Set the Boy Free

by Johnny Marr

The long-awaited memoir from the legendary guitarist and cofounder of the seminal British band The Smiths. An artist who helped define a period in popular culture, Johnny Marr tells his story in a memoir as vivid and arresting as his music. The Smiths, the band with the signature sound he cofounded, remains one of the most beloved bands ever, and have a profound influence on a number of acts that followed—from the Stone Roses, Suede, Blur, and Radiohead to Oasis, The Libertines, and Arctic Monkeys. Marr recalls his childhood growing up in the northern working-class city of Manchester, in a house filled with music. He takes us back to the summer of 1982 when, at eighteen, he sought out one Stephen Morrissey to form a new band they called The Smiths. Marr invites fans on stage, on the road, and in the studio for the five years The Smiths were together and how after a rapid ascent, the working-class teenage rock star enjoyed and battled with the perks of success until ideological differences, combined with his much publicized strained relationships with fellow band mates, caused him to leave in 1987. Marr’s “escape” as he calls it, ensured the beginning of the end for one of the most influential groups of a generation. But The Smiths’ end was only the beginning for Marr. The bona-fide guitar hero continues to experiment and evolve in his solo career to this day, playing with Paul McCartney, Pretenders, Modest Mouse, Oasis and collaborating today’s most creative and renowned artists.  Rising above and beyond the personal struggles and bitter feuds, Marr delivers the story of his music and his band, sharing the real insights of a man who has made music his life, and finally giving fans what they’ve truly been waiting for.  

Genres: Music, Nonfiction, Biography, Memoir, Autobiography, Audiobook, Biography Memoir

480 pages, Hardcover

First published November 3, 2016

About the author

Johnny Marr (born John Martin Maher on 31 October 1963 in Ardwick, Manchester) is an English guitarist, keyboardist, harmonica player, and singer. Marr rose to fame in the 1980s as the guitarist in The Smiths, where he formed an influential songwriting partnership with Morrissey. He currently lives in Portland, Oregon, and has been a member of Modest Mouse since 2006. In 2008, he joined The Cribs after touring with them on 2008's NME Awards Tour. Marr is widely regarded as being amongst the most skilled and influential rock guitarists of the 1980s.

Reviews

[Kerry Dunn · Rating 5 out of 5]

Well, let's just say Johnny Marr is very diplomatic. I feel like he could have shown way more anger than he did in this. Some things I learned from Johnny:

1. Sometimes you meet your one true love as a teenager and it works out for life.
2. The Smiths really just needed a good manager.
3. Liam Gallagher only became famous because he had a cool haircut.
4. Sometimes the personal is political.
5. Music gives life meaning.
6. Drugs are bad.
7. Running is good.

I created a Spotify playlist as I read this book. Any song Johnny mentions got added. You can find it here:
https://open.spotify.com/user/1213327...

EDIT TO ADD: I no longer use Spotify so I’ve duplicated this playlist on Apple Music:
https://music.apple.com/us/playlist/s...

[Michael Legge · Rating 4 out of 5]

Shame he dies in the end.

[Lawrence · Rating 3 out of 5]

Johnny Marr's Set the Boy Free is a nice counterpoint to Morrissey's excellent, dense Autobiography. Marr's narrative takes the form of a young, gregarious chancer who, at a very young age, decided that being a rock and roll star was his life's ambition. Marr is obsessed with the idea of being "cool" - he seemingly remembers every item of clothing he was wearing at each significant point in his life, and relishes the stories of hanging out with the rock establishment. We get meetings with Keef, meetings with Macca, meetings with various other members of rock aristocracy. All we really hear about playing with Talking Heads is that they are "cool", actually, everyone is "cool" in this book, unless they're not a musician, in which case they're painted as kinda square. That sounds like a criticism of the book, but really, it isn't. Marr is an endearingly wide-eyed music fan who has been a rock star from his late teens, and has lived in a bubble of guitars for his whole life ... the story of meeting Morrissey (which tally up with everyone else's version) really is incredible. An afternoon door-knock, and at the first writing session they've banged out The Hand that Rocks the Cradle and Suffer Little Children.

Set the Boy Free probably could have done with an edit, especially in the last, post-Smiths half, where each chapter is essentially a few pages beginning with "... and then I .... The lack of ghostwriter gives the book a nice sense of personal voice though, and everything flies by breezily, sometimes annoyingly so, and you're wanting to know a little bit more about those numerous collaborations. (Personal bugbear ... no mention of producing Marion's excellent The Program.) Definitely recommended for fans of The Smiths, or Manchester musical generally.

[Ben Winch · Rating 4 out of 5]

Johnny Marr, man – I had no idea he was such a dynamo! He’s like the Michael J. Fox of UK indie. I mean, don’t get me wrong: well do I realise I’ve just uttered a sacrilege, and though I dug the Smiths in my high school years I’d be the first to admit I’ve grown out of them, but I’ve always had time for Johnny Marr. Probably more than anyone (except maybe his own hero Keith Richards), Marr changed the notion of what it meant to be a “guitar hero”; while never bludgeoning us with technical wizardry, volume, effects or gimmickry, he quietly insinuated his broad, tasteful pallet into rock music. Of course, once I’d digested and re-digested Morrissey’s punchlines until they punched no more, I realised maybe Marr was a little too quiet. (I’m hard-pressed to think of another guitarist of his stature whose best performances are so buried in the mix beneath a vocalist.) And when as a boy I watched Nick Kent proclaim on some documentary: “Johnny is a sharp – an incredibly sharp – ‘kid’, as he’d probably like to be called,” I just had to take his word for it (a tough call, given the shabby figure Kent cut by the mid-eighties), because Johnny, in terms of public image, let Morrissey call the shots. And again, I’m hard-pressed to think of any band in which such an apparently introverted frontman takes centre-stage while an apparently extroverted “sharp kid” like Marr lurks in the shadows. Because Johnny, if this testimony (and further testimony in John Robb’s The North Will Rise Again) is anything to go by, was a firebrand, a face on the scene, a young dude, long before he knocked on that door in suburban Stretford and confronted Morrissey’s life-sized cardboard James Dean crucifix. And given his impressive run of collaborations since the Smiths split, he didn’t stop spreading the love. Friendships with Billy Duffy (the Cult) and Matt Johnson (The The) preceded and outlasted the Smiths; at one point he moved to Portland to join Modest Mouse; he’s toured with the Pretenders and jammed with Keith Richards, Paul McCartney and Bert Jansch; he played a pivotal role in discovering Oasis (gift to or crime against humanity, as you like, but comprising great acts of kindness to the young Noel Gallagher however you spin it).

