Let's Go (So We Can Get Back)
A Memoir of Recording and Discording with Wilco, Etc.
(Sprache: Englisch)
The singer, guitarist, and songwriter-best known for his work with Wilco-opens up about his past, his songs, the music, and the people who have inspired him in this personal memoir. This ideal addition to your Wilco collection also makes a perfect gift for...
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The singer, guitarist, and songwriter-best known for his work with Wilco-opens up about his past, his songs, the music, and the people who have inspired him in this personal memoir. This ideal addition to your Wilco collection also makes a perfect gift for music lovers.*A New York Times Bestseller*
*A Rolling Stone Best Music Books of 2018 selection*
*A Pitchfork Pick: Best Music Books of 2018*
Few bands have encouraged as much devotion as the Chicago rock band Wilco, and it's thanks, in large part, to the band's singer, songwriter, and guiding light: Jeff Tweedy. But while his songs and music have been endlessly discussed and analyzed, Jeff has rarely talked so directly about himself, his life, or his artistic process.
Until now. In his long-awaited memoir, Jeff will tell stories about his childhood in Belleville, Illinois; the St. Louis record store, rock clubs, and live-music circuit that sparked his songwriting and performing career; and the Chicago scene that brought it all together. He also talks in-depth about his collaborators in Uncle Tupelo, Wilco, and more; and writes lovingly about his parents; wife, Susie; and sons, Spencer and Sammy.
Honest, funny, and disarming, Tweedy's memoir will bring readers inside both his life and his musical process, illuminating his singular genius and sharing his story, voice, and perspective for the first time.
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1The World's Longest Main Street
I grew up in a place called Belleville, a town of about forty thousand in Southern Illinois, a half-hour drive outside of St. Louis. It's the "stove capital of the world," or at least it was at the turn of the century. That's what we were told, anyway. It's also the home of Jimmy Connors and Buddy Ebsen (Uncle Jed from The Beverly Hillbillies), and when I was growing up they made Stag Beer there. So as you can imagine, my childhood was pretty magical.
In reality it was pretty depressing. Depressing and depressed in all of the familiar ways common to dying midwestern manufacturing hubs: a lot of old empty buildings and a lot of occupied barstools. The things that made our town unique and special were hard to get super excited about. Belleville has (purportedly) the longest Main Street in the U.S., spanning 9.2 miles and ending somewhere around East St. Louis. One stretch of road and so many opportunities to get loaded and almost zero chance of getting lost. I don't know how many bars were on Main Street, but there must've been a lot, because Belleville's other claim to fame was having the most taverns per capita. I found out later that wasn't true, which was kind of a relief, because it never felt like something worth bragging about. As if day drinking was a commodity we could have exported and sold to the rest of the world.
I lived just a half block off the Main Street with too many bars, on a tree-lined street with a name like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting: Fortieth. Our small single-family wood-framed house with a porch and a swing ended up being the last home my folks would ever own after my mother impulsively paid $16,000 for it at an auction in the early spring of 1967. Apparently she knew she was pregnant with me but hadn't told my dad. I was the card up her proverbial sleeve to ease his expected top-blowing at her fiscal
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irresponsibility. The previous owner had died in that house, which creeped me out as a kid, and as it turned out both of my parents ended up dying there as well. So everyone who ever owned the house I grew up in died there.
Which is, I think, the main reason my siblings and I weren't overly sentimental about hanging on to it after we buried my dad in 2017. Aside from all of that backstory, the place was fairly nondescript. The one word I think would be most useful in setting the scene of my childhood? Mauve. There was a lot of mauve. Mauve carpets, mauve wallpaper, mauve furniture. Everything was mauve. Think of a smaller me, and then picture the color mauve, and you've conjured my childhood in a nutshell.
I'm not sure if my parents intended to have me. I've heard different accounts. The popular story is that I was an accident. Regardless, I was late to the family party. My older sister, Debbie, who's fifteen years my senior, was born when my dad was just eighteen. They had two more kids, Steve and Greg, and by the time I showed up, my dad was in his midthirties, an age that most men of his generation considered well past prime baby-making years. My dad changed his story over time. He once told me, "I remember your mother called me at work and said, 'I want another one,' and I was home before she hung up the phone." I don't know if that's true. He always told that version with at least a six-pack under his belt, so I can't vouch for its veracity. It's possible he was trying to spare my feelings. Who wants to be an accident? That's a hard way to come into the world, created just because the responsible parties weren't paying attention. On the other hand, aren't we all accidents? Sorry, moving on . . .
