Bob Daisley, 'For Facts Sake' -- Book Review
This review is brought to us by our friend HIM.
Rock autobiographies are a mixed lot. Many suggest too many ghost-chefs in the writing-kitchen. Others strike false notes in a bid to be consistent. Still others are little more than magazine articles, padded with pictures and spacing-filling large fonts. Even then, most have a few stores worth telling, even if we can’t always guarantee the provenance is pure. It is for those reasons that bassist Bob Daisley’s For Facts Sake is so special. It isn’t padded. It isn’t ghost-written. It is loaded with pictures that complement the story being told. And it is a story that spares no details even as it tries to provide an honest account of a gifted musician and his amazing life.
If only for the music, the story the book tells would be amazing. His early years in bands like Chicken Shack, Kahvas Jute, Mungo Jerry, and Widowmaker. Seeing The Beatles, The Who, and The Rolling Stones in all their primal, early, glory. Being a member of Rainbow and Uriah Heep, no less a band member supporting the likes of Gary Moore and a contributor to the Ray Gillen sessions that became Black Sabbath’s The Eternal Idol. Hanging out backstage with Led Zeppelin. Driving down the Autobahn with Cozy Powell behind the wheel. Hanging out at Dio’s wedding. Having tea with Bon Scott. Let me repeat that: tea with Bon Scott!!
Before returning to the music, I want to argue that the real strength of the book lies elsewhere for me. This is a book that pays tribute to friends, family, and his own fortitude. Daisley lovingly captures moments that are often lost in other works of this sort. The support of his mom. The long path that he took with the love of his life, Vicki. The hard fought, but ultimately successful, battle with mental illness. His interest in spiritualism. His long-time involvement in Buddhist meditation. Granted, these issues and interests worked their way into his music. But there’s more. At points where it would be so easy to gloss over a kind word or a generous act, Daisley makes sure to give credit—and love—where it is due. He also paints a vivid picture of the music scene, connecting places and faces, and showing how so many artists were working towards a dream and helping others do the same. Bands fade in and out of fashion and formation. But the attachments—the friendships—last long after most of the musicians have moved on to other things. Ever here, he doesn’t spare a randy take on a wild night out, a practical joke that went a bit too far, or a moment that captures the mood. Daisley doesn’t work to place himself in the mix. He doesn’t have to. In a career that seems so clearly tied to the connections he forged with others, Daisley acts as a narrator with a fine sense of detail and even finer sense of humility.
I have obviously neglected the paradox of Daisley’s career: arguably the high point, but also the one part that has been most misunderstood. Luckily, Daisley sets the record straight regarding his time in The Blizzard of Ozz (alternately, and hilariously, referred to as the Lizzard of Ozz and the Wizard of Oz in two other instances). We catch rare glimpses of Ozzy’s time with his first wife Thelma and their young family, the burgeoning dalliances with Sharon Arden, and the crippling bouts of doubt that led Ozzy—perhaps—to swap the former for the latter and/or drink himself under numerous tables regardless the time of day (or night). We are treated to the alternative history and meaning of songs like “Suicide Solution,” as well as Ozzy’s—and Daisley is no slouch in the suggestive word and phrase department—ability to utilize magical terms like “bodge” and “flaps.” We get the sense of how Rhoads, a talented player at so young an age, worked to slough off the naiveté of youth . . . all while hunting the countryside for wild “haggis.” We grieve alongside Daisley as he recounts the details of the young guitarist’s death.
By this point, most people who care about Ozzy’s music know that the madman himself—whether sequined and squat or dark and drawn—was the necessary force and face of the band. But Ozzy, solo or as part of Sabbath prior and post, was an instrument for the substantial talents of people like Daisley and Rhoads. Daisley pulls no punches here. At the same time, he displays a remarkable degree of restraint and nuance. His loyalty to the last piece of the Blizzard puzzle, drummer Lee Kerslake, is touching. So, too, is his acknowledgement that Kerslake’s eventual replacement, Tommy Aldridge, was also a stellar player. In a choice between relatively equal drummers, loyalty trumped the machinations of Ozzy and Sharon to close ranks on the rest of the band. All of which makes it even sadder to see how Daisley and others have been treated. In many cases, this was after they showed loyalty and dedication to the Osbournes. In others, it was when they simply did the yeoman’s work necessary to cash a check while bringing a later Ozzy project to completion; work, it should be stressed, that was beyond Ozzy’s capabilities (but more on that a bit later).