A working class boy from Wythenshawe (the largest council estate in Europe, they say) with an apparently fearless enthusiasm for bucking trends, at 15 Marr was dressing like Johnny Thunders, idolising local punk hero Wayne Barrett (of Slaughter and the Dogs), befriending local very “out” gay mentors and staying true to his vision despite standing Michael J. Fox height and being forced to wear kids’-size jeans in a neighbourhood where brickings in the head from so-called friends were not uncommon. By 20, he was managing his own clothes shop and minding a whole record-store’s worth of vinyl in his attic bedsit when the store’s owner went on holiday, not to mention befriending Tony Wilson and DJing at the Hacienda. As to the Smiths, within four gigs they’d recorded (at Strawberry Studios, with £225 loaned them by their manager) “Hand in Glove”, and the next week Johnny (with longtime friend and Smiths bassist Andy Rourke) was lurking in the hallways – and posing as an employee in the warehouse – of Rough Trade, where he accosted Geoff Travis and told him, “You’ve never heard anything like this before!” A month later the single was out. Hopped up on lemonade-and-chocolate breakfasts, he’d been hammering the Smiths via their first ill-recorded and morbid-sounding demo (“Suffer Little Children” and “The Hand that Rocks the Cradle”) several times a day in the shop, despite that he knew he was scaring customers away. He had belief, this kid. Determination. And musically, he was always open to experimenting, to taking influences out of their contexts. (That he named his son Nile attests to a far-from-obvious influence that can nevertheless be felt throughout his work.) Also, if he’s to be believed, Johnny was/is a one-woman man (he’s still married to his high school sweetheart) who apparently never considered getting sucked into the “rock ’n’ roll lifestyle” of groupies and sexual ego-stroking, and as a result was able to articulate, simply by example, something positive and liberating about male sexuality. And, despite being heterosexual, he’s never shown fear of being associated with more marginalised sexualities; in fact he’s relished it.

On one level, sure, like Keith Richards’s, Johnny Marr’s story is about being “in the right place at the right time”, but that may be precisely what lifts it to the realm of legend, what makes of it something unique and unrepeatable. Marr, as he’d be the first to admit, was simply a guy who loved music, who loved to dress sharp, who saw in suburban Wythenshawe opportunity rather than a maze of dead-ends. (At one point mentor-manager Joe Moss tells him not to believe the myth of Manchester as a dark place; that his own Manchester had, in the fifties and sixties, bloomed with colour, and that Johnny’s Manchester of the eighties could do the same. “This city belongs to you,” he says, and it’s this pride in his beginnings and his place in something bigger that, again, marks Johnny out.) And it’s not like this book has changed my view of his work. I’ll still always wish the guitars were louder in “William, it was Really Nothing”, and that Marr had followed further the Gun-Club influence that lead to “How Soon is Now”, and hell, that he’d played out more on The The’s Dusk. Hell, maybe I’ll never listen to any of that stuff again. But I’ll know Johnny Marr is a legend and a revolutionary spirit, and a bighearted dynamo who painted Wythenshawe estates all the colours of the rainbow against the odds. Nice one, Johnny. And thanks a bunch.

[Shirley Bateman · Rating 5 out of 5]

There were times when I was reading 'Set the boy free' that I thought my heart was going to explode with nostalgia and love. I think that I'd forgotten just how much The Smiths meant to me.

I particularly loved Marr's account of going to Morrissey's house for the first time, knocking on his door and asking him to be in his band. The descriptions of Morrissey and Marr writing songs together were truly magical. Marr's writing style is plain and unadorned but it doesn't matter because he has such amazing stories to tell.

I'm probably giving this 5 stars more because of my admiration of Johnny Marr's work than the book itself. But I found 'Set the boy free' so throughly enjoyable, I couldn't give it anything less ❤️.

[Sandy Nawrot · Rating 5 out of 5]

Well, I think I've said this before but I'll say it again. Biographies (or autobiographies in this case) are starting to be my very best brain candy. And it can be about anybody with a story to tell. I consistently rate this genre five stars. People fascinate me.

So Johnny Marr. If you aren't aware of who he is (and in my circles I'm thinking that is going to be a high number) he's the lead guitar player and co-originator of the 80's British New Wave group The Smiths. Their lead vocalist Morrissey gets most of the attention for his "personality" and beautiful crooning, warbling voice (and BTW HIS autobiography was a five-star amazing for me as well) but I have always seen Marr as the equal genius in the equation. He plays the guitar like no other, and once The Smiths broke up and went their separate ways, Morrissey's music lost a vital piece of magic.

Sadly I knew very little about the guy, but that has now changed. Consider my mind blown. Marr is the antithesis to Morrissey. Where Morrissey is dramatic and emotional and writes like 19th century classic literature, Marr is humble, laid-back, simple and straight-forward. ***HE NARRATES THIS AUDIOBOOK - I cannot say this loud enough - and his personality is on display not only in his words but his voice. It is simply ADORABLE. Wicked Mancunian street dialect. (If you are like my BFF and struggle with accents be warned, but I fell in love with it.)

Most rock stars have led excessive lives that involve too many drugs, women and live with absolutely no moral compass. Granted, Marr has done his time with drugs and alcohol (he drew the line at heroin LOL), but I have full admiration for the man he is. He has always been righteous about his art, his life's work. If it gets in the way of him making his best work, it won't do. He has been with the same woman since he was 15. He has given up alcohol. He runs marathons (and on a stressful week has run several in a five day period). He adores his kids and has a good relationship with them. As bitter and ugly as things got with The Smiths band members in the courts, he never trash-talks anyone in this story of his life. To the reader, anyway, he is a peaceful soul that just wants to make music and is not satisfied with routine.

