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I Dreamed I Was a Very Clean Tramp: An Autobiography

by Richard Hell

3.5 of 5 stars 3.50 · rating details · 953 ratings · 159 reviews

The sharp, lyrical, and no-holds-barred autobiography of the iconoclastic writer and musician Richard Hell, charting the childhood, coming of age, and misadventures of an artist in an indelible era of rock and roll...

From an early age, Richard Hell dreamed of running away. His father died when he was seven, and at seventeen he left his mother and sister behind and headed f The sharp, lyrical, and no-holds-barred autobiography of the iconoclastic writer and musician Richard Hell, charting the childhood, coming of age, and misadventures of an artist in an indelible era of rock and roll...

From an early age, Richard Hell dreamed of running away. His father died when he was seven, and at seventeen he left his mother and sister behind and headed for New York City, place of limitless possibilities. He arrived penniless with the idea of becoming a poet; ten years later he was a pivotal voice of the age of punk, starting such seminal bands as Television, the Heartbreakers, and Richard Hell and the Voidoids—whose song "Blank Generation" remains the defining anthem of the era. Hell was significantly responsible for creating CBGB as punk ground zero; his Voidoids toured notoriously with the Clash, and Malcolm McLaren would credit Hell as inspiration for the Sex Pistols. There were kinetic nights in New York's club demi-monde, descent into drug addiction, and an ever-present yearning for redemption through poetry, music, and art.

"We lived in the suburbs in America in the fifties," Hell writes. "My roots are shallow. I'm a little jealous of people with strong ethnic and cultural roots. Lucky Martin Scorsese or Art Spiegelman or Dave Chappelle. I came from Hopalong Cassidy and Bugs Bunny and first grade at ordinary Maxwell Elementary." How this legendary downtown artist went from a prosaic childhood in the idyllic Kentucky foothills to igniting a movement that would take over New York's and London's restless youth cultures—and spawn the careers of not only Hell himself, but a cohort of friends such as Tom Verlaine, Patti Smith, the Ramones, and Debbie Harry—is just part of the fascinating story Hell tells. With stunning powers of observation, he delves into the details of both the world that shaped him and the world he shaped.

An acutely rendered, unforgettable coming-of-age story, I Dreamed I Was a Very Clean Tramp evokes with feeling, clarity, and piercing intelligence that classic journey: the life of one who comes from the hinterlands into the city in search of art and passion. ...more

Paperback , 304 pages

Published February 18th 2014 by Ecco (first published 2013)

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Mar 22, 2013 Shannon rated it 2 of 5 stars · review of another edition

If you are interested in lengthy descriptions of the floor plan of every New York City apartment Richard Hell ever lived in, then this is the book for you.

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Apr 14, 2013 Jesse rated it 4 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Shelves: read-in-2013

There are a lot of really wonderful things about this book, in particular its direct ugliness and Hell's willingness to confront those parts of himself that are shameful, vile, and ridiculous. He's an engaging and very entertaining writer--often damned funny--and a salacious dirt-disher as well. I know the mythology of the New York scene very well and yet still felt I learned nearly as much from this book as I did years ago from Please Kill Me-- though I'm sure it's about as untrustworthy. From There are a lot of really wonderful things about this book, in particular its direct ugliness and Hell's willingness to confront those parts of himself that are shameful, vile, and ridiculous. He's an engaging and very entertaining writer--often damned funny--and a salacious dirt-disher as well. I know the mythology of the New York scene very well and yet still felt I learned nearly as much from this book as I did years ago from Please Kill Me-- though I'm sure it's about as untrustworthy. From the first time that I heard Blank Generation, 20 years ago this summer, I've remained a fan of his, and artistically this book has only made me appreciate him that much more.

My only significant complaint about the book is the way he talks about women. He seems to have some consciousness about the value of women's contributions to music, culture, and thought, but most of the way they're presented (over and over and over) throughout this book is they're people he fucked or wanted to fuck or describes fucking in extremely vivid detail. Not that there's anything wrong with that in principle, but it's the way he describes it that walks a fine line between deliberately seedy and just straight-up disrespectful in a lot of cases, as though to him these women had a great deal less value than he did, even in retrospect. Now that's a fine line, since he's so open about so much of his ugliness, but he doesn't cop to that level of sleaze-- rather, it remains unspoken. He's not saying, "I was a shitty misogynist, it was ugly, and this is what it looked like." Rather, he's just being a shitty misogynist.

All that said, the parts of this book about the creative process, about the very act of more or less envisioning what would become known as punk, was gripping and fascinating. He doesn't try to take total credit for "inventing" punk as people have suggested he did, but rather paints the scene from which what emerged from him as punk must have happened, and could not have been avoided. His powers of description are strong, his grudges deep, and his willingness to take risks thrilling. Despite my being grossed out by a lot of the way he talked about women, I nonetheless--in spite of that--found this to be a very satisfying read. ...more

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Jun 21, 2013 Sam rated it 4 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Richard Hell's autobiography makes 1970s New York sound like an artist's playground, and I got the same warm tingly yet detached feeling as I got from Patti Smith's Just Kids --though while Smith's antics were centered around the Chelsea, Hell seemed to bounce all over town, hopping across bright and dull constellations alike flecked with girls, music and drugs. One of my favorite lines:
"I probably peaked as a human in the sixth grade."