My dad-his name was Bob, but for the purposes of this narrative, let's stick with Dad-worked on the railroad (yes, all the livelong day). He dropped out of high school after he got my mom pregnant when she was f
Which is, I think, the main reason my siblings and I weren't overly sentimental about hanging on to it after we buried my dad in 2017. Aside from all of that backstory, the place was fairly nondescript. The one word I think would be most useful in setting the scene of my childhood? Mauve. There was a lot of mauve. Mauve carpets, mauve wallpaper, mauve furniture. Everything was mauve. Think of a smaller me, and then picture the color mauve, and you've conjured my childhood in a nutshell.
I'm not sure if my parents intended to have me. I've heard different accounts. The popular story is that I was an accident. Regardless, I was late to the family party. My older sister, Debbie, who's fifteen years my senior, was born when my dad was just eighteen. They had two more kids, Steve and Greg, and by the time I showed up, my dad was in his midthirties, an age that most men of his generation considered well past prime baby-making years. My dad changed his story over time. He once told me, "I remember your mother called me at work and said, 'I want another one,' and I was home before she hung up the phone." I don't know if that's true. He always told that version with at least a six-pack under his belt, so I can't vouch for its veracity. It's possible he was trying to spare my feelings. Who wants to be an accident? That's a hard way to come into the world, created just because the responsible parties weren't paying attention. On the other hand, aren't we all accidents? Sorry, moving on . . .
My dad-his name was Bob, but for the purposes of this narrative, let's stick with Dad-worked on the railroad (yes, all the livelong day). He dropped out of high school after he got my mom pregnant when she was f
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Autoren-Porträt von Jeff Tweedy
Jeff Tweedy
Bibliographische Angaben
- Autor: Jeff Tweedy
- 2019, 320 Seiten, mit Abbildungen, Maße: 13,9 x 20,8 cm, Kartoniert (TB), Englisch
- Verlag: Dutton
- ISBN-10: 1101985275
- ISBN-13: 9781101985274
- Erscheinungsdatum: 06.01.2020
Sprache:
Englisch
Pressezitat
Engaging . . . Sometimes the most revolutionary thing about music comes down to its ability to transform an individual. The New York Times Book Review
Wildly entertaining . . . Breathtaking . . . Unforgettable . . . Tweedy's music has never shied away from darkness, but he's also never been afraid to celebrate joy. The same is true with this remarkable memoir it's a wonderful book, alternately sorrowful and triumphant, and it's a gift not just to his fans, but to anyone who cares about American rock music.
NPR.org
"The book s unsparing detail on everything from his upbringing in drab Belleville, Illinois, to the contentious band dynamics of Wilco and alt-country gods Uncle Tupelo make this a uniquely raw rock autobiography.
Rolling Stone
Let s Go is especially enlightening, a rock n roll book that quietly dismantles what we expect from rock n roll books.
Pitchfork
Illuminating . . . A compelling portrait of an artist whose everyman nature proves to be anything but a front.
AV Club
"[Tweedy] succeeds in entertaining and oddly revealing ways, moving with shape-shifting ease from wry self-effacement to what he calls Midwestern sarcasm to naked confession.
Chicago Tribune
Laced with funny anecdotes . . . Readers might sometimes wonder at Tweedy s lyrics, but in his playing, singing, and writing, whether in solo efforts, in collaboration with Wilco, or in his producing other artists, we know we have something to treasure.
Associated Press
In its willingness to probe the most vulnerable periods in his past, though, [Let s Go (So We Can Get Back)] is of a piece with Tweedy s revered songwriting.
Vanity Fair
His writing . . . could not be any more inviting and engaging, full of voice and rich, vivid storytelling. . . . He composes lengthy chapters that dive deep into explanations of his songwriting and recording process, the pain and joy of his
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upbringing, and his attempts to grapple with addiction, marriage, and parenthood.
