Then enter the true villain of our story, a many-headed monster called the music industry that thinks nothing of chewing up and spitting out the male bands that make up the mass of rock groups but has something special in mind for the rare all-female combo. First the rough edges of The Bangles' music were systematically smoothed away. Then their naturally kooky and retro style was slathered with glammed-out makeup and hairspray.
Worst of all, the fierce and organic playing that made their live performances and early records so electrifying was sidelined for session-man perfection, and their strong in-house writing was passed over for the songs of professionals. When one of those professionals is Prince, you can't really complain, and none of The Bangles have a bad word to say about him (who had a tendency to show up at their shows uninvited and jump on stage with his guitar to shred his purple ass off) or "Manic Monday", but some of the other material that was foisted on them didn't sit right.
But let's not forget that the media plays a decisive role in the music industry, and its fixation on The Bangles gender and looks, particularly those of Hoffs, was also demeaning and drove a wedge down the middle of a band that once prided themselves on their fab-four equality.
The irony of The Bangles' story is that the more artistic hurdles they faced, the more successful they became. While the group's early records were the best, full of terrific songs, fiery playing, and the glorious harmonies that were their trademark, the ones that watered down the band's approach sported the biggest hits. The media may have dismissed The Bangles as a novelty act who didn't play their own instruments (as if the Powers That Be at Columbia Records gave them a choice), but fans ate them up. And if "Walk Like an Egyptian" and "Eternal Flame" weren't quite as thrilling as "The Real World" and "Hero Takes a Fall", their ubiquity inspired a new generation of girls to pick up guitars and give it a go, the fruits of which helped turn the nineties into a golden age of women rock and rollers.
So although frustration sits at the heart of Jennifer Otter Bickerdike's new book Eternal Flame: The Authorized Biography of The Bangles, it is not without its happy outcomes, which help make it such a compelling read. The Bangles' story is one of conflicts and obnoxious obstacles, but it is also one of mad success, a fair share of fun, and a lot of great music (look, even something as processed as "Walk Like an Egyptian" is a pretty neat song).
The participation of all four original Bangles keeps the speculation low. The only hold-out was second bassist Michael Steele, whose reserved personality suggests that she might not have been the most forthcoming participant had she agreed to get involved, but who is strikingly honest in the comments culled from other sources, so who knows? As for the new memories Bickerdike recorded, they can be conflictingm, and the Petersons clearly still feel the sting from having their music taken from them and seeing how Hoffs traveled her own star-studded path, but everyone remains pretty diplomatic. Hoffs maintains her usual cool stance. Rather than ever coming off as ruthlessly ambitious, which is how her bandmates often portray her, she discusses her career as if she merely went with the flow, happy to be successful in an entertainment industry eager to welcome her, yet unapologetic about the choices she made.
The women in The Bangles seem to have eventually made peace with each other, and I hope that the honesty on display in Eternal Flame the book doesn't dismantle that. But I'm glad that we fans also don't get a version of The Bangles as watered down as the one that made "Eternal Flame" the song. Bickerdike's book is more worthy of the no-bullshit rockers that The Bangles were when outside forces weren't conspiring to package, sell, and dismantle them. It's more like "The Real World".