He knows this is not true, and it should definitely be said t ...more

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Jul 22, 2014 RandomAnthony rated it 2 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Shelves: music

I Dreamed I Was A Very Clean Tramp disappointed me. Mr. Hell, this shit may fly at a party where people give a shit about your "scene" or whatever, but your memoir feels carping and whiny. You either attack or praise then belittle just about everyone you've ever met. Dude, did you have to point out how fat Richard Lloyd's grown? What an asshole move. Honestly, you're only a minor figure in the punk canon, at least outside of Manhattan, and your story isn't that interesting. And you sound like a ...more

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Apr 03, 2015 Jeff Jackson rated it 4 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Shelves: punk-rock-etc

The casual flow of this memoir belies the offhanded stylishness of Richard Hell's prose. He's constructed a compelling story of childhood tramp dreams, burning down Florida cornfields with truant Tom Verlaine, dating famous painter's ex-wives, the boredom of early '70s NYC, starting a lit mag and rejecting solicited poems from Allen Ginsberg, and - most crucially - realizing how the apparatus of a rock band could express a new sound, style, and cultural attitude. Hell settles some scores here, b ...more

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Jun 05, 2013 Marvin rated it 3 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Shelves: music , kindle , non-fiction

Q: Why did the punk rocker cross the road?
A: He was pinned to a chicken.

I know. Bad joke. It could have been worse. I could have asked you why Jesus crossed the road.

But this is a book review, so...

I'm not exactly sure if Richard Hell is an household name. He was at the start of the punk rock movement in the seventies. He is often given credit for the punk rock look of torn clothes and safety pins, which explains the chicken joke. Malcolm McLaren gives Richard Hell credit for the visual look, if Q: Why did the punk rocker cross the road?
A: He was pinned to a chicken.

I know. Bad joke. It could have been worse. I could have asked you why Jesus crossed the road.

But this is a book review, so...

I'm not exactly sure if Richard Hell is an household name. He was at the start of the punk rock movement in the seventies. He is often given credit for the punk rock look of torn clothes and safety pins, which explains the chicken joke. Malcolm McLaren gives Richard Hell credit for the visual look, if not the musical style, of the Sex Pistols. Before he started his own group he created the early punk groups, Television and The Heartbreakers (which has nothing to do with Tom Petty and...)If you have heard one Richard Hell and The Voidoids song it is probably "The Blank Generation" which is sometimes called the Punk Rock anthem.

But the interesting thing in this book is how little Hell says directly about his music.While he writes prodigiously about the Punk Rock scene he is more interested in the lifestyle than the music. He thinks of himself as a poet and a writer first and left music in 1988 to devote himself to his writing full-time. He's a pretty good writer. In fact, His writing talent is much better than his musical talent which he admits is on the minimal side. I like Richard Hell but it is the kind of "like" coming from watching a kid put heart and soul into an endeavor where his emotions overshadow his abilities. This autobiography, from someone who can only be called an unreliable narrator, describes the punk rock 70s, especially the New York scene, very well. Richard Hell comes across as over-confident, insecure and defensive all at the same time and it gives a nice tension. He may not be someone that is easy to like but is definitely interesting. The only drawback to this book, and it is a big one,is Hell's constant misogyny. He chooses to tell us every sexual encounter in detail and in usually negative terms to his partner. As I said, he is not easy to like.

Richard Hell is my age. But I felt at some times I was reading a memoir by a perennial adolescent. It can be argued that Hell never really grew up. It is what makes this book so involving at times. Hell recalls the times and its emotions and tensions vividly. I think it is because he never really wanted to leave it. Even if he no longer plays music in the rock scene, Richard Hell may be the Peter Pan of Punk Rock Neverland. ...more

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Apr 05, 2013 Isabelle rated it 3 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Shelves: music , memoir-letters-journal , non-fiction

Ah, I never really care about the bass players.

This starts off very well and deteriorates very quickly. Fragmentary at best as an autobiography; rather it can be seen as an excuse for Richard to revel in his memories of every pussy he ever saw/fucked/licked/stuck a finger into/illuminated with a torchlight in the dark - well, pick the one you like best. Richard also offers us precious wisdom ( Being a rock and roll musician was like being a pimp ).

But I'm exaggerating; it's actually quite a fun bo Ah, I never really care about the bass players.

This starts off very well and deteriorates very quickly. Fragmentary at best as an autobiography; rather it can be seen as an excuse for Richard to revel in his memories of every pussy he ever saw/fucked/licked/stuck a finger into/illuminated with a torchlight in the dark - well, pick the one you like best. Richard also offers us precious wisdom ( Being a rock and roll musician was like being a pimp ).

But I'm exaggerating; it's actually quite a fun book if you're into this sort of music (and I am). It was always a delight to read something about Tom Verlaine (who, in fact, looks much better in drag than Richard), this is really great:

One of my favourites of Tom's poems I ever saw was an untitled and unparaphrasable two lines about a day's endless sky through his "noses" and how that must have followed from his cowboyness.

Sadly Tom does not come off very well, though I must give Richard an extra point for debasing the Beatles:

The new record [Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band] was embarrassing. The band was presenting itself in a winking music-hall getup, with a lot of dramatic orchestration, to explain social problems to us.

Too bad he had to lie in order to get laid:

I had to pretend to like it (...) My facial expressions, speech, and gestures were the unprepossessing facade on a huge warehouse of hope to fuck.

He's really quite endearing.
...more

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Apr 11, 2013 Tosh rated it 4 of 5 stars · review of another edition

The beauty of the memoir is not only the writer's life, but also the placement of the story. For me Richard Hell's great book “I Dreamed I Was A Very Clean Tramp” is not only about Hell's life, but also a great New York City narrative. With out the actual city New York, there would be no N.Y. Punk Rock. Even though Richard Hell met Tom Verlaine somewhere else, they needed Manhattan to do what they had to do. And the same goes for the NY Dolls, Patti Smith, The Velvet Underground and for god's sa The beauty of the memoir is not only the writer's life, but also the placement of the story. For me Richard Hell's great book “I Dreamed I Was A Very Clean Tramp” is not only about Hell's life, but also a great New York City narrative. With out the actual city New York, there would be no N.Y. Punk Rock. Even though Richard Hell met Tom Verlaine somewhere else, they needed Manhattan to do what they had to do. And the same goes for the NY Dolls, Patti Smith, The Velvet Underground and for god's sake The Lovin' Spoonful!

