If Steven Tyler didn't exist, rock'n'roll would have to invent him. The whirling dervish Aerosmith singer is the distilled essence of sex and drugs and rock'n'roll, from the tip of his stack heeled boots to the top of his haystack mane. He's the Screamin' Demon with the lecherous cackle, the Keef-style appetites and the swagger-jagger charisma that money just can't buy. And boy, he ain't bluffing. He's lived the life for nearly 40 years and now he's telling it like it was, is and - as he freely admits - probably always will be. If Tyler is the essence of rock, "Does The Noise In My Head Bother You?" is the essence of Steven Tyler.
Reading this book is like cracking open the top of Tyler's head and peering inside. It's like an explosion in a fireworks factory in there. Thoughts cartwheel off in all directions, stories rocket around and explode in a blaze of colour and everything happens at once. You'll find yourself going back to re-read bits because he flies off on so many tangents that you sometimes won't have a clue - not one single clue - what he's going on about. But as the man himself says, "Chronology? Fuggedaboutit!" You'll also find yourself coming up for air from time to time just to get a break from the sheer....well, Tylerness of it all, because both the subject matter (sex, drugs, drugs, rock'n'roll, sex and drugs, in roughly that order) and the hyperventilating prose style (he writes as he speaks) can be a bit overwhelming if taken in Tyler-sized doses.
But we learn a lot: his early life and musical influences, his 40-year love-hate relationship with his 'brother' Joe Perry, the insanity of life on the road, the $20 million that disappeared up his nose, the path strewn with walking wounded and his regrets about being a bad husband and father.
But you know what? As he unrepentantly surveys the train-wreck of his life, you're still rooting for him.