I've read through the reviews and I've not seen anyone argue Marr's rendition of his life. Is he completely honest? It seems like he is, but who knows. I do get a feeling he might be holding back, but I admire him for not slandering anyone that got in his way. Usually such books are the excuse to let it all rip, all skeletons in the closet exposed to the world. Marr does talk about his realization that alcohol was driving too much of his day and affecting his work, but instead of trying and failing three dozen times to quit, he just does it. No room for that nonsense any more. When The Smiths (ahem primarily Morrissey) planted their flag on the hill of veganism, Marr said OK I'll go along in solidarity, and never looked back. Discipline baby. But this book is not a tawdry tell-all. It is a peek into the fascinating life of a legend and musical genius that left me awestruck.

[M Tremmel · Rating 5 out of 5]

I thoroughly enjoyed this book. Johnny Marr is exactly who I thought he was; a genius guitar player and true blue music fan himself. He distills his life story into practical recitations that are informative and enjoyable. He does not apologize for any drug use nor celebrate it like so many other musicians in their autobios. Instead, he gives a real experienced summation: "I learned a lot about the effects of cocaine which makes you think you're really having fun while it sucks all of the love out of the room. It's a great drug for wasting lots of time, words and money."

But by far the best part was hearing how he developed his songwriting craft, how he put together bands and chose songs and players stylistically and by their look and feel. He was going for an aesthetic. It was the whole package and the attention to detail that captures the reader's imagination.

I have not read Morrissey's bio having followed him enough in the press and his ridiculous protestations since my youth. I have heard many pan it due to his bitterness and egotism even if his gift of prose and witticisms are arguably second to none. However, I do not want to sift through the pettiness to find them. Now I know I do not have to.

Johnny's book was joyful, balanced and full of ideas. It also set me on an adventure to seek out is lesser known post-smiths work.

[Mark · Rating 4 out of 5]

Not bad for a kid with a guitar

This edition includes the full text of Marr's initial lecture at the University of Salford, which is a brilliant expositive critique of the music industry by a self-made and largely self-produced and published independent career musician.

Searching the interwebs for references to the lecture, I found critical, angry, cynical pro-industry responses with a very few direct quotes from the lecture (and a few lazy or malicious mis-quotes), along with a few cheers from small press and independent blog posts. But I could not find the text or even lengthy quotes of the lecture itself anywhere online, which is odd for something that clearly made a splash when it was first delivered, well into the internet age.

It's not a great piece of writing or oration per se. It's full of platitudes, the usual mixed metaphor, and other issues common in informal speech but it speaks truth to power, which is enough. As a public service, I will transcribe the entire lecture here for the digital record:

Always from the outside: Mavericks, Innovators and Building Your Own Ark
I'm not a cynic--absolutely not. I don't hate the music business. I am very privileged to have been a working musician for twenty-odd years. I'm still a working musician now and hopefully will be for a while, so I'm happy to work and be involved with British culture.

But the British music industry has never, ever, created anything, ever, in its history. It has never innovated anything. It's done plenty of good things--it's brought great innovators to light and helped to make great records and events--but nothing of any value was ever created inside the British or American music business. It always came from the outside--from outsiders created in the real world. These people, out of necessity, rejection, frustration and talent, and with vision, built their own ark and sailed it alongside and ahead of the music industry. In doing so they created their own market. They did their own research and development. They did it, and still do it, in small clubs, playing in front of a few people, supporting other bands, going up and down the country in little vans. They do it in home-made studios. They do it on SoundCloud and on Facebook. They don't do it on The X Factor.

They were always people from the outside. Take Les Paul and his innovations in recording and for the electric guitar--he was rejected as a crank. The Beatles are the most obvious example--rejected by Decca for their four-piece guitar line-up. No one invented Bob Marley, no one invented the Sex Pistols or Kurt Cobain or Jay Z--they all invented themselves and were rejected. They were outsiders and they were necessary.

The first outsider object I ever saw was a record by Buzzcocks called 'Spiral Scratch'. This really was outsider art. I would have been thirteen or fourteen, and I remember that even just the look of it was astounding. Forty-odd years later, there isn't anything like it, which is absurd. If you look at the cover, it's a Xerox Polaroid of four freezing-cold, skinny boys from Manchester, taken in Piccadilly Gardens. This was at a time when rock stars and musicians--everybody inside the industry--was made to look like gods and everything was very reverential. The record itself is quite astonishing: stripped-down, no-nonsense, unadorned, direct. It was totally outside of everything that was going on at the time. The sound was one of the very first productions by a soon-to-be-legendary Manchester outsider, Martin Hannett.

The Manchester punk rockers were the first outsiders I connected with. The idea we have now of punks is quite cartoony, quite cuddly--the mohican, the bondage trousers and the safety pin. That came a little later--the people I was confronted with were super-hip Manchester lads. These guys were so switched on; they didn't bother reading the weekly music press, because that was a middle-class conceit. They were working-class, edgy provocateurs. Like the 'Spiral Scratch' record, they were fast and they were unadorned. These guys were from the street, and whenever I saw them they were stood outside. They were outside Virgin Records on Market Street every Saturday. I don't think they wanted to go in. The next time I saw them was at the Wythenshawe Forum when I went to see Slaughter and the Dogs. I saw them outside there as well. The next time I remember I was hanging around outside a T-Rex concert. I wanted to be inside, but I managed to do that without a ticket, by hanging out with these blokes. They were older than me, but they made an impression on me that never went away.

Over the years, I started to notice this idea of the music industry having an 'inside', a perception of the music business as being a place, or a group of physical spaces. People who want to get into it, or think that they need to get into it, think it's a place. A world that is entirely floored with shag-pile carpeting, soft lights, big silent cars, stylists everywhere every day, and lots and lots of money, of course, that goes straight in your pocket, and everything's fabulous. But what I'm describing is Simon Cowell's house--and I'm not even sure that exists. That's what people think, it's a mystical place, where you're happy. But it's a world that lasts twelve weeks and stops on Christmas Eve. There's no doorway to the music industry. There's the idea that there's a doorway, and there's a classic idea for aspiring musicians and wannabe stars of how you get in there. One way is to have a connection with a man on the inside, a Svengali. This guy is approachable because he's got one foot in the world you live in and one foot inside the door, beyond which there's a big white light. The truth of the matter is that any innovative and incredible manager who's really made a difference had never actually done it before. They were all doing it for the first time. Malcolm McLaren, Joe Moss, who managed the Smiths, and Brian Epstein--they all ran shops. As did, I think, Paul McGuiness, U2's manager.

