Hard Rock

Hard Rock, by Jay Lawrence
May, 1968  Dominion Publishing

I picked this one up several years ago in the hope that, despite being published by a sleaze imprint, it might still be a decent rock novel. Like a fool I figured maybe I could read the novel for the characters, the story, and a peek inside the late ‘60s hard rock scene. But of course the book turns out to be nothing but endless screwing, with the “rock stuff” only used as a framework to deliver more endless screwing. It was interesting though to see that a book published so early in ’68 already seemed to understand the difference between basic rock and hard rock, though unfortunately the author is unwilling – or unable due to publisher demands – to much elaborate on it.

No idea who Jay Lawrence was, but I’m assuming it was a house name. There’s nothing fancy in the writing department about Hard Rock and this isn’t one of those sleaze novels that’s actually a good read, ie one written by a slumming author who tried to turn out an entertaining yarn despite the demand for copious adult situations. There’s no story, the characters are ciphers with unbridled libidos, and the writing style is meat and potatoes blunt. (Actually I should employ a more “adult” term than “meat and potatos,” but you get my drift.) The book’s just a little over 150 pages with big print, every chapter detailing a sex scene with some new insatiable babe the “hero” encounters, and every once in a while we’ll get some minor rock stuff, like that he’s recording a new album or somesuch.

I put hero in quotes above because Hard Rock appears to be the sleaze version of a morality tale; “Sex made him an idol and ruined him,” proclaims the cover, and that basically summarizes the entire plot. We meet protagonist Bobby Linger as he’s playing guitar and singing somewhere in the south, flashing back to a moment two years before when he was picked up by a pair of swingers. This is straight out of the gate and lets us know what we’re in for – pure sleaze with no chaser. Bobby’s eyed by the stacked wife of some drunk southerner, and soon enough he’s back in their motel room vigorously screwing the wife while the husband clutches his “small stiffness” and watches. It gets even more outrageous from there. Curiously though hardly any profanity is used in the book; about the most we get is “breasts” for the female anatomy, otherwise Lawrence sticks to metaphorical or descriptive phrases.

Well that was two years ago and now Bobby, 21, is singing and playing and hoping for stardom. We’re told he’s tall with longish blond hair, and supposedly looks like a rock star mixed with an all-American youth or somesuch, given his athletic build. More importantly so far as the novel goes, he’s massively endowed. And also he’s driven by such unhinged lust that even the typical Harold Robbins protagonist would consider him a little too horny. But it’s hard not to get lucky over and over again when every single woman introduced into the text wants to have sex with you, and the sooner the better. As ever I got more of a creepy vibe from the book than anything else; everytime a female character is introduced we get at least a page describing her ample anatomy, down to the view provided by her hiked up mini-skirt. Sex is the end-all, be-all of existence, the only thing that makes anyone tick, like Freud taken to preposterous lengths – okay I’m reaching here because the novel’s too dumb for this sort of analysis.

So Bobby wants to be a star and here he is plying his trade in the South. The songs Bobby plays, how he learned to play guitar, his history, where he came from – absolutely none of it is elaborated upon. But boy do we learn about his countless conquests. The sole exception to the “bang ‘em immediately after meeting ‘em” rule is Toni, a mega-hot blonde babe Bobby spots on the beach one day. Only, there’s something familiar about her. She’s a former singer herself, one who was on the cusp of fame before she mysteriously dropped out of the spotlight. We get a few mentions that she had an “accident” and now her voice has a slightly hoarse quality, and again like a fool I figured this would eventually be explained in the text. But nope. The bigger focus is that Toni is now a lesbian, and manages acts with her partner, equally sexy redhead Marie. So anyway Toni’s been watching Bobby here on the beach, is familiar with him from his few concerts, and offers to manage him. The only catch of course is that he will never, but ever, have sex with her. Or with Marie.

The two women quickly determine that Bobby excels at “hard driving rock,” but again absolutely no description of the style is given. Then they hook him up with an all-girl backing band, figuring the novelty factor will appeal to male fans and the sight of Bobby surrounded by three sexy girls will appeal to female fans. Or something. Because folks believe it or not, the female band members aren’t even named and the author inexplicably never delivers a scene where Bobby gets friendly with any of them, let alone all three at once. This was such a bizarre miss that I figured the author was afraid that if he did name the female group members, it would mean he’d have to write more “rock stuff,” thus he kept them nameless and off-page.

