Fragments from the Underground: On Ali Smith’s Memoir

The Ballad of Speedbaby by Ali Smith

A woman approaches bassist Ali Smith at the end of one of her shows and says, “It makes me so happy to see a girl up there on stage. Because you know… it’s a man’s world!” Smith finishes her memoir with this story, which sums up the whole book: she sets herself up to deliver a feminist perspective of life in the punk underground, but unfortunately, the only thing she has to share is that it’s hard to be a woman.

The Ballad of Speedball Baby recounts Smith’s time as a bass player in a 1990s punk band as she navigates the notoriously seedy underground New York City music scene. Her stories centre her experience as one of few women in situations ranging from chaotic to downright terrifying.

The problem with this book is that it lacks the growth or narrative payoff essential to a memoir. Smith draws us in with blood, addiction, violence, and harrowing stories, but she leaves us hanging. You don’t see her evolve or change, aside from a brief glimpse into her adult life at the start of the book. We also learn little about Smith herself or the world she’s living in. There are no answers to questions around what she learned about herself or whether it’s worth it for women to stick it out in environments that actively reject them.

She presents the book as a feminist account of her experience in a male-dominated world, but the takeaways are shallow. It’s hardly groundbreaking to observe that it’s difficult for women to flourish in a hardcore rock-and-roll environment surrounded by drugs, violence, and various flavours of misogyny.

Rather than a memoir, the book is at its best when viewed as a collection of essays or vignettes. You can see this in her story about crossing the Croatian border while touring Europe. Speedball Baby gets to Croatia two years after the devastating war of independence in the 1990s. She describes being strip searched at the border and convincing officials she’s not smuggling contraband in a tampon box — all while her bandmate is held for questioning over his various health supplements. In the details of the story, we see both the tension of the broader political climate and the fact that, as a band, they’re a group of kids way out of their depth.

Also a talented photographer, Smith can clearly capture a moment in time. It’s just in bringing all these moments together to form a cohesive story that this memoir falls short.

It’s hard to critique the stories of someone’s life, especially one fraught with so much difficulty. However, this book is sold as a contribution to feminist discourse yet does little to drive the conversation forward. Smith would have done well to do a bit more reflecting — or change course altogether — before writing it.

This review was written by book club member, Anna Meehan. When Anna’s not pretending to be a book critic, she works in Content Marketing in London. Her passions include feminism, reality tv, and the correct use of commas. She’s also willing to read pretty much anything with a strong female character.

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