These are all people who changed the music business. Without them you wouldn't have heard of their bands. Most notably, Rob Gretton, manager of New Order and Joy Division, was a DJ and had never managed a band before. So this idea of the Svengali popping his head out of the music-business doorway, discovering people and making them stars and creating the Sex Pistols, The Rolling Stones or the Beatles, is erroneous. Do you think Brian Epstein created John Lennon? But without these people, who were outsiders easily as much as the musicians themselves, it wouldn't happen. They had their own vision and an agenda. They were able to see something in the band and outside of them that was worthwhile, something that the bands didn't always see themselves.

Andrew Oldham was a formidable character who managed The Rolling Stones early on. As a teen whizz kid who worked for Mary Quant, he was younger than the band, but he took this bunch of very earnest blues aficionados and created the anti-Beatles. The Rolling Stone weren't really that good at the start. I'm sure it never would have occurred to them that they could still be the anti-Beatles, as big as they are now, fifty years later. But that was down to the manager and his own agenda and vision. Epstein obviously was an outsider because of this personal life, but he too had his own unique and specific talent and agenda; he had theatrical aspirations and a flair for presentation. Sadly, his outsider status was such that, regardless of his riches and success, it probably spelled his ultimate demise.

Like a lot of people, Joy Division were inspired to take up their guitars by the Sex Pistols. Salford sons, they were pretty ordinary at first and hadn't found their sound. They're an interesting example because early on, they got an opportunity from an insider, from the establishment. They were given some money to make a record with RCA before they were ready. It was never going to work and it never does work. The Smiths had a similar scenario when we received £250 from EMI to make a demo. You need money, you need a break, and you want to get on the inside. But if you're going to subvert and do something that's truly great, it doesn't happen from the inside.

RCA gave Joy Division the money to make a record and it sucked. All the pieces had to be in place; what they did have, which the other bands around didn't, was the ultimate Manchester outsider-manager in Rob Gretton. Taking his own very sharp outsider aesthetic, aspirations and sense of cool, he identified the band's alienated outsider aspect and became the fifth member. Many years later, after the international success of New Order, he retained his attitude and remained an outsider until the day he died. If you don't just do it with the money in mind then you can stay on the outside and concentrate on being great, and being great is what it's all about. As soon as the money becomes a controlling factor, you're compromised.

One of the things I've learned about movements and the arts is that in the beginning, it's almost as important to define yourself by what you're against as by what you're for. If you can say what you're against, as Factory Records did, what you're left with is what you're for. Tony Wilson was against quite a few things, but as everyone from the north knows, the main thing he was against was London. He practically led a thirty-year movement against the perceived cultural superiority of London over Manchester. A fantastic outsider. He totally championed the outside--not slick, naff music that was going to make him a lot of money really quickly--and it worked.

The outsider label is not just a postmodern concept. Outsiderism (yes, that is a word!) is now a profitable and massive exploitable commodity, and a valid commercial position. Just look at Tamla Motown records--a corporate brand and a household name. And it was started by one lone songwriter and made in the garage of a house in a Detroit suburb. Why not? These people have to come from somewhere. More recently Def Jam Recordings was started in a dorm at New York University in 1984 by Russell Simmons and Rick Rubin. It's now worth hundreds of millions of dollars. But if you're doing it to make hundreds of millions of dollars, it won't happen. A lot of people outside of the music business, who aren't musicians, think you do it for the money. No one I have mentioned so far--and lots of other people I could mention--does it for the money. That just happens. If the people I've mentioned did it for the money, they would be disempowered, impaired, because they wouldn't have had the audacity to go out and make wacky and reckless moves, moves that work. If you do it for the money you're screwed, and it won't happen.

As well as creating The Rolling Stones, Andrew Oldham started a label, Immediate Records. He did it as an anti-establishment move, showing them how it could be done with style, guile and success. Kit Lambert and Chris Stamp, who managed The Who, also outsiders, did the same thing with Track Records. Lambert is another one of those managers who had never done it before. Older outsiders can help bands because they've got the wisdom and the capability to work from an outside position--even if it is just because they have a couple of credit cards. It makes a difference. So Oldham inspired me as much as any musician when I was getting The Smiths together. I learned from reading about him and from his interviews that no one was going to discover me. Once again, it's forgetting the idea of making it from the inside, learning to build your own ark and concentrating on being great. No one discovered Bob Marley. Sure, he signed to Chris Blackwell's Island. But Blackwell was an outside label boss. He started a little label selling Jamaican records in the UK. He might have brought Marley to the world but Marley wasn't invented, nor was Kurt Cobain, who was on Sub Pop records, also an outsider record label. The Beatles may have ended up on EMI but the reason they got on EMI was because their talent was spotted by producer George Martin, who within EMI, was considered something of a crackpot.

With The Smiths, a mate of mine got a temporary job at EMI and convinced his bosses that we were worth spending a little bit of money on. We got the money to go into the studio but we knew it wasn't going to work, that the place wasn't for us, and they rejected us. We needed to stay on the outside and to be on an outsider label. I knew we needed to be on Rough Trade Records. I was very specific about that. Rough Trade started off as a shop, run by Geoff Travis and set up to sell records that were outside of the mainstream. Rough Trade was even outside of the underground--that's how outside it was. Thanks to Rough Trade we came to the attention of John Peel. If you consider the history of broadcasting in this country, you quickly realise that the most innovative and significant person was Peel, the ultimate outsider-broadcaster. It is remarkable that he was able to operate in the way he did, championing outsiders and being an outsider for forty years at the BBC, an environment that, apart from Parliament and Buckingham Palace, is probably the most insider establishment this country has. He played some really weird, cutting-edge music that absolutely didn't want to be on the inside.

After all of these names, I'd like to mention just one song. The song is by Lou Reed. Obviously, he was always going to be legend because of his work with The Velvet Underground. But the reason Reed is a household name is because of one song: 'Walk on the Wild Side'. It's incredible: a staple, classic song which is actually a roll-call of outsiders--Candy Darling, Joe Dalessandro et al--and the world it describes and celebrates is exclusively a world of wilful, social-misfit outsiders: transvestites, transexuals, druggies, subversives. Reed got his start through another great outsider-manager--in fact, probably the biggest outsider of the day--when he hooked up with Andy Warhol. Warhol had no idea how to manage a band. He hadn't managed a band before and didn't manage a band afterwards. His MO was to make art that was derived from outside of the existing art world, which took some doing in the 1960s. (Now, we're used to it.) He had learnt as a youth from the inside, in his training in fine arts, but he couldn't ultimately change what he was--a born outsider. Everyone in Warhol's created universe was an outsider. Did any of these people, The Velvets or the others in that song, care about anyone from inside the film industry? Did they see themselves in conventional movies? No. Did anyone in the industry care about them? No. But that doesn't matter. They did it for the fun and devilment and the art of it, crossed their fingers and hoped they'd make some money. They didn't. But they also hoped they would make a difference. Which they absolutely did.

So what do these people do if it feels like they're not going to make a difference? They do it for other outsiders. Which really means, initially anyway, doing it for your friends. Jay Z says that he made his first album entirely to impress his friends. I understand that completely. When The Smiths had their first success, we found it necessary to go to London. I got no end of stick from Tony Wilson for it. We wrote some good songs in London but I knew that I had to get back the north. That was where music was going to come from, and I was missing my friends, the terra firma.

The first rule of thumb for any musician is: if your friends like it, then you're on the right track. The second rule of thumb is: you'd better make sure that your friends have got plenty good sense, or else you're scuppered. And I suppose the third rule of thumb is to make sure that none of your friends work for insider record companies. I know you can be a maverick within the music industry, but all the greats did it from the outside. And that's an inspiring thing. We live in an age of such conformity and stifling conservatism. The idea of the outsider should be identified and celebrated, cherished and encouraged. I personally would like to see more people in the music culture like those I have described.

To finish, the title 'Walk on the Wild Side' came from the 1956 novel by Nelson Algren A Walk on the Wild Side. Algren said of his book, 'It asks why lost people develop into greater human beings than those who have never been lost in their whole lives'. That song explains it all, that title explains it all--it could have been called 'Walk on the Outside'.

[Gregarious cline · Rating 5 out of 5]

Johnny Marr is the man of my dreams. He encapsulates and manifests one my deepest beliefs that visualization, working hard and dedication is "the magic" in reaching your goals (and beyond in his case).
Without a doubt Marr is one of Rock's innovative guitar legends and it's magnificent to read how he set out to be exactly that, and he does it with soul and depth. His insights and memories into crafting the Smiths to reflect his original style are a must read for any musician or lover of music. Even though I was peripherally aware of some of his post-Smiths projects, I expected the narrative to lose a few decibels of interest after they broke up, but was blown away at his resolve to keep on his original path of making meaningful music. Not just for a living, but for a loving.
Marr is an inspirational human who earned his right to take his place in the human race (I had to do one lyric reference)!

[Katey Lovell · Rating 5 out of 5]

I love Johnny Marr.

His life story proves that the heady combination of hard work and natural talent pays off. Set the Boy Free follows Johnny from humble beginnings on inner-city Manchester estates to global fame and acclaim. It's partly a 'rise of the underdog' tale, but it's also a love story between Marr and music. As a creative person myself, I couldn't help but be inspired by his drive, his ambition, his self-belief, and also his ability to do things his own way.

I love Johnny Marr.

His total commitment to guitar and continual desire to bettering his playing, writing and producing is obvious through his musical catalogue, and although I'm a huge fan of The Smiths, there is so much more to Johnny Marr's career. I read a review that complained there was too much music lingo in this book. Erm ... hello? This is Johnny Fuckin Marr, a man who's dedicated his whole life to music. What did you expect?!

I love Johnny Marr.

His style and the influences he has drawn on in terms of clothes and image fascinate me. From roll-necks and beaded necklaces to well-chosen knitwear, his style has evolved yet never deviated from something that is totally 'Johnny Marr'. There's something comforting in that. Familiar. And the way Johnny talks about clothes and style in the book is highly evocative.

I love Johnny Marr.

He comes across as very introspective and self-aware, constantly reassessing what he wants from not only his career, but also other areas of his life. Reading Set the Boy Free, particularly the sections about Johnny's lifestyle change to a tee-total, marathon-running vegan, has encouraged me to think about the life I want for myself.

I love Johnny Marr.

I've always been fascinated by his relationship with wife Angie. They are a rarity - a couple who met young, knew they wanted to be together and still are over thirty years on. I loved the chance to learn more about their relationship, although the romantic in me would have liked to have more of this and also his relationship with Nile and Sonny covered in the book.

I love Johnny Marr.

I love Johnny Marr's autobiography. It's insightful and easy to read and although I'd heard a lot of the stories before, it was nice to have a chronological version of events from Johnny's viewpoint.

I love Johnny Marr.

I love Johnny Marr.

And did I mention I love Johnny Marr?!

[Kristen · Rating 4 out of 5]

When I first started reading Johnny Marr's autobiography, I wasn't sure it was going to be that compelling. Especially early on, it reads a bit like "Here's the story of how everything went right for me." Part of that is definitely good luck. But the other part is that Marr seems to be a relentlessly optimistic go-getter who is determined to make the best of every situation.

Marr never wanted to do anything other than play guitar, and he devotes most of his waking life to it from a young age. He's so good that by the time he's 16, local adults are asking him to play in their bands. But he wants to do his own thing, so he seeks out Morrissey and forms The Smiths. It's mind-blowing to realize that Marr started the band when he was 18, they released their first single a year later, and by the time they had imploded and called it quits, Marr was only 23. His attitude toward The Smiths' demise is a good example of his resilience. He obviously feels a lot of sadness about the loss of the band and his friendship with Morrissey, but he picks up the pieces, does about a million other things, and never seems to fall victim to self-pity.

Marr wrote this book himself without a ghostwriter, and the style is straightforward and companionable. He's got lots of good stories about the people he's worked with, many of whom are among my favorites. (Kirsty MacColl and Noel Gallagher to name a couple.) Another amazing thing about Marr is that he met his wife Angie when they were 15, and they're still together and happy. He comes across as someone who is very driven, but appreciates the experiences of his career and not just the end products. If it feels like everything went right for him, it's because he's alright with the way things went.