Daisley and Kerslake settled a suit with Don Arden out of court in 1986; they lost their suit against Ozzy, Inc., in 2003. However, taking the wider view, I think that they won the qualified argument in both cases. It also helps to contextualize this chapter in his life as against the varied experiences covered in the rest of the book. The truly creative period involving Osbourne, Rhodes, Kerslake, and Daisley—the creation of Blizzard of Ozz (1980), subsequent tour, production of Diary of a Madman (1981), and brusque dismissal—takes up little more than forty pages and two chapters (Nine and Ten, respectively). While it might be the period of time that fans know most—even if many fans need to know more about those and subsequent years—it hardly qualifies as the only significant period in Daisley’s career.
Don’t get me wrong. Those two albums are a significant part of the 80’s history of rock and metal, and arguably the best thing that Ozzy ever did outside of Sabbath. As drummer (and guitarist) Brian Tichy recently stated in an interview with Jeb Wright on Classic Rock Revisited:
“. . . those are classic sounding records. I can go on and on about Kerslake. I love that there are no click tracks on those records. It is floating time, meaning that it is solid and tight. Bob Daisley kept all of the groove between Randy’s guitar and Kerslake drums. I love that it pushes and pulls.”
There are, of course, some quibbles. One wonders why, for instance, the facts in the title don’t possess the sake. There are also many sentences that seem to wander around a bit, with commas separating phrases a bit like lines in lyrical verse. Then there is the cover. My, oh my, the cover. It proudly lists most (but not all) of the important bands to which Daisley has contributed. But it is a garish mess of colors, made all the more obvious given the impressive heft of the tome he has written. There are also two instances where Daisley indulges in flights of fancy that go a bit too far: giving credence to Scientology’s purification rundown (a debunked detoxification program that relies on sauna treatments and large doses of niacin), and lending a sympathetic ear to conspiracy theories relating to Sept. 11th (specifically, the idea that pre-planned explosive charges brought down the Twin Towers).
The largest qualm relates to Daisley’s continued involvement in Ozzy, Inc., playing, and writing, and/or touring on Bark at the Moon (1983), The Ultimate Sin (1986), No Rest for the Wicked (1988), and No More Tears (1991). The question: why? The easy answer is the money. And Daisley doesn’t dodge that suggestion, with a family to raise, a house to buy, and a future to look toward. The more difficult answer relates to a strength of his I alluded to earlier: loyalty. I sense, in reading all the details, that Daisley always wanted to believe in the anxious and unsure bloke he met when The Blizzard of Ozz first formed, the one who dedicated his heart to his bandmates. So it was easy to cast the blame on macho and pushy Don Arden at Jet Records. Then it was easy to believe that it was Sharon’s fault. Then it was easy to overlook when Daisley was standing on stage at the “US Festival.” Before you know it, loyalty and trust look downright foolish. Here again, Daisley doesn’t spare himself the criticism even if he softens the blow a bit. And it was a blow felt by numerous others: Kerslake obviously, but also Rhodes, Aldridge, Carmine Appice, Phil Soussan, and Jake E. Lee to name a few! Patterns don’t equal proof. But they lend credence to the argument that Ozzy was/is a captivating performer and good person who has made decision both cruel and calculated, on his own and under the influence of interested others.
The great thing about quibbles is that they recede when over matched by the quality of the story told. Those wandering sentences? Much like my sniff test when watching a foreign film: when I find myself hearing the characters and not seeing the subtitles, I know I am hooked. That cover? It was rarely the thing facing me as I worked my way through such a detailed, animated, and honest tale. Indulging fringe ideas? We all find solace in ideas that suit our dispositions, even if they only confirm what we need (no less, want) to believe. The misguided belief in Ozzy, Inc.? Rock is littered with good intentions, smashed hopes, and the complications related to making a living, making music, and making peace with the business end of things . . . all while trying to maintain the bonds of friendship. Those parts of the tale are not unique even if this tale is uniquely his.
I mean, for fact’s sake . . . this is Daisley’s story to tell. He can do whatever the hell he pleases!! And he did. Fans of music are better for the journey.
I recommend the book without reservation. Thanks Daisley.