Receiving an email from someone you practically worship isn’t something you think will happen. This is what happened when I received an email from Legs McNeil, thanking me for mentioning his book. Legs McNeil: he named my favourite genre of music; he asked Patti Smith what her favourite type of hamburger was; and he pieced together Please Kill Me: The Complete Oral History of Punk, my favourite book. A once in a lifetime chance I knew wouldn’t be repeated. So I did the only thing a star struck fan could do, I asked for an interview.

You’ve just finished The Other Hollywood, The Uncensored Oral History of the Porn Film Industry, can you tell us about it?
It’s the story of the porn film industry in the United States from the 1950’s-1990’s that concentrates on the organised crime involvement, beginnings of the industry, and as the book progresses, how living within such a loose moral compass tends to cause people to step out of line. That interested me, since I’m fascinated with why people are so fucked up.

What was the biggest obstacle to overcome when writing The Other Hollywood – The Uncensored Oral History of the Porn Film Industry?
Deciding what to put in and what to leave out. When you do an oral history like this you’re basically living in the book for a long time, it becomes second nature to leave most of the stuff out. The most important thing is to show the humanity of any given story, so that it reads like real life. I was trying to get people to remember in an honest way, and translate that to words, in the best way I possibly can. Sometimes words seem so limiting, and then it becomes about evoking shit.

Please Kill Me – The Uncensored Oral History of Punk is constructed perfectly, and runs smoothly. How did you go about constructing this?
You think Please Kill Me is constructed perfectly? Many people don’t. I can tell you everything that is wrong with the book. I doubt that I can tell you everything that is right with it. But that isn’t the point. Since I’m not such a big fan of my own work, I think I can look at it a bit more objectively, let me give you an example of how my brain works: You say PKM is constructed perfectly, well what about Dee Dee Ramone renting an apartment from Debbie Harry and Chris Stein, where he lived with Connie for a while after he got thrown out of Arturo’s? I think it was important. I think Dee Dee is important, as a writer, an artist and performer. I believe Dee Dee wrote Chinese Rocks at that apartment and felt his life would somehow come together. Also, they way Debbie and Chris respected Dee Dee’s talent is important. Dee Dee paying rent and trying to be a human being is important, and, also, that it ended in a big mess is important. How Dee Dee couldn’t sustain himself is important. It makes him a much more three dimensional character and less of a cartoon-character-mess that he promoted. But it’s not in the book, probably because Debbie can’t remember much and Chris Stein was smoking crack when I was trying to interview him.

The week I handed in the final manuscript to the publisher was the same week Chris Stein called me and said, “Okay Legs I’m ready to be interviewed!” Great, now what? The publisher was already pissed at me. I’m working on deadline. So what happens? Dee Dee is lost to history and the story doesn’t go in. What we’ve lost now, is a connection to Dee Dee that might have demystified him somewhat, which I think is very important. Was Dee Dee a genius or a fuck up? Dee he know what he was doing when he wrote Chinese Rocks or I Don’t Wanna Walk Around with You or any of the other hundred great songs he wrote? Where did that come from? I think by including the story of Dee Dee renting the apartment from Chris and Debbie, some of those questions MIGHT have been answered. Would he still come off as a cartoon character? Probably, but it might have given us a closer insight into one of the most talented and weirdest guys in rock & roll, proving that people are much more interesting and damaged than you think. Which is interesting, you have to admit.

So when you pay me a nice compliment and say that Please Kill Me is perfectly constructed, I look back on what I did and say, “Well, no probably not. I would have liked to have tried and solve the problem of Dee Dee, and make him more accessible to me, as a reader.” I would have also liked to done that with The Runaways, The Cramps and Debbie and Chris and Blondie, and Suicide. But at a certain point, you have to say, what am I doing—and put it out. But was I happy doing it that way? No. Remember, this is history, which is a lot bigger than you or me. You’re going to influence people for a long time, and it’s not great if they don’t have all the facts. So it’s a tricky road, and one that you’re destined to fail at, ultimately, but you have to try anyway. I hope that is an answer.

In 1979 you stepped away from the re-shaped punk scene, what have you done since?
Jerking off. A lot.

Well, from what I’d heard you also covered a war or two. Pretty insignificant I suppose.
I covered the war in Belfast and the war in El Salvador, for Spin, when I was a senior editor there. I was supposed to go to the Gulf War for Spin, but it was a two week war, and was over before the magazine had time to come out. I’ve done a lot of magazine writing over my thirty year career. Now I am working on the Joey Ramone bio for Simon & Schuster with Mickey Leigh, Joey’s brother.

Are you disappointed at the direction music media is taking? Do you think it’s possible to resurrect some credibility into it?
There never was any music journalism, except maybe that first great gang of music writers who were trying to get to the core of stuff. Basically music writing was just a re-written press release until Tom Wolfe, Hunter Thompson and those guys decided to break some rules. They gave music writing a soul and took some chances. I still read Fear and Loathing once a year, just to marvel at Hunter’s scalpel precision in his cutting remarks. Did it do Hunter any good? Not really, he still killed himself. Probably because he knew he couldn’t pull it off anymore. Poor guy.

Are you still as interested in music as you were in the seventies?
I actually don’t know anything about music, but I like it. I like all those really Spinal Tap bands where you can just see them lined up, playing their guitars and shaking their long hair. I even like some weeny-rap groups. Anything with slang, I’m a sucker for slang, even when I don’t know what it means.

Can you name five bands/albums that you think everyone should hear?
1. Alice Cooper
2. Patti Smith, Piss Factory
3. I Want Candy, by the chick Malcolm used to manage.  [Editor’s note: Bow Bow Bow] The little girl, that was hot for two minutes back in 1979.
4. I have so many bad songs going through my head.
5. Tie Me Kangaroo Down Sport

Alice Spazzy said that you’re “one of those people that every generation needs, but doesn’t have.” How do you feel when you hear such praise?
I think she’s crazy. No one needs me. I’m an indulgence, not a necessity.

Do you get sick of answering the same questions, over and over again?
Yes, as a matter of fact I do, because since I don’t consider the question to be interesting, I’m afraid my answer will be disappointing, and not very interesting. It’s different now because Q&As have been done to death and are an easy excuse not to write something. Interviews have always been hit or miss, haven’t they? I have a book about the first interviews, there’s one with Al Capone, and you think it’s going to be great, and it’s a snooze fest. So maybe it’s just the form, and whether someone’s on or not when you talk to them. Interesting question though.

Possibly the most important and poignant question I may ever ask, what’s your favourite type of hamburger?
These ones in high school that I think were horse meat, by golly they were great.

Get your hands and eyes onto Legs McNeil’s books now or you’ll be sorry.

Please Kill Me: The Uncensored Oral History of Punk by Legs McNeil (Editor), Gillian McCain (Editor)

The Other Hollywood: The Uncensored Oral History of the Porn Film Industry by Legs McNeil