KEITH EMERSON - Pictures Of An Exhibition

KEITH EMERSON - Pictures Of An Exhibitionist

Reviewed by Hugues Chantraine

Keith’s memoirs are sure as hell aptly titled and unashamedly so. It was always evident that Emerson had an over-dimensioned ego that only his colleague Greg Lake was able to match, but this book is flabbergasting in openness and narcissism.

Emerson’s writing style is a rather odd and clumsy telling of his adventures  - some are hilarious, others are rather appalling (how could anyone open his sordid thoughts to readers) others would demand confirmation from the others involved. It took me incredible drive to get through the first four chapters of his book, before I started feeling more at ease with his writing style, but I suspect that it did get easier because he started talking about The Nice and the subject actually interested me quite a bit. Actually the book gets interesting because of the many funny touring incidents and twisted On-The-Road tales until their album BSS. We get all of the sordid details such as how many times Emo had the clap from accepting favours from groupies, how they blew other groups from the stage, etc. But the real embarrassing stuff, he passes under silence: Emo (as he likes to call himself in his book) once did a twenty minute solo with his Hammond organ and when Palmer was so furious at this lengthy indulgence, he sent an ultimatum to have it “stop or else he would quit” through Lake’s roadie, but once the roadie got to the tilted organ, he saw Emerson yelling at him to finally help him lift the bloody instrument as he could not do it himself for his belt buckle had been caught right from the start as he had tipped the Hammond, so he was completely unable to straighten it up again with nobody aware of the problem. No you will not read that in here!!!

I was quite pleased to read about David O’List and Emerson spends a good deal talking about him in a very open and correct manner. One always thought that he got sacked for ego reasons, but such was not the case. Most of the ego problems he had in The Nice were with his singing bassist Lee Jackson, who was a sharp dresser, a lady’s man, correct bassist but awful singer.

One has a feeling that outside Emo’s ego, he is an individual that gasps for attention/spotlight (both his bassists were also attention grabbers too and he was often at odds with them) , good or bad – although he prefers good as he is still sick of Bernstein’s attitude towards him – but one gets a feeling that a good deal of the book is aimed at sniping towards Greg Lake - which was the prime reason I bought the book, hoping he would dig the dirt. It is a wonder how those two got along right from the first meeting onwards. Many shots are fired but none were lethal or below the belt, but we can be sure Lake will be writing his own book soon just to get a few things straight. Sounds like a good soap opera starting up.

I must say that the book started to bore me as the story moves on with their decline from the Works until Love Beach albums – the book stops at that period and we will not know anything (or one page’s worth) of the 80’s or 90’s reformations. I must say I was fairly glad it did stop then, for Emo’s writing style had gotten the best of me, and I am not sure I would’ve read it at all. I am not so sure Emerson gained anything by writing this book, as the saying goes: better be thought bad of, than open your mouth and prove it. For absolute fans not fearing to lose respect for their hero. I only got confirmation of what I had already suspected.