Many years ago, via the pages of Andy Warhol's Interview Magazine there was an image by Christopher Makos of Tom Verlaine and Richard Hell sitting close together on a couch, who were in a band called Television. The image of the two and what they were wearing really caught my imagination. From that image I became a fan of the band, without hearing one note. I had imagined what Television sounded like by the various reviews in the underground and hip presses at the time. I knew it was guitar music and I presumed the tunes were wild yet restrained like their clothing. Some years later I finally heard the first Television album and the sound was even more remarkable than my imagination. Around that time (maybe later..) I heard Hell's single that came out on Ork Records and I thought “Oh my god this is great as well.”

Ever since those series of moments, Hell has never failed me. At the time I thought of Hell as the male version of Patti Smith. Both were in poetry and books and they captured that poetic rock n' roll look. But all of that is just the surface. After reading Patti's “Just Kids” and Hell's book, the city of New York is the same, but the personalities are different. But both of course are extremely over-the-top talents.

What makes Hell so unique is his love for the written word, and I think that is what kicked him to do music. “Blank Generation,” Love Comes in Spurts” and so forth are classic texts set to music. A combination of jazz jive with a Beat's love of the moment. His memoir goes into his songs, but also the faces and names that surrounded him and his creative work. To this very day, Richard Hell is a remarkable looker, and he knows by instinct the power of the visual and how it would affect his medium. Which is rock and rock is visual as well as poetic.

The stuff I loved about this book is how he maps out Manhattan with bookstores as pin-drops in various areas of the island. It is a world that is totally closed in, but with great bookstores serving the imagination and the fuel that lighted the music. I visited that city and went to CBGB's in the late 70's. Richard Hell was on the stage, David Johansen was near the entrance talking to someone sounding like a Dead End Kid, and then walks in Johnny Rotten. How perfect was that for a visitor from Los Angeles who is a Punk Rock fan! This memoir serves the same hunger and excitement for me.

One thing that stays in my mind is how little one knows Tom Verlaine. Hell writes about him with great love and horror disappointment at the same time. A love/hate, but I never get a clear picture of what makes this guitar god click. And it is not only in this book, but in all books about this period and series of characters. Verlaine seems to be a ghost in every narrative. Will there be a day when he will write his own memoir? Now that can be interesting?

“I Dreamed I Was A Very Clean Tramp” is Hell still keeping the high standards of his other books, which by the way are excellent. The memoir is very focused on the punk rock years, which I think will please the fan out there, but hopefully there will be a second part of this memoir. Hell is very much of the 20th Century Dandy, and his outlook in life is basically to find pleasure, and his taste in women are excellent. For those who read and loved “Please Kill Me” this book is an essential part of the big story.

“I Dreamed I Was...” is the flip side of Patti Smith's memoir, and its a perfect companion piece to that book. Both books to me are a love letter to what was New York, and how that city played in both artist's world and inspiration. So yeah I love Richard Hell and I love his memoir.
...more

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Aug 30, 2013 Elizabeth rated it 1 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Shelves: memoir , new-york , nonfiction , poetry , music

Like another reviewer, I read I Dreamed I Was a Very Clean Tramp on the heels of Just Kids by Patti Smith. There are parallels between the two works, to be sure. Smith and Richard Hell were contemporaries, living in New York at the same time, working at the same bookstores, performing in the same scene. Both are considered punk rock pioneers. Hell and Smith considered themselves poets and artists above all else. For both, the music grew out of a need to express themselves in the most immediate a Like another reviewer, I read I Dreamed I Was a Very Clean Tramp on the heels of Just Kids by Patti Smith. There are parallels between the two works, to be sure. Smith and Richard Hell were contemporaries, living in New York at the same time, working at the same bookstores, performing in the same scene. Both are considered punk rock pioneers. Hell and Smith considered themselves poets and artists above all else. For both, the music grew out of a need to express themselves in the most immediate and authentic way. For me, though, this is where the similarity between I Dreamed I Was a Very Clean Tramp and Just Kids , as well as the similarity between Richard Hell and Patti Smith, ends.

I began reading this book on several occasions, only to be bogged down by the recitation of places and names on the very first page. Halfway through the book, I realize that Hell’s father and mother, their respective families and where they came from really are not important at all. In fact, he never mentions them again. Why, then, devote the first two pages to them? It would have been far more effective to throw us into scene on the first page (perhaps with one of his “running away” attempts), thereby ensuring that the reader would be drawn in, instead of turned off. If I picked up this book at the library, I would have given up. But, since I invested in the hardback, I really wanted to keep reading.

Hell's writing isn't bad, but to say that he’s not a likable or sympathetic narrator is an understatement. In fact, he comes across as an arrogant and childish misogynist and this only increases as the story progresses.

Hell's unfavorable descriptions of women and his sexual conquests dominate the narrative. These descriptions become increasingly frequent, predictable and adolescent (Imagine Terry Gross’s Fresh Air interview with Gene Simmons on continuous repeat). While I appreciate Hell’s honesty about his motivations, it is his denigration and objectification of females that became old very quickly.

Hell seems incapable of describing any woman in purely positive terms and repeatedly seems compelled to qualify any positive observations with a criticism or anatomical assessment. Susan Sontag is the only female that escapes Hell’s superficial criticism, perhaps because even he can’t delude himself into believing that he is superior to her.

Hell deserves respect for overcoming his heroin addiction. However, I was hoping for some self-reflection, growth and insight to come from this, particularly since the scene lost so many of its members to drugs and alcohol, suicide and other violent and early deaths.

The punk scene of the seventies and eighties railed against the meaninglessness of the straight lifestyle and the middle class, but, in some ways, their lives were just as predictable, dull and void of meaning. Wearing a beat-up leather jacket before the Ramones did (as Hell childishly claims that he did) or spiking your hair in a post-military fashion does not make you a hero. And if you believe yourself to be a pioneer, okay…but to what end?

Even when Hell is trying to be humble, he comes off as insincere. In the Epilogue, when Hell encounters former friend and bandmate Tom Verlaine in the street, he feels the need to insult his appearance and convince himself that he is ageing better. He identifies his feelings for Verlaine as love. But his love reads a lot like insecurity and immaturity.

