‘Dandyism is almost as difficult a thing to describe as it is to define’, wrote Barbey in his classic 19th-century text on dandyism. Hawkins opens the first chapter of The British Pop Music Dandy with this quotation (p. 15) and it is an apt beginning for what proves to be a complex and sophisticated treatment of the subject. If one is looking for a cut and dried exposé of dandyism in British popular music – a comprehensive (or obvious) list of dandified figures that have graced its history since the advent of rock and roll, for example, or a fully worked out analysis of such salient figures – one will not find it here. This is not a simplistic account of dandyism in British popular music, nor would we expect such from a seasoned scholar who has contributed so much to the study of popular music and gender. Hawkins' writing about the dandy is as brilliantly elusive as the subject itself: like the dandy, who prefers to flaunt convention, gendered and otherwise, in the name of revolting against it, Hawkins does not follow a straight line in his narrative, preferring not to define too precisely, not to analyse too concretely, to suggest rather than determine, to accrue significations layer by layer, and to leave interpretive doors open rather than close them firmly. In the process, Hawkins not only prods the reader to think through the complexities of the dandy figure in popular music, but to examine the analysis of popular music more generally. As with so many other books on popular music that appear only to treat very particular subjects, this one simultaneously offers much in the way of general methodological approaches and so deserves to be read even if one's scholarly interest in popular music is not gender, or ‘pop’ music (as opposed to ‘rock’).

British dandyism is not merely about style (which a book such as Alice Cicolini's (Reference Cicolini2005) would have us believe), but rather about attitude, or as Hawkins prefers to call it, after Baudelaire, ‘temperament’. And there is much at stake in understanding this temperament as it plays out in particular cultural contexts. Dandyism first emerged in France during the revolution, in part ‘as a protest against the rule of kings over fashion’ (Hawkins, quoting Niblick, p. 21). It was ‘the revolt of the individual against the established order’, as Barbey put it. Unsurprising, then, that it would become so ubiquitous in pop music, where revolt is key, nor that Britain, with its particular brand of social conservatism, tradition and restraint, would give rise to so many pop dandies whose revolt against these traits has manifested in ways particular to that nation. American figures such as Prince are another matter entirely, and it is to his credit that Hawkins chooses to treat his subject with attention to national identity and not simply to lump all dandies together. The dandy's temperament is defined here by such qualities as naivety, a cool demeanour (detached and ironic), vulnerability and eccentricity, performed spectacularly with a view to satiriz[ing] his socio-political context through the extravagance of his display' (p. 189). The dandy challenges normative gender roles, not only through fashion, but through the sound of the voice, record production and the body in video and live performances. This analytical framework allows Hawkins to cut across musical genres – treating Robbie Williams alongside Sid Vicious – and across chronology, teasing the Britpop dandies from the remains of Ray Davies and later, the cool swagger of Robert Palmer – while offering enough analytical detail for each of these performers that their individuality comes through.

Who counts as a dandy, or which dandies Hawkins chooses to treat in this study and which he doesn't, is undoubtedly a question that will arise when reading this book and it is one that Hawkins wants the reader to ponder. It is only towards the end of the first chapter (33 pages into the book) that a list of those who will be taken up in the study is offered. Hawkins makes no claim for comprehensiveness (an unrealistic goal that has rightly been abandoned by most scholars), nor does he apologise for his choices, some of which might seem, at first glance, less than obvious (Sid Vicious, Robert Palmer). As Hawkins notes: ‘Definitions of a pop dandy, as I have discovered during the years of writing this book, can easily become a personal battleground’ (p. 35). He does not include on his list what may seem to be obvious choices: Freddie Mercury, Boy George, Elton John, for example, and he himself asks the question (never answered) why not? It may simply be that these performers interest Hawkins less than the ones he chooses to write about (which is absolutely fine), but it may also have to do with the way(s) in which Hawkins treats pop music dandyism historically, situating his subjects within a long tradition of dandies not associated with music, including such figures as Beau Brummell, Edward VIII and Oscar Wilde; his general definitions of dandyism often arise from historical texts, such as those by Barbey and Baudillaire. But he also historicises the emergence of the British pop music dandy more specifically within post-industrial Britain, discussing such influences as British music hall, the art school tradition, the influence of Andy Warhol on a generation of pop musicians, and movements such as the Teddy Boys and Mods, among other elements.

