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But what is missing here is something rather important for a biography -- in fact, for any book. It's something called "heart."

Havens and Davidowitz have done a triple bypass here. There's extensive discussion of recording contracts and the big hits and the million-record sales and the folk scene in Greenwich Village and some thoughts about drugs and corporate finance and the plight of blacks in a white-run world. But there's not a word about what goes on in the soul of a man who, after all, left a world of abysmal poverty behind -- was able to haul himself up by himself, out of the morass, make an apparent success of his life.

They can't hide us anymore By Richie Havens (with Steve Davidowitz) Foreward by James Earl Jones Spike Nonfiction 352 PAGES

From time to time, he tries to give us some insight into his thoughts. For instance, he says that he once wrote a book that was never published, on "unconsidered little things." Like? "The very minute Western civilization created Santa Claus it also created no Santa Claus. No Santa Claus can be experienced hurtfully by some people while no one is paying attention ... Class distinctions take root through such unconsidered little things." Eh?

We suspect that Havens is not a bad sort. His politics seem to be caring and, after all, one who sings about our "selling guns to the Arabs and dynamite to the Jews" has something going on besides famous friends and golden record sales.

The title of the book is "They Can't Hide Us Anymore," but our read on this is that, for unknown reasons, the real Richie Havens has been carefully buried back there somewhere behind the grandstand.
salon.com | Sept. 13, 1999

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