One might expect some introspection and humility from someone who has seen and been through so much. But, instead, Hell remains an adolescent in a sixty-three year-old body. A successful memoir is about being honest. And while Hell shares every sexual encounter and drug exploit in great detail, this is not honesty. Honesty is about taking a real look at oneself. Hell, despite his tell-all memoir, does not go to any of the hard places. It’s easy to talk about sex, drugs and rock and roll. That’s rewarded in our culture. But, after beginning the book with his family, he never returns there. Not once. He’s all about the what, but never examines the why. Maybe Richard Hell’s growth happens after the abrupt, unsatisfying ending. But, I doubt it. If so, this is not the memoir he would have written. ...more

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May 05, 2013 P.J. Morse rated it 4 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Shelves: music

As a rock-book aficionado, I couldn’t help reading Richard Hell’s book without imagining him in a cage match with Patti Smith, the singer/poet/muse who authored “Just Kids.” Hell probably thinks his book is different from Smith’s since Smith focuses on her relationship with Robert Mapplethorpe and Hell covers his life from the beginning until he quit music, but there are so many similarities that I couldn’t ignore it. To review Hell’s book, I have to compare it to Smith’s point by point:

Writing As a rock-book aficionado, I couldn’t help reading Richard Hell’s book without imagining him in a cage match with Patti Smith, the singer/poet/muse who authored “Just Kids.” Hell probably thinks his book is different from Smith’s since Smith focuses on her relationship with Robert Mapplethorpe and Hell covers his life from the beginning until he quit music, but there are so many similarities that I couldn’t ignore it. To review Hell’s book, I have to compare it to Smith’s point by point:

Writing Style: When Hell recounts his life, his tone seems surprisingly distant, or he tries to play off moments with humor. Smith is much more passionate. Sometimes, I wanted to shout at Hell, “Dude, your life was exciting, so get excited about it!” This may be a matter of taste, but I liked Smith’s emotion, so the winner is … Smith.

Gossip: Patti Smith had some dirt, but she is way more about her passion for making art. Hell enjoys throwing out a barb or two, especially when it comes to his former bandmates in Television. Oh, and Richard Hell was a regular Don Juan of the Bowery. He had so many notches in his gunbelt that his pants fell down, which is mighty convenient for him. So the winner is … Hell.

Capturing the Punk Scene: Much of the culture we see today consists of bands trying to recapture the spirit of New York City in the 1970s. (Yoo-hoo, Strokes!) I can see why it is tough because, while NYC was inspiring during that time, it was also a crime-ridden fleabag dump. Hell is methodical about describing where he lived, where he worked, what he wore and what he ate. I appreciate the detail, but Smith convinced me that underneath all that urban squalor was a magic city. The winner is … Smith.

The End: Smith’s book is better, probably because its style was a little more ambitious, but Hell’s book is hardly a waste of time. Any punk aficionado will enjoy it. ...more

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Mar 18, 2013 J Edward Tremlett rated it 5 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Who the hell is Richard Hell? If you have to ask that question, you haven’t been paying attention.

In the 70′s and early 80′s, Hell (real name Richard Meyers) was the cofounder of three bands: Television, the Heartbreakers, and Richard Hell and the Voidoids. He quit both Television and the Heartbreakers due to conflicts with other band members, and then went on to form the Voidoids, where he could actually drive the bus for a change.

While saying that all three outfits were incredibly influential ...more

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May 26, 2013 Marxist Monkey rated it 4 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Yeah, so, I hated Richard Hell when I was younger and a bass player. I hated him because he was a terrible bass player, because he couldn't really sing, because his songs were weird, because he seemed to think that punk was more about hair and fashion and some intangible personal edge than it was about music. Now that I'm much older, I can see that Richard Hell is a very smart man and an accomplished writer who had a much better sense of what the CBGB scene was about than I could imagine. I stil ...more

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Sep 05, 2013 Steve Bennett rated it 5 of 5 stars · review of another edition

First things first. This is an extremely disturbing, unsettling book. On the basis of this memoir, Richard Hell is incapable of forming any type of long-lasting, meaningful relationship. Not with a woman, not with a friend, not with a family member, a bandmate, or even a pet. Well, he does travel from NYC apartment to apartment with a dead turtle he keeps in a box. There is almost zero discussion of any family members, even the death of his father when Richard was 8 is dismissed as an annoyance. First things first. This is an extremely disturbing, unsettling book. On the basis of this memoir, Richard Hell is incapable of forming any type of long-lasting, meaningful relationship. Not with a woman, not with a friend, not with a family member, a bandmate, or even a pet. Well, he does travel from NYC apartment to apartment with a dead turtle he keeps in a box. There is almost zero discussion of any family members, even the death of his father when Richard was 8 is dismissed as an annoyance. Regarding bands, he was in the seminal CBGB band Television for about 12 months, he was in The Heartbreakers for about a year and even his own band Richard Hell and the Voidoids effectively lasted only about 12 months. His relations with multitudes and multitudes of women appear rather crude to the extreme. Hell at least gives a valuable insight and a sense of self awareness when he states most of his relations were with groupies or strippers because they had come from bad family situations and kind of welcomed, or at least expected, the abuse and the absences. He also had a horrible heroin addiction.

On the positive side, the book is extremely humorous. One of the best anecdotes is actually from an interview Hell did of DeeDee Ramone. DeeDee relates how the Ramones first songs were all negative: There was "I Don't Wanna Walk Around With You," I Don't Wanna Get Involved With You" and "I Don't Wanna Go Down To The Basement." Our songs were all I don't wanna do this. I don't wanna do that. Then we finally wrote our first positive song: "Now, I Want To Sniff Some Glue."

In a book that almost completely omits any discussion of family mmembers or normal human emotions, Hell goes on at length regarding describing the succession of NYC apartments he lived in. It is reassuring to know he cares about something.