[GloriaGloom · Rating 2 out of 5]

Mi chiedo perché i giovinetti del capitalismo avanzato abbiano ciclicamente bisogno di istituzionalizzare la naturale confusione sessuale dell'adolescenza per tramite di idoletti pop di vario peso, da Bowie ai The Smiths per arrivare ad...Achille Lauro. Domande oziose di chi, per un misterioso moto dell'anima (MMA), ha gettato ore afose su questa autobiografia dello Smiths numero due. Indi, come direbbero Morrissey e Salvini, bacetti. (Lo vedrei bene Salvini come frontman degli Smiths in una eventuale reunion, con una bella spilletta "For Britain" appuntata sulla t-shirt. Ovviamente scherzo, so bene che Morrissey non un razzista pro Brexit come hanno strillato i giornali, ma in fondo non lo è neppure Salvini, in tutti e due i casi trattasi solo di pop).

[Stephen · Rating 4 out of 5]

enjoyed this autobiography of the guitarist of the smiths and a look at his life and his musical journey from inner city Manchester to fame

[Eva · Rating 4 out of 5]

ג׳וני מאר הוא אחד המוזיקאים הכי אהובים עלי אי פעם, בעיקר בגלל היצירות שלו עם הסמית׳ס. אז אני מאוד מאוד התרגשתי לקרוא את הספר הזה ולראות את ה״מאחורי הקלעים״ של כל מה שקרה.
בספר הזה מאר מספר על החוויות שלו בתעשיית המוזיקה משנות השמונים ועד היום, מהקמת להקת הסמית׳ס- לפרידה שלהם וכל שאר הפרוייקטים המוזיקליים שהשתתף בהם.
ג׳וני מאר הוא באמת גאון מוזיקלי עם סגנון וכישרון שכמעט ואין יותר בימינו וזה נהדר לראות את הדרך שבה הוא השפיע על תעשיית המוזיקה בחמישים שנים האחרונות.
סך הכל ספר מאוד מעניין והיה לי ממש ממש כיף לקרוא אותו♥️

[Marcus · Rating 4 out of 5]

I am primarily a Morrissey fan but have seen Marr in concert twice and he was an audaciously talented youngster during his time in The Smiths. Obviously there is no love lost between the two these days but I did enjoy this one.

He is a likeable narrator as he breaks down the labours of love he has enjoyed in various bands such as Talking Heads, The Cribs, The The, Electronic etc. He has also had the chance to jam with his heroes such as Keith Richards and Paul McCartney, mentor Oasis and even score soundtracks to movies such as Inception, No Time To Die and Amazing Spiderman 2.

This all said he did seem to drive without a licence or insurance a lot and his drink fuelled car crash could well have had implications similar to those that took his other treasured collaborator Kirsty MacColl.

[Hector Ramirez · Rating 2 out of 5]

Set the Boy free.

What a let down had been waiting years for J Marr to write a book. Particularly after Mozza's was so bad :(
The first ten chapters basically expound his love for clothes etc (He likes clothes also worked in a clothes shop he was good at selling clothes etc etc) Had alot of cousins names them all!
Some interesting Smiths stories regarding Andy Rourke and a few about Moz. But no real insight into the creative process imo.....
Marr then spouts about his views on politics and social issues ugh its tiresome same old leftist spiel Neil Kinnocks book a big influence on Marr wowza.
Towards final few chapters he explains how great his signature Fender Jag is, riveting stuff altogether. Oh and he runs alot one time he ran five marathons in seven days!

Yes Johnny Marr is a Genius on guitar no doubt but man what a disappointing book.

[AL · Rating 3 out of 5]

If you’re a fan of his guitar work in The Smiths and beyond, then this is a fine read for some Smiths stories, but it gets a bit dull once he avoids talking about his Madchester debauchery (foggy memories indeed) and he starts his distance running (save that for a different self-help book and dish the dirt).

[Leonardo · Rating 5 out of 5]

A clear-minded and level-headed autobiography, Set The Boy Free is a joyful and sincere account of Johnny Marr's musical and personal journey (which, in his case, are one and the same). Marr is deeply thankful for the gift of music (for himself and his audience) and that gratitude is translated into his words and his memories, from his childhood (and his early falling in love with music and guitars) to his many musical adventures (from the Smiths to The The, Electronica, Modest Mouse and his own solo and semi-solo projects). He comes through not as a petulant rock god intent on self-mythologizing, but as an Everyman who is grateful for the gift of making and sharing music (whether he is recounting the first time he listed to a life-changing record, a recording session or a live concert).

A remarkable aspect of the book --compared with other fellow Mancunnians who have released their autobiographies in recent years-- is that his native city does not feel like an archetypical abyss of utter boredom and post-modern abjection. Certainly, Marr's Manchester seems less dreary than Morrissey's, Bernard Summers', or Peter Hook's... although it does provide a young rebellious spirit enough inspiration to make music, but it feels more like home than a prison.

Of course, Marr deals with the infamous Smiths trial and his sporadic encounters with Morrisey over the years, but he manages do it without a hint of resentment or nostalgia. Even his personal path towards fitness and veganism doesn't feel preachy at all. All and all, this is one of the most charming and endearing autobiographies by a rock musician.

[?0?0?0 · Rating 3 out of 5]

This gets a 3.5.

I imagine if you love Johnny Marr's work outside The Smiths more than I do, this book would be getting closer to a 4 or 5 star rating. Marr just isn't my favourite musician. However, this is a good book, that goes from when he was a kid and moving around England and getting into music and wanting to form a band whilst working at clothing shops all the way to modern day where he's made a nice guitar. Obviously much happened in-between and most of it is pretty interesting, but why this is enjoyable where other books of its ilk are not, is that Marr isn't ... Morrissey (who does sound like he used to be like a pretty good person back in the day) and he writes with a youthful passion for what he loves: pop music. When he writes about jamming with his heroes, he sounds as excited as anyone else would be. When he talks about writing music, he's detailed and that's where the book soars for me. Where it sags a bit is the first third where he spends perhaps too much time setting up his entrance into the rock world, for at this point most rock star stories are the same, he's just lucky he seems like a good guy. This book also includes an article he wrote for the Guardian about playing guitar and a lecture he gave that's about why the idea you need to be an insider or know someone on the inside of the music industry to get in is, basically, nonsense. If you adore the Smiths and Marr and I honestly can't think of a single way "Set the Boy Free" will disappoint you.