Not that Bobby has to go celibate, as he does more than well for himself. From a Eurasian hooker with acrobatic skills to the never-ending sprawl of women he meets after each show – Bobby turning Toni into his pimp as revenge for not letting him have sex with her – Bobby gets lucky again and again and again. And as ever there’s absolutely nothing erotic about any of it, just pages of enthusiastic banging with no emotional or dramatic or even plot-based thrust. But back in those pre-internet porn days guys had to take what they could get, so I doubt too many readers cared.

Now we’ve got the makings of a sort of plot: Bobby has fallen in love with Toni, but “bitch” Marie runs roughshod over him, making him practice and stay focused before shows. There’s a part where he performs some, uh, oral explorations upon Toni, who immediately thereafter runs away and begs Bobby not to tell Marie. Then it’s like the author said “to hell with this” because we have an out of nowhere part where Marie comes to Bobby one night…and has sex with him! And now she’s basically like his secret girlfriend, the two keeping it a secret…until Toni finds out about it…after which the author once again denies reader expectation by not delivering an immediate three-way. Instead the expected orgy is perennially put off for one reason or another…the girls are tired from a long day “handling business,” or Bobby’s worn out from recording his latest album…or whatever. 

And yes, Bobby records albums, meaning in the plural, but we don’t get one word about any of them. We do however get a little info on at least the business end of the rock world: Toni and Marie set up an arrangement with a bigtime showbiz promoter named Carson, who is geared to put Bobby on the fast-track to superstardom. We’re already informed of the “Bobby Linder craze” and whatnot, people apparently going crazy for his “hard-driving rock” style. But immediately after this we get back to the main focus of the book: unerotic, sleazy sex. Bobby hooks up with an old flame with swinging inclinations and he brings Marie along to a party she’s throwing. Soon enough Bobby’s doing some broad and Marie’s going down on another, eventually finding herself the centerpiece of an orgy. Next morning, looking at her haggard, worn features, Bobby wonders if he’s maybe gone a little too far with Marie.

Meanwhile there are bigger issues – earlier in the book Bobby scored with a couple gals who were into whipping and the like. Well, they secretly filmed it, and now Bobby’s being blackmailed, with the threat of releasing the kinky hardcore footage. The main threat here is that the two babes in question look slightly like Toni and Marie, so the blackmailers want the world to think Bobby Linger’s in a twisted relationship with his two female managers. Today he’d score a reality TV series, but in 1968 this was bad news, so Toni, Marie, and Carson go through the process of “carving up” Bobby’s contract to pay the million bucks the blackmailers want for the footage.

Because at this point Marie and Toni are disgusted with Bobby and hate him. I mean they’ve known from the very beginning of the book that he’s a sex-mad freak, but I guess Marie’s orgy tribulations and watching that bondage video really opened their eyes. But no fear, because they show him their true feelings in a manner suitable for a sleaze paperback: they double-team him in explicit detail. Both drugged out of their minds, they wake Bobby that night and proceed to thrust themselves upon him. Over and over, until he’s passed out from exhaustion and misery. Next morning he finds this note, which made me chuckle:

“Dear Pig,” [Bobby] read. “We’re through. You’ve had us in every way possible now, and there’s just nothing more to be had. We’ll probably see you in hell, but until then here’s hoping you go on making your own without involving us in it.”

Because as mentioned this is a sleaze morality tale, and Bobby’s the villain now due his comeuppance. He discovers that the two girls are gone, never to return, and Carson’s his new manager. And a demanding manager at that. From here Lawrence skips through months (and years?) in mere sentences – we’re told Bobby releases a few more albums, but all of them tank, and he’s already being chalked off as a fad. By novel’s end Carson’s forcing him to please some old rich lady who might be willing to finance more albums, but instead Bobby ends up taking the virginity of Carson’s hotstuff daughter! The finale is incredibly bizarre and comes off like the author stabbing from hell’s heart at his perverted readers: Bobby is reduced to becoming the latest plaything of the old rich lady, being led around on a leash and whipped like a dog!

And that’s all she wrote, folks. This isn’t a “rock novel” in the least, so if you ever come across it and are hoping you’ve found another Death Rock, be forewarned. Its interest mostly lies in how it can make sex seem so sleazy, depraved, and grotesque, but this seems to be the forte of most sleaze paperbacks, a la Flowers And Flesh.