Don't get me wrong. I love Television and The Voidoids and Blank Generation is one of my favorite punk records. And I loved this book. It was amazing and funny but Hell is sort of a strange lonely guy. At least until 1984 when the memoir ends as he (wisely) gives up his music career to help solve his heroin addiction.

Hell does discuss very positively an interview session he had with Susan Sontag. There is a photo in the book from the session where he and Sontag are smiling and sort of playing with each other and looking extremely happy. It is one of the rare moments in the book where Hell displays actual human emotion. ...more

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May 20, 2013 Peter Landau rated it 3 of 5 stars · review of another edition

What's more entertaining than watching something you hate? For me, few things, though that thing must be on TV, maybe a movie, but never, ever a book. Watching is passive, but reading I'm invested in (and I'm a slow reader), so that book, those hundreds of densely packed pages better do more than give me the self-satisfaction of mocking. That's why I approached Richard Hell's autobiography with caution. Of course I love the period, the place and the people he is writing about, but every time I'd What's more entertaining than watching something you hate? For me, few things, though that thing must be on TV, maybe a movie, but never, ever a book. Watching is passive, but reading I'm invested in (and I'm a slow reader), so that book, those hundreds of densely packed pages better do more than give me the self-satisfaction of mocking. That's why I approached Richard Hell's autobiography with caution. Of course I love the period, the place and the people he is writing about, but every time I'd read an interview with the author he came across, to me, as human Ipecac.

That's not fair. I love books with unpleasant characters. Some of my best friends are unpleasant characters. I had to shut up and read, so I did, and I found myself devouring the book. It's a fun read. I'd probably not like the author in real life, but on the page he was an entertaining guide. He gets a bit self-grandiose, but has the good manners to balance that with self-criticism. Still, the man comes across, despite all his intellectual pursuits, his love of art and literature, his poetry and other thoughtful processes, as only a preening surface. He started the fashion, he had style, but that's window dressing to get you in the store. Again, for me, and I know this is subjective, but once inside there was little merchandise and few things worth buying.

The book starts strong (especially before NYC and punk), but by it's final third there's something tarnishing the glow of nostalgia. That's drugs. It becomes clear that lost potential is one of the many bags a junkie has to saddle. Hell admits he's lazy, too lazy even to indulge his taste for sexually dominating women (that, and his whole relationship with women and their body parts is another one of many ugly parts that make up this fragmentary Frankenstein monster of a book), but the trajectory of his career follows the loadstar of hedonism to the crossroads where the book ends. He chooses to get clean, then stops his story. Writers' lives, he writes, are uneventful. Maybe so, but everybody has a story that nobody wants to read. ...more

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Apr 05, 2013 Julie Barrett rated it 3 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Shelves: memoirs , finished-2013 , rock-memoirs

I had a real Jekyll & Hyde reaction with this book. Some parts I loved and felt very sympathetic to him and other times - oh.my.lord - other times he was such an insufferable twat. The pretentiousness - make it stop! I think it's because he was a high school dropout and was surrounded by famous intellectuals and artists so he overcompensated by being a bit of a megalomaniac. He did have some good reasons to think highly of himself (when he wasn't beating himself up) - he was sexy, charismati I had a real Jekyll & Hyde reaction with this book. Some parts I loved and felt very sympathetic to him and other times - oh.my.lord - other times he was such an insufferable twat. The pretentiousness - make it stop! I think it's because he was a high school dropout and was surrounded by famous intellectuals and artists so he overcompensated by being a bit of a megalomaniac. He did have some good reasons to think highly of himself (when he wasn't beating himself up) - he was sexy, charismatic, innovative. Most teen dropouts who moved to NYC with no money and no connections don't end up hanging out with Andy Warhol and Susan Sontag and Larry Rivers etc. It reminded me of the Elinor Glynn novel from the early twentieth century called IT. (Clara Bow played the IT girl in a famous silent movie based on the book). Some people just have IT and apparently Richard Hell is one of those people.

The parts of the book I liked best were the gossipy parts. I'm sure he wants readers to be drawn to the sections were he pontificates about poetry and the meaning of life. I must admit those parts grated on my nerves, I guess I am just a shallow person for being more drawn to the sex, drugs & rocknroll aspects of the book. I think he did a good job talking about addiction and what it's like. And the sex parts - wow, he was quite the lothario of the lower east side. I get it - I had a big crush on him for a while in the early 80s. I see why women were drawn to him.

He was such an asshole to so many of them, though. It made me hate him at times. One story that really rubbed me the wrong way was when he wrote about rock groupies and how he thought Nancy Spungen was irritating because she had ambition. Unlike a good groupie like Sabel Starr who just lived to give the best blowjob ever. UGH. Ok, granted, Nancy Spungen was a full blown sociopath(I read her mom's book about her) but RH seemed to dislike her for wanting to be more than just an easy lay to musicians. It bugged me. Another scene that bugged me was when he was writing about one of the many, many strippers/escorts he "dated". She was out turning tricks while he lounged around her apartment, waiting for her to bring him money she had earned so he could buy dope. She came home, straddled him on the bed - wearing her sexy hooker outfit - and showered hime with dollar bills. Gee, that's so pimp-ish of you, Richard. How so not attractive. I found it telling that the women he considered his soulmate was a French artist who spoke almost no English. Hmmm. He's got a lot of weird issues surrounding women.

The parts about Tom Verlaine were interesting. RH is still pretty pissed off. He tells his side of the story but honestly, I think TV has a better reason to be angry at RH. None of RH's reasons for his animosity towards TV seem strong enough. TV, however, has several strong reasons. RH was a junkie, had only played a musical instrument for 6 months and was way more charming and sexy than TV. I wouldn't want to be in a band with him either.

I kept comparing this memoir to Patti Smith's memoir I read last year. I need to go flip through her book again. They cover a lot of the same ground but in a different way. Patti seems more innocent to me, yet more focused too. I dunno. I adored her book and I have reservations about this one. I still recommend reading this book though, if you are at all interested in the NYC 70's scene or punk rock. Hell's memoir is an important piece of the puzzle. ...more

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Apr 30, 2013 Sarah rated it 2 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Shelves: much-loved-bios

After readings this one I can't even recall why I ever thought Richard hell was a bright guy. Maybe from reading 'Please Kill Me' by legs McNeil? I remember liking his book 'Go Now' but I probably read it in high school. This book is pretty solipsistic, after a point it seemed. Ike a lot of banal observations about nothing much and weirdly he tries to take credit for a bunch of punk innoventions. He implies that his look inspired the uk sex clothing store run by Malcolm mclaren and Vivian Westwo ...more

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Sep 02, 2014 Bob rated it 4 of 5 stars · review of another edition

About 2/3s of the way through, Hell remarks "Sophisticated people discreetly refrain from speculating about, much less judging, what goes on between couples. Every marriage is its own culture, and even within it, mystery is the environment." In view of the remarkable detail up to that point, and even more to follow, about every woman he slept with, what exactly they did and specifics about her body, one could wish a little more mystery had been allowed to remain (although his actual marriage tha About 2/3s of the way through, Hell remarks "Sophisticated people discreetly refrain from speculating about, much less judging, what goes on between couples. Every marriage is its own culture, and even within it, mystery is the environment." In view of the remarkable detail up to that point, and even more to follow, about every woman he slept with, what exactly they did and specifics about her body, one could wish a little more mystery had been allowed to remain (although his actual marriage that produced his daughter is outside the scope of the book).

And, to get all the complaining out of the way, despite the considerable literary ingenuity that has been applied by many to describing heroin addiction, it remains a fairly dreary and predictable business.

The first half of the book, taking us through Television's first year at CBGB is the most delightful. A none-too-psychologically belabored opening five chapters on his childhood and high school years sets the stage for an intellectually and artistically ambitious young man who can't abide any sort of regimentation or authority. His early years in New York (1969-73), a steady succession of used-bookstore jobs, $50/month apartments, home-made poetry zines, scheming with Tom Verlaine, while rubbing shoulders with the art and poetry elite of the time is fascinating, creating both a memorable self-portrait and a lot of period detail. The dawn of the band Television and subsequent formation of the Voidoids is all pretty well documented by now, but he (obviously) has a fairly specific perspective on it. No one is portrayed very graciously - Verlaine, cold and controlling, at least retains more integrity than Richard Lloyd, depicted as a sycophantic tag-along. The description of Patti Smith's compellingness as a performer ("skinny as a rod, massive tits") quickly gives way to examples of her careerism.
He seems quite fond of his lawyer, who has stuck with him (often for free) and as with the Shirley Collins book, no attempt is made to tell the whole life - a key period is explored at excellent length and the remainder summed up in a few sentences.
...more

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Jul 05, 2015 Dan rated it 3 of 5 stars · review of another edition

At the beginning of "20,000 Days on Earth," Nick Cave says something to the effect that he has been the stage persona of Nick Cave so long that the performer and the performance have merged and there is no longer a real difference anymore. If you're expecting some sort of distance between the Richard Hell you hear on the records and the one writing this book, there isn't much. There's some older and wiser (he's not doing drugs anymore) but he's just as arrogant and self righteous as he was in 19 ...more

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Dec 15, 2014 Andy rated it 4 of 5 stars

Shelves: rock-sleaze

This is the book people have been waiting for Richard Hell to write. Few people were on the inside of the whole New York CBGB’s punk scene as much as Hell and he has something to say about great legends like Patti Smith, Johnny Thunders, and Dee Dee Ramone. Equally of great import are his memoirs of teenage pal Tom Verlaine and The Neon Boys, later Television.

There’s a lot of dope about his band The Voidoids, especially Robert Quine, and even more dope about celebrity girlfriends like Sable Star ...more

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Aug 06, 2013 Ettore Pasquini rated it 4 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Richard Hell comes out as pretty full of himself judging from how he writes, but he is so damn honest describing his ego that you have to forgive him, even when it entails very private moments. And his love for sex. One time I kind of cringed because I really didn't need to know all that detail. But it's great to have people that can just say things like they are, unfiltered, with no shame, in your face. I don't think Europeans can do it like that, with the same openness.
The music-related anecdo ...more

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Apr 04, 2013 Beki D rated it 2 of 5 stars · review of another edition

This is the first book review i have written but i was forced to by feeling repugnance towards the author. What a completely arrogant,self indulgent, misogynistic,egomaniac and generally unlikeable protagonist. This book is written very pretentiously as he believes was some kind of undiscovered visionary poet. Obviously he is very bitter as he felt he was above all his contemporaries in intelligence, style and talent. He has nothing vitriol for anyone else who maybe in direct competition with h ...more

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Jun 03, 2013 Caryn Rose rated it 4 of 5 stars · review of another edition

I cannot remember a book I was so excited to read that I could barely bring myself to finish.

My TBR pile languished because I was reading this book. I thought I would certainly plow through this one quickly, I was so eager to read it, and then got to the point in the book where I just could not take it any more.

The book is well written. The descriptions of NYC in this time period are interesting and valuable and I'm glad we have them. Hell makes no bones about owning up to his faults. I just co ...more

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May 30, 2015 Alvin rated it 4 of 5 stars · review of another edition

In slightly better-than-workmanlike prose, Hell gives a dazzlingly unsentimental and un-self-serving account of his life up to his drug crackup/retirement from music. His astute cultural analysis makes this an indispensable nugget of punk history.

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Dec 04, 2013 Ray rated it 3 of 5 stars · review of another edition

I'm a fan of Hells' writing. I frequented CBGB's in early '75 and I was lucky enough to catch Television in Hells' last days with the band in April '75. Parts of the book are conversational. My sympathies go out to the girlfriends described herein.
When Hell describes how he felt when running away, starting Television, the liberating power of rock 'n roll and punk rock, he writes such beautiful and ecstatic prose that I had to read some paragraphs again to relish them.
I know some of the people ...more

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Jan 18, 2015 Steve rated it 1 of 5 stars · review of another edition

There are two things I don't like about Richard Hell's autobiography "I Dreamed I Was a Very Clean Tramp." First is the author himself and second is his maddening style of writing. While it's certainly possible to enjoy an autobiography even if one doesn't care for the writer, it's not easy. The story has to be very compelling, but moreover, the writing must pull the reader into the history. Herein, Hell fails.

His style is deliberately (and predictably) non-traditional, with rambling almost inco There are two things I don't like about Richard Hell's autobiography "I Dreamed I Was a Very Clean Tramp." First is the author himself and second is his maddening style of writing. While it's certainly possible to enjoy an autobiography even if one doesn't care for the writer, it's not easy. The story has to be very compelling, but moreover, the writing must pull the reader into the history. Herein, Hell fails.

His style is deliberately (and predictably) non-traditional, with rambling almost incoherent sentences tied together with choppy time-and-setting bits of twine. He frequently abuses language and lexicon, as if he was so comfortable in his being a POET that he had no time for squares like me who would simply like him to write in a manner that is more conducive to comprehension. Either no one edited this book at all or he is a tiresome pompous clown who loves to revel in his own literary crapulence.

At times, his writing is so pretentious as to be laughable, for example when he's describing the breasts (a clear obsession) of his many sexual conquests (so completely un-punk) as "twin Eeyores," or "lifted as if they were scenting the air." Both of those would be front-runners in a bad fiction contest were the author not a famous "poet." He also misuses the language, in particular the word "decided," as in "...and that decided me that poetry was the ticket." The first time he did that, I thought it was a mistake, but then it showed up again. How poetic and rebellious! Whatever.

Hell's strength is when he writes from a more distant vantage point, as he does when he defines rock and roll, speaks of chemistry vs. love, or even attempts to describe the highs and lows of excessive drug use. He's an observant person and writing about more general concepts seems to keep his verbosity and poetry in check. Unfortunately, he is too hung up on excessively blowing his own horn.

Beyond the stylistic issues, Hell is, quite simply, a bitter guy. Somewhat understandably, he feels under-acknowledged for his accomplishments, some more believable than others. I can totally believe that he is responsible for a short-lived poetry magazine, but I'm not quite sure he invented the ethos and fashion of punk. Making it worse, he denigrates most of his NYC contemporaries in a manner that he perhaps intends as sneering disdain stemming from the brutal honesty of an unapologetic genius, but instead reeks of pathetic resentment. The final page of Chapter 16 lays it out rather clearly: "Television was also quite popular and was the most interesting band both musically and historically...We were for the connoisseurs....The Ramones were....basically, a joke and a formula...Hardly anyone took Blondie seriously. They had a bland...style but were primarily an excuse to look at their stunningly pretty singer...but there wasn't anything new about the group. Of course, it was Blondie and the Ramones who ended up being the biggest popular successes."

Additionally, he doesn't seem to comprehend the universal nature of the epiphanies he was experiencing. It's understandable a teen might indulge in such laughable hubris, but for a guy in his 60s to reminisce about a long gone era without any perceivable maturity or perspective is unacceptable. At the very least, he could demonstrate a sense of humor, embarrassment, or even wistfulness. I get none of that from Hell. He takes himself and his experiences way too seriously, even decades later.

There are also some significant contradictions. In Chapter 13, he speaks of how the punk ethos (you know, the one he was defining) was about being real and being yourself on stage and thus doing away with the stagey tactics of Bowie, Jagger, et al, the dinosaurs punk was fighting against. Nonetheless, it was necessary for him to invent a stage name as well as a deliberately contrived style of dress. Huh? So...be true to your artificial self? Furthermore, he speaks often of how Television (well, to put a fine point on it, Hell himself) was all about "the rejection of star worship (even ironically)," yet his book overflows with self-congratulatory narrative and his unfailing belief that his pure vision and genius were unequaled by his contemporaries, and therefore better qualified him for the stardom/recognition he so hypocritically craved, but never received to the same degree as his peers. The sour grapes of wrath.

Beneath all of these problems, the story is flat, disjointed, and inconsistent. The author wastes his own potentially fascinating story by turning it into a dull autobiography about a bored, smug, self-aggrandizing, nihilist. On one hand, he tries to portray himself as punk's supreme poet genius Godfather and on the other he's simply in it for the fame and sex. It's far too heavy on hackneyed poet-cum-rock star name-dropping tales of sexual conquests and drug experimentation that leads to addiction, told through the painfully bored eyes of a whiny curmudgeon...like a true punk in the worst sense of the word. The only reason to read it is for the unique window into the NYC punk scene. ...more

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Jul 19, 2014 Aaron rated it 4 of 5 stars · review of another edition

I was exited when I found this book because frankly I didn't know anything about Richard Hell besides the groups he help pioneer in the midst of a new generation of rock and roll that came to be called punk.
I found Richards life to be fascinating up till he was a full time junkie. I don't find junk all that romantic and by that point his bitterness was beginning to boil into an annoyed lost junkie.
Want I really loved was his childhood up to when he arrived in New York and decided to become a p ...more

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Dec 04, 2013 Adam rated it 3 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Hell’s memoir is kind of the antithesis of Patti Smith’s Two Kids. It is nastier, bitterer, and full of unresolved anger, theories on art and music, and failures. Maybe it was because Hell was a junkie during his music years, or maybe it is because Smith is more of a romantic. I also feel that Hell’s book is more honest if a bit less enjoyable because of that. He was nasty dude and this is a fairly nasty book. Read both memoirs and compare (Get Please Kill me to while you’re at it).

