Bez - Freaky Dancing (Pan) If you want to read about music and about a particular rave scene, the Mancunian one from the point of view of someone who was on the stage, entertaining the E-heads smiling and hugging each other on the wings of a dove, then this is your kinda book. Mark "Bez" Berry, the Happy Mondays' fandangle in the disguise of a maraca man tells us his story from his happy and rather normal childhood through his difficult adolescence made of jail, hippy like travels through Greece, Spain and Morocco, up to his final and legendary meeting with X, AKA Shaun Ryder, the Mondays' voice. From a first casual gig shaking maracas and tripping on acid, Bez is fully integrated to official member of the band. The travel through stardom is then an apparently easy one, but it is always studded with ganga, acid, heroin, cocaine and finally eckies, those "little fellas" who stole the scene in Manchester. Fundamental are the parts regarding The Haçienda, with its pillars painted in hazard stripes and traffic bollards. Here the reader can get more than a simple glimpse of the Factory stars New Order, while meeting Bernard Sumner and seeing just a glimpse of Hooky. Between a gig in New York, one in Manchester, a trip to Ibiza, a mega festival in Brazil and the final disastrous adventure in the Carribean, the book ends up having the same ups and downs given by drugs, with some interestingly intriguing chapters and some flat ones, shorter if compared to the pluri-detailed chapters of the beginning. Anyway, don't blame Bez for any imprecision, he was probably too stoned to allow his mind to record every detail and to take any precise note of the numberless gigs held by the Mondays. Take this book as the story of "the first guitar group that the new youth can relate to", as Paul Oakenfold dubbed them, a story which ironically ends with Ryder coded message to the Emi suits "I'm going for a Kentucky", never to come back. The Happy Mondays split and recently reunited, leaving a mark on the generation who popped thousands of pills since "it took the monotony out of bein on the dole or sinkin under the pressure of tryin to cope on criminally low wages in a desperate bid to maintain dignity". They were the "24 hour party people plastic face can't smile white out", they left us, but they left us high on pills, surely thrilled and occasionally bellyached.