Jeff Tweedy, founding member of Uncle Tupelo and Wilco, has penned a moving memoir about the creative life, family, and the Midwest. Tweedy's tone frequently shifts between playful humor to heavy going meditations on how confusing and painful life can be. Let's Go also plays with the form of one of the hackneyed genre of books, the "rock memoir." Tweedy is self deprecating and insightful on the evolution of music over the past decades.
Tweedy's reminisces of growing up in Belleville, Illinois, about 30 miles west of St. Louis, are a highlight. He avoids the wistful nostalgia of Jean Sheperd, but gives a realistic portrait of a region in decline in the 1970s:
In reality it was pretty depressing. Depressing and depressed in all of the familiar ways common to dying Midwest manufacturing hubs: a lot of old empty buildings and a lot of occupied bar stools (1).
His father worked for the railroad, while his Mom was an interior designer. Jeff's siblings were much older so he grew up as an only child. Tweedy formed a close bond with his Mom because his Dad worked long hours, a functional alcoholic who drank a 12 pack of beer every night to relieve the monotony of his work. Despite the slightly dysfunctional household both parents supported Jeff in his pursuit of music.
In High School, Tweedy befriended classmate Jay Farrar, with whom he shared a passion for punk records. Farrar came from a musical family and served as a sort of mentor to Tweedy even though they were same age, encouraging him write his own songs. Uncle Tupelo would record four albums from 1989-1993 and gain critical attention as the "alt-country" band. As Tweedy's confidence as a singer and songwriter grew, the partnership frayed and ended in 1994. Farrar would start his own band Son Volt. Tweedy formed Wilco out of desperation, uncertain if he could lead a band, but eventually found the experience to be liberating:
when Jay Farrar quit the band, I went really quickly from feeling despondent to some place of excitement and curiosity. It really was the cliche of one door closing and another opening (124).
Wilco would build an audience in time through non-stop touring and gain recognition as a premier American band. Their 1999 LP Summerteeth begin an experimental phase, abandoning traditional rock in favor of pushing studio technology to the limits. Tweedy also began to take inspiration from modern literature. Wilco's 2002 release Yankee Hotel Foxtrot became a touchstone album of the decade in more ways than one. The music found it audience in a novel way - the internet. Album art and cryptic lyrics were oddly in sync with the post-9/11 climate hovering over America.
Tweedy also sets the record straight on a tumultuous time for WIlco, specifically the firing of his main collaborator during that era, Jay Bennett. A gifted multi-instrumentalist and songwriter in his own right, Bennett brought an energy that pushed the band creatively. Bennett's addiction to pills and creative differences with Tweedy led to tensions and Tweedy fired him from Wilco, a drama that played out on the 2002 documentary I Am Trying to Break Your Heart. Bennett passed away in 2009 from an overdose, news Tweedy dreaded to hear. But he also credits the move with saving his own life and facing his own addictions.
Aside from music, Let's Go is about Tweedy's maturing as a person, husband, and father. He entered rehab to kick his addiction to pills (due to anxiety and recurring migraines he struggled with since childhood). Tweedy's accounts of losing his parents and supporting his wife through a cancer scare are harrowing and moving.
Now in a somewhat more comfortable place, Tweedy now makes music with his two sons and still tours with Wilco. He's become a notable producer, his recent work with Mavis Staples is especially notable. While the book never directly addresses the changing perceptions of Wilco from being the hip "American Radiohead" to the passive-aggressive sobriquet of "dad rock" bestowed on them by Pitchfork. Jeff acknowledges his fans have matured along with him and the band.
Let's Go is everything a good memoir should be. There's witty anecdotes, wry humor, and a literary touch. The writing style is direct and accessible. Tweedy's often self deprecating and goes out of his way to demystify the mystique of the songwriter, crediting much of his success to luck, family support, and work ethic. Tweedy's also generous towards his influences and is himself a walking encyclopedia of music history.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment