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A review by janine1122
Let's Go (So We Can Get Back): A Memoir of Recording and Discording with Wilco, Etc. by Jeff Tweedy
5.0
I work at a library, and as a result of that, the books that I own often sit on my shelves, gathering dust as I read the many books I take home and have due dates that make them more urgent to read and return by a certain due date. I love the books I own. I want to own them. I want to read them. I just...don't often get around to it.
I asked for Jeff Tweedy's memoir for Christmas, along with some other books. I got excited every time I saw Jeff Tweedy sitting there in particular, and yet I continued reading the things I took home from work. BUT, when Dan and I went to Lake Geneva for the weekend, I was fresh off of my latest read as we prepared to leave, and I decided I was only going to bring books with us that I owned. Then I couldn't decide which, of three, I was going to read.
As you can tell by the fact that I am writing this review right now, Jeff Tweedy won. (Wow, I've had a lot to say in this review so far, huh? And yet so far not any of it is about the book. Prepare yourself: even when I end this parenthetical, I'm pretty sure I won't start talking about the book right away, exactly).
One of my best friends introduced me to Wilco when I was in college, I think. They're one of her favorite bands, and she decided I needed to listen to which was a good call on her part. I've been with her to see Wilco at least once (I think maybe twice?), and I've watched the documentary, I Am Trying to Break Your Heart. One of my favorite things on the walls of our home is a Wilco poster that was gifted to Dan by an ex-girlfiend. So, yes, I'm on the Wilco train -- but not, like, HEAVY on it? I like Tweedy's voice, I like that they are hometown dudes, and I think I've listened to all their CDs at least once. I'm a fan, but not hardcore.
But man, oh man, I think after reading Let's Go... I'm going to be listening to a lot more Wilco (and Jeff Tweedy and Mavis Staples and Uncle Tupelo) in the coming days. Because I just kind of want to drown myself in Jeff Tweedy (but not in a creepy way).
I loved this memoir. Like, a lot. Tweedy is crazy smart, and really funny, and seemingly unafraid to admit when he is wrong, or could have done better, or just straight up f***ed up. His voice is interesting and refreshing and unique. His adoration for his wife and sons is obvious and endearing. His love of what he does and how much of that need to be creative is just at the core of who he is as a human is also clear. I appreciate how candid he is about his family, his life growing up, and how that impacted who he became - in both good and bad ways.
I think one of the things that made this so enjoyable was the fact that it felt real. I didn't get the impression that he was putting on airs, or trying to sugarcoat some of the tougher things in life. Does that mean that everything here is 100% accurate? I mean, probably not. Tweedy is human, and this story is told through the lens of his experience. But I do think it's true to him and how he sees things, and that he makes a stronger effort than most to provide as objective a take as he can on what he's been through, and what he's done.
The music and the various albums and phases of it play a role in this story, but not in the way I expected. They are there in the background, serving as his way of remembering what was going on in his life at the time. The experience of making the album is talked about, more than any particular songs, for the most part. And that's okay. Because it still somehow all makes sense.
At the end of the day, Tweedy just feels like a guy. As fallible and human as any of us. I mean, also, one who has had a pretty prolific career that is still going pretty strong, and has created his own FESTIVAL centered around his band. But other than that, you know, just a typical dude who loves his family and does his best.
And I love the crap out of that.
I asked for Jeff Tweedy's memoir for Christmas, along with some other books. I got excited every time I saw Jeff Tweedy sitting there in particular, and yet I continued reading the things I took home from work. BUT, when Dan and I went to Lake Geneva for the weekend, I was fresh off of my latest read as we prepared to leave, and I decided I was only going to bring books with us that I owned. Then I couldn't decide which, of three, I was going to read.
As you can tell by the fact that I am writing this review right now, Jeff Tweedy won. (Wow, I've had a lot to say in this review so far, huh? And yet so far not any of it is about the book. Prepare yourself: even when I end this parenthetical, I'm pretty sure I won't start talking about the book right away, exactly).
One of my best friends introduced me to Wilco when I was in college, I think. They're one of her favorite bands, and she decided I needed to listen to
But man, oh man, I think after reading Let's Go... I'm going to be listening to a lot more Wilco (and Jeff Tweedy and Mavis Staples and Uncle Tupelo) in the coming days. Because I just kind of want to drown myself in Jeff Tweedy (but not in a creepy way).
I loved this memoir. Like, a lot. Tweedy is crazy smart, and really funny, and seemingly unafraid to admit when he is wrong, or could have done better, or just straight up f***ed up. His voice is interesting and refreshing and unique. His adoration for his wife and sons is obvious and endearing. His love of what he does and how much of that need to be creative is just at the core of who he is as a human is also clear. I appreciate how candid he is about his family, his life growing up, and how that impacted who he became - in both good and bad ways.
I think one of the things that made this so enjoyable was the fact that it felt real. I didn't get the impression that he was putting on airs, or trying to sugarcoat some of the tougher things in life. Does that mean that everything here is 100% accurate? I mean, probably not. Tweedy is human, and this story is told through the lens of his experience. But I do think it's true to him and how he sees things, and that he makes a stronger effort than most to provide as objective a take as he can on what he's been through, and what he's done.
The music and the various albums and phases of it play a role in this story, but not in the way I expected. They are there in the background, serving as his way of remembering what was going on in his life at the time. The experience of making the album is talked about, more than any particular songs, for the most part. And that's okay. Because it still somehow all makes sense.
At the end of the day, Tweedy just feels like a guy. As fallible and human as any of us. I mean, also, one who has had a pretty prolific career that is still going pretty strong, and has created his own FESTIVAL centered around his band. But other than that, you know, just a typical dude who loves his family and does his best.
And I love the crap out of that.