Mark Latham. A name it seems all are trying to forget, but why? The man worked his way from humble roadie to become the ALP's lead singer and songwriter.  He flirted with the top of the charts before crashing into a protected Tassy pine and burning up a pancreatic fever that briefly woke a proud nation from its apolitical January slumber. This is a story worth hearing from the inside.

Part boofhead, part possum-in the headlights, they never used to make them like this and definitely won't start now. In these 400-odd pages you can gloriously succumb to a revisitation of Keating's metal shredding, the rise of Howard's crickled-crooning-seduction, and Latham's own flirtation with leadership schizophrenia.

There's the push and pull behind the songwriting. The goss on who slept with who and who suffered factional impotence. Learn how it feels when the middle band fucks with the settings after you've turned up early for a soundcheck. And enjoy some glib comment on the evolving relationships between modern rock, the media and talkback radio. Two humbuckers out of three for this, whilst confessing I'm yet to read any of the multitude of bios on our once-proud star.

Hot quote: "The media honeymoon is over. The tory establishment is out to get me".



The Latham Diaries: borrow it off your girlfriend's dad before he realises you're a no-good dirty rotten son of a.