This historical contextualisation is a particular strength of the book, for it allows the reader to gain a sense not only of how aspects of dandyism remain stable or change over time, but just how long and important a tradition dandyism is in British society. As one reads through the book it becomes clear that figures such as John, Mercury and Boy George are probably not subtle, ironic or complex enough to qualify as subjects here; their self-presentation might appear to be too obvious to require analysis, a fate that has so far befallen a number of important figures in pop music (Michael Jackson comes to mind). Some further discussion of the choices made could have been useful, for while such choices do not need to be justified per se, we do move debates forward through explication. Similarly, Hawkins chooses not to discuss the matter of race, save for a lengthy footnote (p. 16) in which he points out that black dandies, while important, are not the focus of the book (his footnote also points to the idea that the black dandy is an American, not a British phenomenon). That British pop dandies are overwhelmingly white is a significant marker of their subjectivity which works in tandem with their constructions of masculinity.

While the book is organised into six chapters, each of which takes up an aspect of the performance of pop music dandyism, there is methodological overlap, and some dandies are treated in more than one chapter (hence my comment that meanings tend to accrue, instead of being flatly given, as one reads through the book). As with Hawkins' other writing, this is an interdisciplinary study, drawing on critical theory, artist biography, historical documents (as already mentioned), and analysis of primary audio and video sources. But, for example, while chapter 5 is devoted to musical analysis, this mode of analysis also appears in the other chapters; and while chapter 3 deals mainly with the analysis of music videos, this is also taken up in other places. In other words, chapters are not really self-contained; one must read through the entire book to get the picture that Hawkins wishes to paint. Hawkins asserts a hierarchy of the various media that he analyzes, insisting that ‘it is music videos that mostly stake out the pop dandy's territory’ (p. 13), but on this point he sells himself short: it is precisely that Hawkins goes beyond the visual to try to locate dandyism in musical sound that is one of the path-breaking aspects of this book.

There are two elements to the musical analysis that are important to note. Hawkins engages in some structural analysis throughout the book, but in the central chapter devoted to sound (chapter 5), his approach is to analyse musical ‘moments’, as opposed to large-scale structure. Entire pieces are not analysed; rather, certain passages are chosen, and there is an emphasis on the sound of the voice, after all the primary musical vehicle of the dandy and, importantly, the way it is manipulated through recording technology. Where the voice is placed within a mix and what studio effects have been used to create particular sounds (flanging, reverb) become as important in the analysis as whether the singer is using chest or head voice, for example. In chapter 6, Hawkins devotes even more space to the technological manipulation of the voice, which he refers to as ‘vocal masking … sound as altered, concealed and moreover, enhanced’ (p. 155). It is this which renders the voice as a ‘persona’. There is obviously much here that can be applied to other kinds of popular music. Hawkins maintains that ‘the recorded voice is as much the outcome of the producer's input as the artist's’ (p. 140) and this is certainly true; I would differ with Hawkins when he continues that ‘the former [artist] is passive in his role, while the latter [producer] active’. As Jacqueline Warwick (Reference Warwick2007) has argued with respect to girl group music, we cannot underestimate the importance of the individual voice, its materiality, as key to the sound of a record, and we should not give away all of the artist's agency to the producer.

But this is a relatively minor point. Aside from the complex, multi-layered approach that Hawkins takes in this book, his main contribution lies in moving the discussion of gendered subjectivity in popular music forward. I come to a discussion of gender late in this review because for all its obviousness as a central focus of a study on dandyism, Hawkins actually makes it part of a larger politics of subjectivity. The ways in which various dandies construct their masculinity certainly shapes the narrative of this book, but except for chapter 4, this is not taken up in a sustained way. Rather, it is the broader politics of difference, otherness, deviation from a whole range of societal norms into which the construction of masculinity is placed. When Hawkins does finally take up gender as a subject in and of itself in chapter 4, he chooses to locate the dandy as queer, not necessarily gay, which allows him the flexibility to include in his discussion dandies that, biographically, identify as straight, gay, bisexual, or in terms other than orientation. As Hawkins notes, ‘the artists presented in this book are constituted as icons through their projection of sex appeal: Bowie (androgyny), [Robert] Smith (effeminacy), Morrissey (ambisexuality), Tennant and Almond (gay), Jagger (bisexuality), Ferry, Kay and Palmer (heterosexuality)’ (p. 93). Hawkins makes the point repeatedly that dandyism in British pop music is constructed, it is performed and written onto bodies regardless of, but in tandem with, sexual orientation. It is, as it always has been, as much about transgressing and challenging the hegemony of a national culture in general as it is about gender and sexuality in and of itself.

Hawkins' study, like the brilliant volume of essays Oh Boy! Masculinities and Popular Music that appeared in 2007 or, for that matter, earlier studies on heavy metal by Deena Weinstein and Robert Walser, is pushing the study of masculinity in popular music forward at a pace that, unfortunately, outdoes work on women artists and women's issues. It is precisely studies such as this, ones which move away from discussing gender and sexuality in broad strokes towards a more nuanced categorisation that cuts across conventional gender binaries, that are needed in popular music studies.