[Emily · Rating 5 out of 5]

I became a fan of The Smiths a few years back and from the moment I put on "Ask" , I was immediately enthralled with the guitar playing of Johnny Marr. To this day, Johnny is not only my favorite Smiths member, but one of my most favorite musicians. Reading his autobiography confirmed this fact even more! Marr is a hell of a musician and a stand up guy! Despite being easily one of the most iconic guitar players of the century, Marr is humble and never takes himself too seriously! His book has plenty of that classic Mancunian humor, which had me laughing and snorting and burying my face in my pillow so as not to wake up my roommates at 2 in the morning :P There were also many touching and emotional moments throughout the book, when Marr spoke of his love for his family, and for his road family: the bands he'd toured with throughout the years and his first manager, Joe Moss. I was curious to see after having read Morrissey's autobiography a couple years back what Marr's side of the story was regarding the band's breakup and the legal drama that unfolded with band members Mike Joyce and Andy Rourke years later. I was not disappointed, and hearing it was a further testament to his character! Overall, the book was a refreshing and engaging read!! Highly recommended not just for Smiths fans, but for fans of the 80s alternative music scene!

[Josette · Rating 4 out of 5]

What a fantastic, easy and enjoyable read. I couldn't put the book down and - as a mom of two busy little ones in which it takes me forever to read a book nowadays - I kept trying to squeeze in pages and chapters during any fleeting moment I could (parked car/sleeping kids, bathroom escapes, late night bed reading). I've always been a fan of The Smiths, but wasn't too familiar with and well versed in the specific band members' backgrounds. It wasn't until I recently heard a Sirius radio interview with Johnny Marr - going into past stories and where I heard about his book - that I had to find out more about this incredible, dedicated, fiercely talented-as-hell, innovative, humbly sincere, authentic, visionary guitarist. I had no idea about his vast and ridiculously impressive discography (I knew of all the bands/music, but no idea of his involvement and influence). I was floored. And his storytelling was warm, nostalgic and vivid. Most of all, knowing what his calling was from the start, what he was "meant to do/be" in being heard and to create...quite an inspiring and admirable human being.

[keatssycamore · Rating 2 out of 5]

I don't know why I read rock books when I am not in the least bit musical. Unfortunately, once I got started with the genre, I couldn't seem to stop. This one is probably a 3 or 4 if you loved the smiths or love gear (particularly electric guitars). For me, the thing that came through was Marr being a truly decent person with scruples. Writing an autobiography instead of a memoir is the best example of this I can think of. He'd clearly be uncomfortable gilding lilies or opining expansively on what he imagines to be others' inner emotions/thoughts when he doesn't actually know. He sticks mostly with facts, doesn't give you as much of his inner life as you want, and winds up seeming like the somewhat difficult and elusive friend you have that you always wish you more like. PS, if you are expecting to get the dirt on Morrisey, you won't.

One audiobook note, Marr reads it himself and he's engaging and pleasant but he reads faster than most professionals so, for me, it was impossible to listen at anything other than normal speed.

[Aug Stone · Rating 5 out of 5]

Reading the interviews with Johnny Marr in Guitar Player and Guitar For The Practicing Musician magazines in 1990 when The The's 'Mind Bomb' album came out changed the way I thought about music. 'Set The Boy Free' is a wonderful insight into the man whose creativity did indeed shape much of the great guitar playing since 1983. Johnny Marr had a vision at a young age which he conveys to the reader and shows how by listening to his heart and his guts he made it all happen. There's truly wonderful moments in this book, brimming with emotion - his encounter with a rival fan at a football match, meeting his wife for the first time, him talking about The Smiths legacy... The story is an unconventional one, taking in a variety of players and locations, but all fueled by a love for making the type of music you want to make and leading the life you desire to live.

[Marcello S · Rating 4 out of 5]

Niente male per un ragazzino con la chitarra
Eh.

Vedi alla voce: come aver fatto già tutto a 22 anni e uscirne vivo. E anzi arrivare a 55 in forma smagliante.

Se quando sentite nominare gli Smiths vi si scioglie un poco il cuoricino questo libro è abbastanza imperdibile.
No, abbondo: l’autobiografia di quel mostro sacro di Johnny Marr è imperdibile a priori.

E’ una scrittura appassionata, di quelle che ti assorbono e pare di essere lì a Manchester in quei primi anni Ottanta.
Oltre la musica c’è l’amore per Angie, che si sono conosciuti tipo a 15 anni e non si sono più lasciati. E dalle foto che offre l’internet sono proprio bellissimi. Chapeau, tanto più per una - cosiddetta - rockstar.

Quando fu ora di andare, Morrissey (o Steven come lo chiamavo io) mi diede un paio di fogli di carta con delle parole battute a macchina. “Canzoni”, pensai, “è di questo che si tratta”. Li infilai in una tasca del giubbotto e suggerii che mi chiamasse l’indomani a mezzogiorno al telefono di X-Clothes. Ci salutammo e appena uscii dal cancello al sole pensai: “Se chiama domani questo gruppo si fa”.
Il giorno dopo a mezzogiorno squillò il telefono.

Ecco, io quando leggo ‘ste cose mi prendo bene e mi vengono i brividini. [78/100]

[Adrian Deans · Rating 4 out of 5]

I was a late comer to The Smiths although now they’re one of my favourite bands. Accordingly, I picked up this book with some alacrity and breezed through it in two days.

That tells you a lot about both the quality of the writing and my interest in the journey. I love biographies but too often lose interest once the subject gets famous. Johnny Marr’s book held my attention the whole way, although I did like best the development years and The Smiths years. His description of growing up in Manchester and his fascination with the guitar were really interesting.

There were, however, a number of elephants in the room unexplained by the end of the book. First, he never explains his alienation from his father: one moment he’s growing up in a loving family and admiring his father, and the next moment they never speak!

The biggest elephant of all though is Morrissey. Johnny Marr frequently waxes lyrical when describing both his professional and personal relationships with the co-founder of The Smiths. The word love is used often. But there is not the slightest inkling of anything turning sour until the band abruptly splits in 1987. No proper explanation is ever given - the closest he comes is much later in the book when he concedes The Smiths could not have continued given his and Morrissey’s creative differences.

WTF? When did creative differences come into it? There was zero previous mention of creative differences- only the descriptions of their amazing creative partnership.

I dare say Johnny Marr didn’t want to get into a public stoush with Morrissey (and maybe didn’t want to entirely burn the bridges towards a reunion), but it strikes me as dishonest from a biographer’s perspective.

