Dancing in the Darkness'Dancing in the Darkness' is an engrossing autobiography that often finds itself at odds with the established shibboleths of writing such a work. Frankie Poullain, aided by his Polish Cleaner-cum-therapist, sets out to write a self-help book drawing from his experiences and mistakes.
What you get is a refreshingly honest, warm, self-depticating, quirky and humorous jaunt through Poullain's unconventional first 41 years, predictably with mouth-aghast tales of rock'n'roll excess, and less so the truths and philosophies conveyed, often apologetically, that elevate it above most accounts of its kind. The chapter 'How To Lose Sight of Yourself' in particular is moving in its wisdom.
As well as possessing insight, sharpened by the awkwardness the author undoubtedly feels, he is able to spectate when others are consumed, hitch along for the ride rather than be the driver (unless popping to the shop for an Indian takeaway). Frankie is perfectly placed to analyse the trappings and pitfalls of being in a multi-platinum shifting International rock outfit, always as an outsider; the force behind the book somehow manages to be centrafugal and centrapetal at the same time.
Poullain has a keen sense of the absurd, complimented by the many illustrations that accompany the text, and he himself is only too aware of the absurdity of a bookish and sentitive type like himself ending up in a band like the Darkness. The book is therefore deliberately littered with contradictions and oxymorons.
The meteoric rise and equally seismic collapse of Britain's biggest band circa 2003 was always going to be a good story, but in Poullain's hands it becomes a quite different beast to maybe the one you expected. If there's a criticism,'Dancing in the Darkness' is too short, though it does mean there's less time to spend worrying if there's going to be a happy ending or not.