Review: From Bonham to Buddha and Back Again by Clementine Moss

The rare kind of memoir that makes one forget it’s not a novel, From Bonham to Buddha and Back Again: The Slow Enlightenment of the Hard Rock Drummer by Clementine Moss is an exhilarating and enlightening read.

Slowly revealing the autobiographical puzzle of her own music-infused life, from wild leaps to NYC, meditative mountain retreats, and early romance over drum kits to cross-country tours, sleepless benders, and bittersweet final shows, this book is laced with reckless adventure. Taking readers backstage in every sense of the word, the prose lays everything on the table – beliefs, passions, secrets, dreams, and the messy art of collaboration.

There are few obvious points of relativity between Buddhist monks and hard-rock drummers, yet in this reflective and frequently profound account, those two identities are woven into one complex and engaging figure. As both the narrator and protagonist, Moss seems to live in memories even as a wiser version of herself dissects them, giving the entire reading experience a metaphysical, voyeuristic, and intimate flavor.

As the author muses in the memoir’s opening pages, “Maybe the unexamined life is indeed an easier way of living,” but as the rest of the book proves, that is not her destiny. With her deeply introspective yet lyrical approach to storytelling, the prose dips between tangential asides, seemingly to herself or the gods of song, with brilliant insight woven into this cacophony of language and memory. There are embedded love letters to music and spirituality, homages to profound artists who have embarked on similar journeys into the unknown, and invitations to dig deeper into the sensorial experiences our brief lives lay before us.

The casual juxtapositions of poetry from Rilke and close reads of Zeppelin song structure are unlike other memoirs, reminiscent of Pirsig’s motorcycle masterpiece of Zen wisdom, and reaching that vaunted level. Whether she is narrating the manifestation of grief in the middle of “Whole Lotta Love” or waxing poetic about time, sound, eternity, and meaning, this is a writer with a singular voice, one that feels made for both improvisational philosophy and the play-by-play dictation of her own drum solos. As a member of an all-female Led Zeppelin cover band, the thematic explorations extend into the boys’ club mentality of rock ‘n’ roll, the exhausting nature of rootless existence, the power of honest communication, sisterly devotion, and the persistent hunt for freedom.

At times post-modern in its execution and format, the author seems unconcerned with narrative structure or a clear storyline, anecdotal as most chapters are. She is far more focused on the rhythm of language and the energy she can create with descriptions and the pacing of a scene, like any good drummer who understands the inherent leadership of their performance. With the upfront feel of a road novel, but the carefully crafted message of a manifesto, there are few areas for critique here, as every syncopated moment of writing feels intentionally placed.

Boasting some of the most passionate diatribes about percussion ever put to paper, and the tone of an electrified guru, this is one of the most original memoirs you will ever read.