The singer, guitarist, and songwriter—best known for his work with Wilco—opens up about his past, his songs, the music, and the people that have inspired him.
Wildly entertaining ... Tweedy refuses to let himself off the hook—with breathtaking candor, he writes about how his opioid addiction led him to making horrifying decisions ... an intensely charming book, leavened by Tweedy's dry, sometimes goofy, sense of humor ... it's Tweedy's earnestness and bravery...that makes his memoir so 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.
Much like Tweedy knows songs should have meanings, he knows a memoir should have anecdotes that speak to who he is as a person. And while Tweedy provides those, they are often minor moments, the kind that imprinted deeply on him but could seem like random recollections to anyone else ... Tweedy’s writing is at its most evocative when he’s explaining how the songs he loved changed his worldview and pushed him to become a musician ... The self-deprecating memoirist is in itself a cliché, but it’s telling just how authentic Let’s Go feels when taken as a whole ... The stories he elects to tell may be frustrating for fans who want to learn more about, say, the creation of specific Wilco albums, but it offers a compelling portrait of an artist whose everyman nature proves to be anything but a front.
But in his new memoir, the leader of Chicago’s long-running band Wilco isn’t interested in the usual rehashings of life and career. Those expecting lots of backstage dish will have to settle for his account of being mistaken for an usher at the Grammys by Sean 'Diddy' Combs ... Tweedy... is much more interested in examining the painful lessons he has learned from his life as a songwriter and a family man. In this he 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 ... Considering Tweedy’s life-threatening addictions and his wife’s frightening bouts with cancer, you can understand why such distant events might lose some of their edge. 'Leaving behind as many of the myths surrounding suffering and art as I possibly could was the only path forward,' he writes. This book is a significant step in that direction.
