‘Too Late to Stop Now: More Rock ‘n’ Roll War Stories,’ by Allan Jones (2023): Books

In Too Late to Stop Now, journalist Allan Jones portrays scenes from the long arc of fame.

We hear from musicians unable to launch a career; we witness Little Feat on the cusp of celebrity; we meet Elton John at the arc’s highest point; we talk with former rock god Robert Plant, and we see a multitude of performers near the end of their career path. This last category often has tales of greatest interest.

Jones recounts them all, his association with the famous and the forgotten. Early on, we meet a representative of the latter, Screaming Lord Sutch. Even at a 1976 gig, Sutch was already a forsaken figure. He was not even playing to the faithful any longer but rather to those who just happened to be in the bar. Even so, there may not be a more optimistic performer in this book.



The end of the arc is populated by many worn down by the rock lifestyle — burned out from exhaustion, often of their own creation. The self-imposed destruction is not shocking to the reader, as almost every page is soaked in alcohol. Cocaine is the new favorite during this era, and heroin takes down a few. But booze is omnipresent in each scene, every waking moment.

Many of the musicians Allan Jones describes are not well known in the U.S., including Roy Harper, Chris Farlowe, and the group Lambchop. Some you’ve maybe heard of, but maybe not – like Wreckless Eric, Dr. Feelgood, and the great Rockpile. Jones makes the case for each of them, explaining why they had once been important in Britain, if only briefly.

Often as interesting as the artists are the venues the author takes us for these brushes with fame. Meeting the performer on his own turf, the conversation with the star can become secondary to the room’s swirling atmosphere. This works for the best, as it allows Jones to offer not just a collection of interviews, but rather give a firsthand description of the British scene of the 1970s and ’80s.

We hear from some who have made it big. Yes’ Jon Anderson laments about the public turning against his band once it became huge. What did we do to alienate people, he wonders. Joe Cocker doesn’t wonder about his career falling into ruins; he tells Jones how he surrounded himself with the wrong people. At the same time, we see firsthand how alcohol may have been a contributing factor to his demise.

There are some here who have successfully weathered the storms of fame. Both Robert Plant and Chrissie Hynde are, if not unscathed, at least able to cope with their post-superstar life. Hynde remains intact, but half of her band long ago succumbed to the lifestyle. Although a survivor herself, Hynde’s story is perhaps the saddest in the book. Ian Anderson and Sting both come across as self-confident caricatures. Sting has the more interesting story; Anderson seems defiantly self-obsessed, aware that Jethro Tull’s popularity is rapidly waning, quickly ready to blame punk.

Allan Jones is good at getting answers from hesitant stars. After a few denials of any internal problems, Peter Gabriel admits to the discord in Genesis that led to his departure. The interview takes place shortly after the rancor within the group, so the wounds are still fresh. Fans of the Velvet Underground should take note – John Cale gives his own perspective of the band. Although only a handful of pages in length, Cale provides Jones with the most unvarnished history of the Velvets I’ve yet read. Lou Reed does not come off looking especially good here. And yet, in the author’s own one-on-one with Reed, he seems remarkably agreeable, happy to discuss forbidden topics from the Velvet Underground to Metal Machine Music.

Other Americans make occasional appearances, including R.E.M., Guy Clark, the Blasters, and the Fabulous Thunderbirds. Some figures lurk around the edge of the narrative. Elvis Costello’s name is almost a touchstone for a performer who made it without compromising – until he did. The Sex Pistols are spoken of with awe and respect. Most agree they singlehandedly forged the path for punk. Others try to take some credit for helping pave the way, but this usually rings hollow. The only other British band these musicians agree had a major impact in the 1970s is the Clash. And even here, most think The Clash stuck around a bit too long for their own good. Sex Pistols had the good sense to implode early.

Jones meets with the surviving members of the Clash for breakfast as they finish work on their career retrospective box set. Joe Strummer died years earlier, but it is interesting to hear the remaining members talk about unexpected influences, including Strummer’s emulation of Bruce Springsteen’s stage presence and work ethic. This name comes up later in a less laudatory way when Bob Geldof tells the author about a gibe he aimed at Springsteen during a New York City gig. Geldof is convinced it ruined the Boomtown Rats’ chances for success in the States. “Slagging Springsteen in America is like slagging God.” Geldof and his band were never forgiven, he says, Live Aid or not.

In spite of the constant party atmosphere, the stories Allan Jones tells are related to his work. He started with Melody Maker in 1974; a decade later he was its editor. In 1998, Jones launched the magazine Uncut, where music was not the only focus. Representing this era are encounters (I hesitate to call them interviews) with directors Oliver Stone and John Carpenter, author Elmore Leonard, and actor Peter Cook. The attitude of these men fit well alongside the print portraits of rockers from the 1970s like Nick Lowe and Captain Sensible.

I learned a lot from Too Late to Stop Now. It also made me realize how little music I own by some of the bands praised in these pages — groups like the Damned and the Specials. Jones readily concedes that (for various reasons) some had little impact in America. I was glad to have Allan Jones tell me about them. The author’s ability to take me to the sites of an under-documented part of the 1970s and ’80s British music scene made this book historically useful. Plus, it’s a fun, fast read!

Tom Wilmeth

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