Finally, and this is a very minor point, Marr frequently talks about the importance of outsider art - it’s only those outside the mainstream who genuinely take the musical art form forward in meaningful ways. If that is so, then why does he work with both of his children? Like it or not Johnny Marr, you’re now on the inside, and by allowing your children to work with you, you’ve effectively denied them their chance at greatness. Having said that, I fully understand that a proud father would find the prospect of working with his kids irresistible.

Ultimately, Set The Boy Free is not one of the best bios I’ve read but it was one of the most enjoyable. Johnny Marr himself comes across as a really lovely bloke who has achieved all his ambitions through hard work and an unswerving dedication to his vision. It could also be recommended to aspiring musos as a text book in what it takes.

A must read for any Smiths fan and anyone else who loves popular music.

[Rick Burin · Rating 3 out of 5]

It’s all guitars, socialism and dangerous driving in this informal, chatty, sometimes shapeless autobiography from the diminutive, jangly, axe-wielding, boundary-pushing, cool-as-fuck former Smith. The one who wrote all the music. The one who didn’t turn out greedy or UKIP. The one who – a mystifying lack of contrition for going drink-driving aside – seems really pretty damn sound. Marr isn’t a particularly strong writer – his spellbinding creative gifts lie elsewhere – but his book is fun, sometimes affecting, impressively straightforward and genuinely insightful. He’s also Johnny Fucking Marr. He wrote ‘Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me’.

Set the Boy Free is at its best in the first half, as Johnny moves from Ardwick to Wythenshawe to fashion to petty crime to The Smiths, and we go with him. A few bits could have been pruned without losing much (there’s a lot about trousers, and I’m not sure we need the names of all his cousins), but it’s a great story told fairly well. After that the book breaks down a little in structure, becoming a set of disconnected anecdotes about subsequent artistic endeavours (Electronic, The Healers and Modest Mouse), encounters with guitar heroes, and the legacy of the Marr-Morrissey partnership that made everything else possible. A few of those stories are vague or self-justifying, but others are good and several great. The passage dealing with the student protests of 2010, and an emblematic picture of protestor Ellen Wood facing down police in front of parliament wearing a Smiths t-shirt, is particularly moving, especially the pay-off.

By the end Marr is a clean, teetotal, vegan marathon runner and just about ready to have an argument with anyone who says that’s not rock and roll. And I’m with him. I don’t need someone to be a misanthropic smack addict, I just want them to write something as beautiful as This Night Has Opened My Eyes. His book can’t compete with such lofty, indelible achievements, but it’s certainly very readable. It also offers a revealing contrast to the autobiography of one Steven Patrick Morrissey, which began rather beautifully – incorporating a lengthy lecture on A. E. Housman – spent longer on the Smiths’ court case than their entire career, and left you with the inescapable impression that its author had become something like a complete and utter prick.

[Al · Rating 4 out of 5]

Though tons of words have been written on the Smiths, this seems essential.

Besides, I am not sure you could consider Morrissey's autobiography non-fiction, so here we are.

This is pretty standard rock autobio. Conversational and breezy. Marr seems "aw shucks" as he recounts his life, marrying his teenage sweetheart and becoming one of the most influential guitarists of his generation.

Nothing wrong with that. His is an interesting story. Although he makes it sound like it was so simple, I gleam that he practiced his keyster off, and this story doesn't happen without Johnny putting in the work.

Pretty simple biography which recounts the England of his youth, getting involved in the local music and fashion scenes, up until he puts together the Smiths.

From there, it's a pretty basic bio which combines some of his inspiration and "behind the music" tales of recording, mixed with what he was feeling at the time. The kind of stuff Smiths fans will pore over.

Observers have noted Marr's weird post-Smiths career, but here, it follows a certain logic. He had known Matt Johnson since his teen years and they always planned to make music together. He plays with friends and heroes (The Kirsty MacColl bits are some of the best- along with him coming up with the name of her "Electric Landlady" album). He pursues a solo career, but finds he likes the feel of a band better, so he hitches up to Modest Mouse and the Cribs. He finally decides to really put his name out there, forming a band with the rhythm section of the band Haven, and playing music that recalls his glory days. Somewhere in there, he's responsible for discovering Oasis, as well.

It's a lengthy book, but it's a simple read. Smiths fans will enjoy it. He's interesting enough, though, if you are a fan of music bios, and have any interest in the band or the ear at all, it might be worth a read. For song-by-song analysis, you can do better, of course, but I would mark it essential for Smiths fans. I will probably thumb through it a few times over the coming years.

[MJPDX · Rating 5 out of 5]

Listened to this one on Audible; Marr is outstanding as a narrator in his Mancunian accent, telling the story of his life. I was never a big fan of the Smiths (yeah, I know...sorry!) but was curious about his career. What I found was a suprisingly candid journey through the life of a songwriter and guitarist, from his upbringing in Manchester, starting on his path playing in local garage bands through the explosion of the Smiths, to stints playing and recording with the the like of Chrissie Hynde, McCartney, Bernard Sumner, the Cribs and Modest Mouse. Recommended for any rock music geek for all the obvious reasons including lots of detail about road life, gear, etc. and well as the way he's crossed paths with so many other brilliant artist along his journey.

[Misha · Rating 4 out of 5]

While Marr is not as strong a writer as Morrissey nor as enigmatic/mysterious, this memoir is more geared to a music scene fan. Marr does not wallow, so when The Smiths cuts Marr from the band over management issues, Marr sets his sights on other opportunities. Making friends and working with musicians he admires--Matt Johnson of The The, Bernard Sumner of New Order, Modest Mouse and others--and improving as a guitar player is more important to Marr than fame, petty disputes and days gone by. An enjoyable memoir even if it lacks the depth of feeling and hyperbole of Morrissey's Autobiography.

[Daniel Sevitt · Rating 4 out of 5]

Perfectly decent autobiography covering all his career highlights, many of which I had forgotten - such as his time with The The or Modest Mouse. Marr was 23 when The Smith broke up which is astonishing. Plenty of namedropping, but he's mostly self-effacing and chuffed to have found himself where he is. Grateful for everything, but proud of the hard work he put in. It's a tough combination to pull off in an memoir, but I think he does it. Solidly entertaining, even if it has none of the flair of his main career.