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Jun 01, 2014 Rob rated it 4 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Shelves: 2014 , biography , counterculture , music-film , non-fiction , usa

The title comes from a piece of creative writing by an 8 year old Hell (ok, Richard Meyers at that point) after a curious attempt to sneak away from home that his father worked out and even "helped" him with, just a few weeks before dying suddenly. This tragedy gets given very little importance by Hell, as does the rest of his family after he drops out of college and leaves them in the South while heading off to New York City.
The typical rock bio arc includes the rebellious youth, the kindred sp The title comes from a piece of creative writing by an 8 year old Hell (ok, Richard Meyers at that point) after a curious attempt to sneak away from home that his father worked out and even "helped" him with, just a few weeks before dying suddenly. This tragedy gets given very little importance by Hell, as does the rest of his family after he drops out of college and leaves them in the South while heading off to New York City.
The typical rock bio arc includes the rebellious youth, the kindred spirits (or not), the gathering of momentum, the breakthrough, the pressures/drugs/creative differences, the difficult years (kids moving on to others) maybe even penury and then the acceptance that really it has been a privileged life and there are still enough people willing to pay to keep the subject in wine and clover... Here, apart from Hell's undoubted skill as a writer, there are a few twists to that boilerplate tale. Rebellious youth? Check. Kindred spirit? Tom Verlaine, but they never really made it while working together - they're sort of Banquo's ghost to each other. And the momentum? It kept getting pushed sideways, although by accounts other than his own, Richard Hell was actually the crown prince of the CBGB scene, the one who was going to make it, who gave a look and hauteur and drive to the whole punk schtick. Without Hell, the whole UK explosion would not have happened the way it did, given that it galvanised around some touchstones that came from him (and others from Iggy Pop, of course, but that was on the other side of the 'family').
Now that's where this book starts to become more interesting than the usual rock bio. Hell is old enough now to question whether he really could have been as direct as the Sex Pistols were (he doubts it very much), and his breaking down of the literary/intellectual underpinnings of the whole Village/Bowery/Lower East Side gang shows that it was more what we might understand now as performance art added to the snarling guitars and rhythmic whomp of post-glam rock. So Hell is there as a blend of poet/dreamer, ladies man, live piledriver and hopeless case junkie. He never gets to win. He gets points decisions, critical acclaim, groupies by the whatever-load, but he basically ends up being "the bass player" in punk's pantheon.
We end in 1984, when 35 year old Hell gives up music and turns to writing: journalism and the odd novel. Not much poetry, in fact. We end, in fact, on a real low. It's unlikely Hollywood's going to pick up on this story... Hell, whether as a junkie or as a rival, ends up destroying most of his closest relationships. He has an admirable ability to critique himself, as well as a great re-reading of Dylan Thomas, of whom he was and then wasn't a fan. And now is again.
It's great to get the feel of a long NYC build-up to fame. He was there from the age of 18 and it was a good 6-7 years before he got anywhere. This feels much more tangible than some of those "I got in to town on Friday and made it by Sunday" tales. His dead end jobs and sidesteps and poetic dreams are all affecting.
The only odd feeling I get, and one which seems to anticipate the rather monochromatic palette of punk, is that Hell seemed to use very limited reference points. He talks about only listening to 3 albums as an adolescent (building his musical viewpoint from them), he seems to read with very strict self-imposed guidelines (although to be fair he does describe himself as a a cinephile and kind of prove it) and his main filter is himself. Solipsism and word games, indeed. And punk took up that navel-gazing weltschauung and simply gave it a class-war-fuelled rhetoric. Indeed, it had not very places to go by 1978, which is why postpunk's widescreen raiding of reggae, African music, funk, electronic music etc. was such an antidote.
That said, it's clear that he was a seeker, however select his 'sacred texts', and that he gave this non-conformist energy, swirling amorphously since the Stooges and the MC5, a real focus and swagger. This book is not a score-settling (although when Hell gets fired up, he gets a little snakey), but is a different view of the 'cool' (nice debunking of himself as cool, too) heart of the CBGB crowd and how his grand vision went all the way and hit its target, but did it without him. ...more

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Nov 24, 2014 Jacob Frank rated it 3 of 5 stars · review of another edition

A strangely apathetic and slapdash memoir, though thoughtful at points. Hell claims to have invented the spiky hair, torn clothing, and safety pin fashion of punk, which was then supposedly appropriated by Malcolm McClaren and transmitted via the Sex Pistols. His relationship to Kathy Acker, which he alludes to a couple times, seems intriguing and might have been fleshed out a bit more. His description of Nancy Spungen, who he dated, more or less coincides with Cheetah Chrome's in the latter's m ...more

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Sep 28, 2014 Leah Wescott rated it 4 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Shelves: biography , history , humor , memoir

In 1985 I met Richard Hell's mother while she was on her way to see her brand new granddaughter. She beamed as she told about her rock-icon son and his wife, pop star Patty Smyth. I'd never heard of her boy but I was curious. It took almost 30 years for this goody two shoes to mature enough to understand or appreciate punk. Richard has now walked me through it.

Just as Hell's young life was directionless and itchy, so begins his book. His painstaking descriptions of the countless hovels he lived ...more

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About Richard Hell

Born in 1949, Richard Meyers was shipped off to a private school for troublesome kids in Delaware, which is where he met Tom (Verlaine) Miller. Together they ran away, trying to hitchhike to Florida, but only made it as far as Alabama before being picked up by the authorities. Meyers persuaded his mother to allow him to go to New York, where he worked in a secondhand bookshop (the Strand; later he ...more

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“In fact I thought life was pretty much a losing proposition, and I didn't mind saying so.” — 5 likes

“I think love is sort of a con you play on yourself. I think the whole conception of love is something the previous generation invents to justify having created you. You know I think the real reason children are born is because parents are so bored they have children to amuse themselves. They're so bored they don't have anything else to do so they have a child because that will keep them busy for a while. Then to justify to the kid the reason he exists they tell him there's such a thing as love and that's where you come from because me and your daddy or me and your mommy were in love and that's why you exist. When actually it was because they were bored out of their minds.” — 3 likes

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