Pittsburgh Post-Gazette
Let s Go (So We Can Get Back) reads more like a collection of humorously confessional essays by David Sedaris than a conventional rock memoir.
Uproxx
Engaging and self-questioning.
The Philadelphia Inquirer
The Wilco front man has just written one of the best and most revealing memoirs in years. . . . Let s Go is a warts-and-all addiction memoir, but luckily it is much more than that, too. It s also a genuinely moving ode to his wife and two sons (one of whom, Spencer, is the drummer in his side project, Tweedy), and an impassioned and often quite funny firsthand account of a music geek s coming of age.
The Ringer
Though Tweedy s lyrics tend to be oblique, his new memoir is anything but.
Men s Journal
We already knew Jeff Tweedy could write. . . . We didn t know Tweedy could write an entire book, and do it really well. But with the arrival of his new memoir, Let s Go (So We Can Get Back) . . . it s clear Tweedy is just as adept at writing nonfiction as he is songs. Let s Go is a dry-witted examination of Tweedy s personal life and career so enjoyable even the most casual of fans will be hooked.
Paste
By turns self-deprecating, sincere, hilarious, and harrowing.
The Boston Globe
"A funny and candid addition to the rock-memoir genre.
Newsweek
Funny and frank.
Entertainment Weekly
A memoir every bit as openhearted and captivating as [Tweedy s] best songwriting. . . . Even the most difficult events in this page-turner are edged with humor and the hindsight of someone looking back from a better place. Though stories of contemporary musicians occupy a crowded field, this one s a cut above the rest. Tweedy proves himself delightful company, and, as with his music, readers will hear this resonating long after they ve finished.
Library Journal (starred review)
Tweedy writes movingly about his parents, his wife and children, and his desire to find an artistic home for his band. Thoughtful, earnest reflections on family, creative integrity, and a life in music.
Kirkus Reviews
Tweedy will delight fans by sharing such tidbits as his favorite moment in the Wilco documentary and how a Noah s Ark analogy powered the Grammy-winning A Ghost Is Born album. Tweedy tells a wonderfully unassuming story of a music-filled life.
Publishers Weekly
Pittsburgh Post-Gazette
Let s Go (So We Can Get Back) reads more like a collection of humorously confessional essays by David Sedaris than a conventional rock memoir.
Uproxx
Engaging and self-questioning.
The Philadelphia Inquirer
The Wilco front man has just written one of the best and most revealing memoirs in years. . . . Let s Go is a warts-and-all addiction memoir, but luckily it is much more than that, too. It s also a genuinely moving ode to his wife and two sons (one of whom, Spencer, is the drummer in his side project, Tweedy), and an impassioned and often quite funny firsthand account of a music geek s coming of age.
The Ringer
Though Tweedy s lyrics tend to be oblique, his new memoir is anything but.
Men s Journal
We already knew Jeff Tweedy could write. . . . We didn t know Tweedy could write an entire book, and do it really well. But with the arrival of his new memoir, Let s Go (So We Can Get Back) . . . it s clear Tweedy is just as adept at writing nonfiction as he is songs. Let s Go is a dry-witted examination of Tweedy s personal life and career so enjoyable even the most casual of fans will be hooked.
Paste
By turns self-deprecating, sincere, hilarious, and harrowing.
The Boston Globe
"A funny and candid addition to the rock-memoir genre.
Newsweek
Funny and frank.
Entertainment Weekly
A memoir every bit as openhearted and captivating as [Tweedy s] best songwriting. . . . Even the most difficult events in this page-turner are edged with humor and the hindsight of someone looking back from a better place. Though stories of contemporary musicians occupy a crowded field, this one s a cut above the rest. Tweedy proves himself delightful company, and, as with his music, readers will hear this resonating long after they ve finished.
Library Journal (starred review)
Tweedy writes movingly about his parents, his wife and children, and his desire to find an artistic home for his band. Thoughtful, earnest reflections on family, creative integrity, and a life in music.
Kirkus Reviews
Tweedy will delight fans by sharing such tidbits as his favorite moment in the Wilco documentary and how a Noah s Ark analogy powered the Grammy-winning A Ghost Is Born album. Tweedy tells a wonderfully unassuming story of a music-filled life.
Publishers Weekly
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