Will Birch – Ian Dury, The Definitive Biography

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Ian Robins Dury was always partial to a bit of self-mythologising. So were he still around to witness it, he would undoubtedly be well chuffed at the current rash of Dury-related offerings. Principal among these is of course the Andy Serkis-fronted film of his life “Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll”, but also newly published comes this biography, by Will Birch, himself a participant in the London pub-rock scene of the ‘70s, as a member of The Kursaal Flyers.

As is often the case with biographies, this is strongest and most interesting on Dury’s early years. And quite a story it is too: the stark and shocking trick of random fate that left him infected with the polio virus at the age of 8, bedbound for months and then disabled for the rest of his life is vividly brought home, in what is probably the book’s most dramatic moment.

Dury emerges from his childhood and family background as a more ambivalent character than his “stage persona” might lead one to assume. Constantly divided between his “posh” Mother and Aunt and his more working class and “one of the lads” Dad as he “veered giddily between working class and middle class”; his time at a pretty brutal boarding school for invalided boys was where he first developed his hard, tough, cockney image - undoubtedly as a tool of self-preservation. Stories from this time are hair-raising, by today’s educational and health-care standards, and it seems pretty evident that many of his later rough edges and unpleasant characteristics were incubated by the regime, as we see potentially-bullied turn into the bully.

As the tale of his teenage years (Gene Vincent-worshipping, Grammar School-attending) and beyond progresses, interesting snippets of information are related. I never knew, for example, that the artist Peter Blake played such a large and significant part in Dury’s life (as his mentor at art college) – and it is nice to see Blake’s picture of Dury used as the cover illustration of the book for this reason. Also interesting are the range of musicians and music-biz types that he crosses paths (and often swords) with, even pre-fame: from Charlie Watts to Malcolm McLaren and Glen Matlock, The Who and Nick Lowe.

As Dury slowly, painstakingly, achieves fame and notoriety (with as many setbacks as breakthroughs along the way, first with Kilburn and the High Roads, then the rebranded Ian Dury and the Kilburns, before The Blockheads finally emerge) it is clear that this complicated, driven character is charismatic but also, frankly, pretty much of a bastard. Those who knew him describe him, variously, to the author as an “argumentative cunt”, “a unique and compelling character” and “the best personal manipulator I’ve ever met”. His treatment of first wife Betty and their two kids is not very edifying (the scene where he – briefly – deigns to break off from band practice while she gives birth to their first child, then calmly carries on again soon after is quite a shocker). The threats of violence (“Ian threatened to break my legs”) used in an attempt to extort money from Kilburns’ Keith Lucas after the band split are also pretty unpleasant, although we are told that this was one of the moments that haunted his conscience for decades after.

So, definitely not a hagiography, then – although with someone like Ian Dury that would have been hard if not impossible to achieve. Nevertheless this is an interesting, unsentimental read about one of British music’s most distinctive “characters”, taking you with him on his bumpy journey through life, whether or not you are a huge fan of his music.