Let's Go (So We Can Get Back): A Memoir of Recording and Discording with Wilco, Etc.

by Jeff Tweedy

Like Tuli Kupferberg from the Fugs said when I met him and told him that he was my hero, “Oy, times are tough all over.”

I needed to “catch up” with her like I needed to sit down with Madonna and reminisce about all the times I watched the “Lucky Star” video on MTV as a teen.

“Don’t get discouraged, get a good guitar.”

I have sort of a survivor’s guilt about it that makes me want it for everyone. Not the “guitar” exactly, but something like it for everybody. Something that would love them back the more they love it. Something that would remind them of how far they’ve come and provide clear evidence that the future is always unfolding toward some small treasure worth waiting for. At the very least, I wish everyone had a way to kill time without hurting anyone, including themselves. That’s what I wish. That’s what the guitar became for me that summer and is to me still.

All band names are stupid. The Beatles is the worst pun. But the Beatles doesn’t mean the Beatles anymore. You don’t listen to their music and think, “Oh yeah, I get it, they’re like beetles but spelled with an a because they’re rhythmic insects.” The Beatles means the Beatles. Sonic Youth? Come on! That’s the worst.

Three years of college in which I managed to not accumulate a single credit. An accomplishment I’m oddly proud of. You try it.

He returned with a six-pack of beer. “Is that it?” I asked him. “Yeah,” he said. “What, did I get the wrong kind?” “No, it’s just . . . I thought you were getting beer for both of us.” He looked at the six-pack and tried to make sense of my complaint. “I did,” he said, opening a bottle and offering it to me. Up to that point in my life I had honestly never seen anyone buy just a six-pack of beer.

Every time somebody asks me, “How ’bout the Cubs?” I want to respond with “Yeah, the Cubs, they’re going to die someday. Do you ever think about that? All of them. All of them. Rizzo. Bryant. The one with the goatee. The other ones. The

One time I had Rick Danko from the Band tell me that I sound desperate when I sing, and that I should never allow myself to not sound desperate.