Review: Daisy Jones & the Six

OMG, I loved this book! What a perfect summer escape—the “guilty” pleasure that isn’t guilty at all, purely pleasure!

Daisy Jones & the Six seems like such a simple story, about the rise and fall of the 1970s’ most famous fictional rock-and-roll band. Not particularly original—one we’ve perhaps read many times. (Spoiler: We haven’t. Not like this.)

And it combines two of my favorite things: great storytelling and classic rock and roll. It’s also nostalgic, faithfully recalling those magical years when I was youthful and unencumbered and every event, great and small, played out to a rock-and-roll soundtrack.

In fact, I could swear I grew up listening to this band. They were one of my favorite bands and I still have their albums, plus the replacement CDs because I wore out the albums. Right?

Daisy is high and fun and carefree and a good time. If she’s having fun, you’re having fun. But if you want to rip people’s hearts out of their chests, bring Daisy back down to earth and have her sing her own songs. There’s nothing like it.

When I finished this book, it physically hurt that I could not play this band’s phenomenal music. I NEEDED to hear the songs that chronicled this mesmerizing journey. Yet, aside from the complete set of lyrics provided at the end of the book, they Do. Not. Exist.

What a devious, deliciously wicked, and talented author, to forge within my heart such an emotionally compelling connection with fabricated characters through their pretend music, to create an unquenchable craving for beloved tracks on imaginary albums.

So if an addictive rendezvous with fictional rock and roll sensations sounds enticing, I’d love to tell you more...

If you get to be my age and you can’t look back at your life and wonder about some of your choices…well, you have no imagination.

Daisy Jones & the Six tells the inside story of the band it’s named for. It starts shortly before a rising band of six rockers—imaginatively called The Six, as if charismatic, controlling lead singer/songwriter Billy Dunne isn’t in charge—is thrown together to collaborate on an album with the aspiring, unknown, and enigmatic singer/songwriter Daisy Jones.

And in about two minutes of singing, Daisy pulled the tablecloth from under the dishes.

It’s a tumultuous partnership that shakes up the power dynamics of the band. Musical and emotional boundaries are challenged and broadened, the artists alternate between their best and worst selves, and the resulting album propels them to stardom. Then they break up. (Not a spoiler. It’s on the first page.)

When someone’s presence gives you energy, when it riles up something in you—the way Daisy did for me—you can turn that energy into lust or love or hate. I felt most comfortable hating her.

***
I am not a muse. I am the somebody. End of fucking story.

The story is told as an oral retrospective, in the voices of all seven band members and supporting characters, as answers to questions asked off page by a journalist. Instead of chapters, it is organized around the high points in the band’s history (things like albums, tours, and performances). I was a bit put off by the interview format at first, but in no time at all the characters became “real people” and I could easily follow the narrative flow of their contributions to the story.

Inside scoop on band shenanigans,
stellar soundtrack,
but THIS IS NOT THEIR STORY!

The band members comprise an interesting mix of personalities, lifestyles, and goals. I loved that the different points of view provide multiple perspectives into their relationships with each other. The result is a well rounded complexity that we wouldn’t get if fewer characters were reminiscing. (That would have been an entirely different and far less compelling story.) The contrasting and sometimes contradictory perspectives provide a richer understanding of what everyone said and did, offset tense situations with comic relief, and occasionally reveal insights about those who are too wrapped up in themselves to see clearly.

But one of the reasons this book is so effective is that these characters are not content to lie to themselves for long. Their art demands honesty. They peel away their delusions layer by layer and song by song.

It is what I have always loved about music. Not the sounds or the crowds or the good times as much as the words—the emotions, and the stories, the truth—that you can let flow right out of your mouth. Music can dig, you know? It can take a shovel to your chest and just start digging until it hits something.

This book flew by for me. I wish it had gone on and on. But that also would have been a different story, and this one is too good to change. It will break your heart in ways that hurt so bad and so good. But it isn’t a sad story. It guts you, then leaves you dazzled by the power of love.

The ending left me amazed. All I could do was stare and say NO WAY. Out loud. With a big smile. (Tears, too, for Wenches keeping score, ha ha. So many books I’ve read this year leave me crying, but all for such marvelously different feelings!) I just love it when books take me by surprise on the last page. And the more I reflect upon that ending, the more I admire its perfection.

Superb songwriting, captivating chemistry,
but a thousand thanks that THIS IS NOT THEIR STORY! [Source]

I keep marveling at the amount of nuance and emotional complexity that was carefully crafted into this deceptively straightforward story, with its minimalist formatting. It’s a rock opera about loving the very thing that you can’t have, needing that which will destroy you. Not sex and drugs and rock and roll; those things are certainly abundant, but refreshingly, they don’t highjack the story. It’s more a raw, intimate portrait of the creative and destructive forces of artistic passion, and soulmates, and trust, and love.

Passion is...it’s fire. And fire is great, man. But we’re made of water. Water is how we keep living. Water is what we need to survive.

***
I’m saying that when you really love someone, sometimes the things they need may hurt you, and some people are worth hurting for.

All this resonated more deeply with me because of the musical elements. I strongly associate my feelings during times and events in my life with the music I’m listening to. Even decades later, hearing that music again can overwhelm me with those feelings. The way that Daisy Jones & the Six ties the emotional struggles of the characters to the songs that the band writes made their story incredibly powerful for me. My reading experience was filtered through my “musical memory circuits”, causing my feelings about the music to become conflated with the characters’ feelings, which drew me further into the story.

Which is what we all want from art, isn’t it? When someone pins down something that feels like it lives inside us? Takes a piece of your heart out and shows it to you? It’s like they are introducing you to a part of yourself.

Right after I picked up the book, I heard it was inspired by gossip about Fleetwood Mac’s tempestuous interpersonal dynamics—aka affairs and rivalries—when they released the aptly named Rumours in 1977. But DJ&TS is NOT Fleetwood Mac. I keep saying, this is not that story you think you’ve read, seen, heard, or watched a thousand times. It’s not A Star Is Born, either. I kept expecting it to be, but it’s not. (Thankfully, since we already have four movie versions and they never end the way I want them to.) It does have a lot of the elements I liked about the movie Almost Famous, but with more compelling lead singers and no comparison with where the story ends up.

Bitchin’ band, riveting romantic rumors,
but THIS IS STILL NOT THEIR STORY! [Source]

This book happened so fast that I want to reread it soon. I’m planning to listen to the audio version, with an ensemble cast reading the different voices. I hear great things about it. But most of all, I wish there were a soundtrack! It would be my favorite album of the year.

Songs are about how it felt, not the facts. Self-expression is about what it feels to live, not whether you had the right to claim any emotion at the time.

This Wench rates Daisy Jones & the Six: