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Rod: The Autobiography par [Stewart, Rod]
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Rod: The Autobiography Format Kindle

4.0 étoiles sur 5 2 commentaires client

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Description du produit

Revue de presse

“Funny, self-deprecating and a whole lot less boastful than he could be, Mr. Stewart offers a string of Grade-A rock ‘n’ roll debauchery stories and…makes them charming.” The New York Times 

“The best news about Stewart’s autobiography is that it revives the rollicking humor and self-deprecating personality of his early career. It takes the jolly perspective of a guy who knows he’s one of the world’s luckiest men, and the result proves infectious.”  –New York Daily News
 
“In an action-packed memoir, Stewart explains how he survived the excesses of Seventies rock stardom…full of bad behavior and enough ex-wives to fill an entire soccer side.” —Rolling Stone

“A he-said romp through a five-decade music career that spawned a string of enduring pop classics…[Stewart is] an entertaining storyteller who admits that at age 67 he still spends time on that bottle-blond, high-maintenance hair. We love him for that.” –The Tampa Bay Times
 
“Unsurprisingly, Rod Stewart has a few stories to tell…The singer tells them in a charming, often humble and self-deprecating, and always entertaining fashion throughout Rod, his autobiography….A moving read.” –The Buffalo News

“…a life that seems to be one endless romp from hit song to hot date, with a few stylish Italian sports cars and expensive pieces of Pre-Raphaelite art thrown in for good measure. Blondes (Have More Fun), indeed.”USA Today

"The most outrageous—and wittiest—rock autobiography of the decade." –The Daily Mail

 “Amiably and self-knowingly told… the tone [is] pitched right and the jokes good." –The Guardian
 
"Forget your Salman Rushdie.  Put down your JK Rowling.  Tomorrow sees the publication of one of the most entertaining, revealing, captivating books of the year-- the autobiography of Rod Stewart.  Truly." The Independent online

“Anyone who wants to be a rock and roll superstar should read this…crazy stories.” –Jimmy Fallon
 
“A likable, mostly generous and well-written look back at the days of bedding starlets and destroying hotels.” –Kirkus

“Looking at the fall release schedule and seeing memoirs slated from Pete Townshend and Neil Young, who would have tipped Rod Stewart as being the rock graybeard most likely to produce the best book? But he did. Rod: The Autobiography (Crown) is a warm, roguish reminiscence. More playful than Townshend's at times ponderous Who I Am and far more insightful than Young's numbing Waging Heavy Peace, Stewart's memoir has much of the joyful, big-hearted raffishness of the singer's classic early '70s recordings. (It's more "Mandolin Wind" than "Da Ya Think I'm Sexy?" — or anything else of his from the last 35 years or so.) The book is a fun, rollicking read.” —Spin.com




From the Hardcover edition.

Présentation de l'éditeur

'Ridiculously funny and astonishingly candid, Rod Stewart’s memoir is the rock autobiography of the decade’ Daily Mail

‘One of the most entertaining, revealing, captivating books of the year’ Independent

Rod Stewart was born the working-class son of a Scottish plumber in North London. Despite some early close shaves with a number of diverse career paths, ranging from gravedigging to professional football, it was music that truly captured his heart – and he never looked back.

Rod started out in the early 1960s, playing the clubs on London’s R&B scene, before his distinctively raspy voice caught the ear of the iconic front man Long John Baldry, who approached him while busking one night on a railway platform. Stints with pioneering acts like the Hoochie Coochie Men, Steampacket, and the Jeff Beck Group soon followed, paving the way into a raucous five years with the Faces, the rock star’s rock band, whose offstage antics with alcohol, wrecked hotel rooms and groupies have become the stuff of legend.

And during all this, he found a spare moment to write ‘Maggie May’, among a few others, and launch a solo career that has seen him sell an estimated 200 million records, be inducted into the Hall of Fame twice, and play the world’s largest ever concert. Not bad, as he says, for a guy with a frog in his throat.

And then, there is his not-so-private life: marriages, divorces and affairs with some of the world’s most beautiful women – Bond girls, movie stars and supermodels – and a brush with cancer which very nearly saw it all slip away.

Rod’s is an incredible life, and here, thrillingly and for the first time, he tells the whole thing, leaving no knickers under the bed. A rollicking rock ’n’ roll adventure that is at times deeply moving, this is the remarkable journey of a guy with one hell of a voice – and one hell of a head of hair.

Détails sur le produit

  • Format : Format Kindle
  • Taille du fichier : 5927 KB
  • Nombre de pages de l'édition imprimée : 386 pages
  • Editeur : Cornerstone Digital (11 octobre 2012)
  • Vendu par : Amazon Media EU S.à r.l.
  • Langue : Anglais
  • ASIN: B008AX1IPA
  • Synthèse vocale : Non activée
  • X-Ray :
  • Word Wise: Activé
  • Lecteur d’écran : Pris en charge
  • Composition améliorée: Activé
  • Moyenne des commentaires client : 4.0 étoiles sur 5 2 commentaires client
  • Classement des meilleures ventes d'Amazon: n°176.251 dans la Boutique Kindle (Voir le Top 100 dans la Boutique Kindle)
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Format: Broché
This book has no co-writer, so Rod must have done the whole job by himself (?). It reads like a dictaphone job, like he would talk to you directly. A plus, absolutely. This carries for like 60 pages, where he he tells us about his family, growing up, first musical and sexual encounters - never bragging, on the contrary. He could have written a good book had he kept on like this. Unfortunately, there are whole chapters about hair (of course), trains, football, cars, collecting art. And then the marriages, the model and actress girl friends. From this moment on, I started to read diagonally whole parts of the book. Until to the middle, when I started to only check like every tenth page if there would be something of interest. Until I read this: "The following day, I got into serious trouble when the paparazzi snapped me drinking a can of Coca-Cola." On an event sponsored by Pepsi....

I put the book down.

Read the rest later: Now I know which one of his women loved sex as much as he does, I also learned to my astonishment that Rod is not too fond of his best song in my opinion, 'Da Ya Thing I'm Sexy' - also the seminal 'Blondes Have More Fun' gets the thumbs low from Rod himself. Well, that sort of explains why he made some bad judgements about what has to go into the book. A simple case of disputable taste, then.

On the plus side: A discography at the end. And, lest I forget: At last I know the reason why he did get those puffy cheecks in the 80's: special voice treatments a.k.a. doping.

So, the book has it's strong parts, but on the whole it certainly talks too superficially about the music, the musicians, the industry etc. And there are way too many fillers here. Dommage.
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Format: Broché Achat vérifié
Pas de soucis. Commande conforme. Livre arrive en bon état et bien emballé. Je suis ravie de ma commande ainsi que du délai de livraison.
Bien faire attention car c'est bien en anglais et non en français. Mais moi, c'est ce que je cherchais.
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Commentaires client les plus utiles sur Amazon.com (beta) (Peut contenir des commentaires issus du programme Early Reviewer Rewards)

Amazon.com: 4.4 étoiles sur 5 769 commentaires
101 internautes sur 103 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 Highly entertaining, whether you're a fan or not 21 novembre 2012
Par Phil Clapham - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format: Relié Achat vérifié
Way back in the 1970's, I saw Rod Stewart acting like a petulant prima donna on a British TV program, and for a long time thereafter had him pegged as an immature twit, albeit one with a great voice. As someone who went to university in London in the mid-70's and saw just about every rock band that was worth seeing - plus a fair number who weren't - I was never a great Rod Stewart fan. I liked some of his songs - I would have absolutely killed to see the Faces play "Stay With Me" in concert - and appreciated his unique voice, but I never jumped wholeheartedly onto the Stewart bandwagon.

All of which somehow makes this autobiography all the more of a delightful surprise. It's lightly written, funny and informative. It's also charmingly self-deprecating; here is the voice of a former Bad Boy of Rock and Roll, all grown up and now looking back with the balance and wisdom of his later years.

The book is full of good behind-the-scenes stories that tell of bands, songs and relationships. We learn of Stewart's humble origins, his unsteady progress as a singer and harmonica player (he notes wryly that he was playing the latter badly for a year before someone pointed out that you could actually play the instrument by sucking as well as blowing into it), and the ups and downs of various bands and albums before fame and commercial success finally sunk their hooks into him for good. This happened in part because of his classic song Maggie May, which Stewart almost discarded from the Every Picture Tells A Story album because he didn't think much of it:

"When the Beatles finished `Please Please Me', George Martin allegedly clicked on the talkback and said, `Congratulations, boys, you've just recorded your first number one.' What would I have said had I spoken to the studio after finishing Maggie May? Probably, `Well, that's sort of OK, I suppose. Drink, anyone?'"

Originally released as the B side of a single, Maggie May was played widely by radio DJs in the States, and then in Britain, and this finally catapulted both the song and the album to number 1 at the same time in both countries (a feat which, Stewart notes, not even Elvis or the Beatles had managed).

Stewart avoids the temptation to use his autobiography to settle scores, and usually describes conflicts tactfully, despite telling us that, "as everyone in the business of rock'n'roll knows, the rule is as follows: in bands, there's always one c**t who no one gets on with." (Amazon won't allow the c word to be printed, even though it's a quote from the book). That he was a horrible and terminally unfaithful partner to his various wives and girlfriends he openly admits. The caricatured life of a star - literally sex, drugs and rock and roll - was too good to pass up, and Stewart indulged unceasingly and head first. At one point he confesses to spending a week in a prime hotel suite in the south of France, literally flying in one girl after another (his manager would drop off one girl at the airport and then head over to Arrivals to pick up the next to arrive).

And on the positive side, we get some great stories about his closest friends in the business; the tales of his long relationship with Elton John, including their constant practical jokes and one-upmanship, are particularly amusing. Not to mention the so-called Sex Police: members of the band who tried their best to stop any other band member from having sex with whatever groupie he'd brought back to the hotel after a concert. In one case, this involved removing every last piece of furniture from a musician's hotel suite and replacing it with live chickens. The afflicted band member duly returned and, acting as if nothing was amiss, proceeded to enjoy his girl anyway... as Stewart notes, the important thing was not to give your friends the satisfaction of seeing you inconvenienced or annoyed.

Along the way, we get amusing digressions on various topics ranging from his love of cars to Rod Stewart impersonators to the staggering amount of work involved in creating his hairdo... all of this related in a tone that makes it clear he never takes himself too seriously.

Viewed superficially, Stewart could be written off - as some have done - as a pretty boy with a good voice. But that does him a disservice: it's very clear from this book that a genuine love of great music was there from the beginning, and he has both appreciated and embraced genres that ranged widely from folk to blues to hard-core rock. Indeed, reading this book made me go back and listen to a "Best of" album (I highly recommend The Definitive Rod Stewart, a two-CD set that includes most of his best songs); in doing so, I recognized many of these influences, sometimes woven together to give a richer whole. Above it all, of course, is that famous raspy voice which, at its best, reflects Stewart's emotional investment in the lyrics (listen to his heartfelt rendering of Tom Waits' wonderful song Tom Traubert's Blues).

But overall, you don't have to love the guy to enjoy this book; it's a very entertaining romp through his career, and along the way it provides a highly readable history of the musical era in which he became famous.

And Rod Stewart - at least in his maturity - turns out to be a nice guy after all.
13 internautes sur 13 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
4.0 étoiles sur 5 FAULTY MEMORY OR LYING? 16 septembre 2014
Par Miss Josh Emmett - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format: Relié Achat vérifié
I knew Rod Stewart back in the day and the poor old guy, one year older than me, is either suffering from memory loss or choosing to forget. I was not a groupie. I worked for these bands. I have the photos/negatives to prove it.
Let’s take the Shotgun Express, whom I watched from the side of the stage in England, 1967, as I was friend of Peter Bardens. Rod’s current version is much less of a disaster than the true story but, suffice it to say, Peter and Rod ended up hating each other until the bitter end.
Jeff Beck was always nice to me and very gentlemanly. We had lovely long talks in the dressing rooms, mostly about cars. Two things from this period: Rod did not have a driving license (1. He told himself in 1968, 2. It made the papers and magazines when he got it during the summer of 1970) and the last concert was 26.July.1969 at the Grande Ballroom in Detroit, Michigan. They were supposed to play the 25th, as well, but Jeff cancelled, however he did play the next day.
His memories of Ron Wood during the Beck era are very faulty. And, no, I haven’t read Ronnie’s autobiography, yet. I was surprised that Rod never mentioned Ron’s slide guitar. He profusely carried on about “my Ron being the world’s greatest slide guitar player.” When The Faces played the Eastown Theatre in Detroit, Rod would proudly introduce Ron for his solo and then come down into the crowd to watch Ron from the front. One night he took my camera and walked across taking photos of just Ron. (Rod, also, gave my camera to another girl when he finished, but I promptly went and got it back.) On the next trip, Rod demanded to see the photos of Ron. Every one was blurred and Rod was very angry.
In all the parties, I worked for The Faces, there were no drugs of any kind, only alcohol. The first night I was hired, my business partners and I went back to the hotel and there was a party with weed. Rod and I did not smoke. Ron did. There was always alcohol, and for the parties we were in charge of, there was only Boone’s Farm Apple Wine with only one complaint from Ian McLagan, who wanted Courvoisier, but he didn’t get it. Plus, we had to keep cartons of milk for Rod in the ice-filled bathtub, as he had an ulcer and need the milk to sooth his stomach after a night of drinking. The rest of the band drank milk, too. Plus a friend just put my over 500 negatives on a DVD and in the onstage photos, Mac was never wearing a flower, nor was their any cocaine use, period. However, this may have started after they began playing the arenas and I was no longer working for them. That would be 1975. Rod makes it sound like this happened from the get-go.
I will make one comment here in defense of Rod: The Faces were playing Cobo Hall in Detroit and they were billeted in the Pontchartrain Hotel across the street. Looking out Rod’s window the huge marquee read, ROD STEWART AND THE FACES. Rod demanded that it be taken down. Cobo Hall said that it was too much work, the concert was only a few hours away, and it was staying. Rod was stuck looking at it. At another venue in Lansing, Michigan, Rod (and later the rest of the band) was so nice to the university kids working at the Holiday Inn that they ran out and put, WELCOME FROM ENGLAND THE FACES on their sign. (A side note: Jefferson Airplane were headlining the festival and when Grace Slick threw a temper tantrum and said they should be on the sign and the kids refused, they left…completely…making The Faces the headlining act!)
During the Jeff Beck Group days, they were driving themselves across country and to gigs in the U.S., at least. In The Faces, Rod had a room to himself at all times and, even when there was a limo, he would put the groupie-for-the-night in the back, close the door, and march over to us for his ride. Even to the airport, we got stuck with the world’s worst backseat driver (although he sat in the front) and was constantly worried about the speed we were driving. He liked it slow and timed the lights and was on constant lookout for any hazards, especially the possibility of children running into the street. His love of flash cars was never mentioned, although it is possible he was driving in England. Jeff said he, himself, often used his middle name, which was his father’s name, when getting tickets, so he would only have half as many speeding tickets…poor Mr. Arnold Beck! And you did NOT want to see Ron Wood’s driving, although Rod felt fine letting him drive.
The only Rod woman I met, besides the groupies, was Britt Ekland. She told me Rod was sleeping and couldn’t see anyone. I had things to give him and a paper to sign. I went back later and she told me the same. When she left, Ron Wood was the happiest camper in the world and hugged Rod to bits, and Rod yelled at me for not bringing the stuff earlier and defended Britt, saying she wouldn’t have done that. It happens with bands, you deal with it.
Rod was very tight with money. He would have me run down to the store for various toiletries and tell me to get a receipt. If the total was $19.99, he would go to Billy Gaff or one of the lads and borrow the money to the penny. Never a twenty and keep the change. (Britt did write of the same thing happening to her in True Britt, how Rod didn’t carry a wallet and she had to pay for everything when they were out, however, he always paid her back, to the penny.)
The band did, indeed, get paid cash for all the gigs in the early days. Reason? Checks bounced! Get your money after the ticket sales! Gaff would have to put the money in the hotel/motel safe until the next day when he could get to the bank.
Oh, and in Detroit, my business partners and I invented the ledge walk to scare the daylights out of Ron Wood. It worked! Rod nicked to it and told us to stop it! And, in those days, Peter Buckland was great fun, but not insane. Plus cake icing, when artfully added with a plastic knife, greatly enhances flowers on paintings… And, although I saw many a little man peeking over and out of things in a Kilroy Was Here manner, I never saw a penis, so this must also have started during the arena tours in 1975.
After early 1975, I lost permanent touch with Rod, so the rest of the book proved interesting, but taken with a grain of salt by me. I will say that Rod’s rules of raising children did, indeed, reflect his life of the road. Many a time I had to use the combo of first and middle name to get a naughty person’s attention and adapt the art of smacking the back of hands to stop them from, as an example, throwing rolls at each other in restaurants. The ‘mom’ approach worked with all the bands as, on the road, they are a bunch of little boys. So, if you find Rod’s rules a bit appalling (the bucket can also fall with the water and do a head injury), it was just that Rod was never a man, he will always be a boy.
3 internautes sur 3 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
4.0 étoiles sur 5 Interesting Writing... 22 avril 2016
Par George M. - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format: Format Kindle Achat vérifié
Rod Stewart is the luckiest man in the world. And he knew it. His words. He still wakes up every day and thanks his lucky stars for the life he has led. He is also a very entertaining writer. A very glib, easy-going writing style -- it slides by without unnecessary words or serpentine meaning. And he knows how to use a summation sentence to start each paragraph, so you never have to re-read anything or ask yourself `What is this numnut trying to say?` He's self deprecating, and zero ego driven self-absorption is evident. There's much in it about his love life, which I appreciated. 3 wives plus 2 long term sig-others later, you do start to wonder if he will ever realize that his penchant for tall gorgeous blonde models in their early 20's may have had something to do with things eventually not working out. Really though, if you are also of the male persuasion, who likes tall gorgeous blonde models in their early 20's? (You can't see it, but my hand raised...).

I could have done without the details of his soccer(football) experiences, it being one of his passions and all. But he had the forethought to contain it in a few dedicated chapters titled `Digression` so it was easy to skip through it without missing anything else. But mostly Rod's autobi is about the music, and this is critically important to me. I was never a Rod superfan, but as a rocker I always liked what he put out along the way -- always a mixture of a lot of styles that only the rock idiom can do. It was about musical blends. I loved the details of how songs got written, who was playing what, and why the arrangements came together as they did. Too many Rock Stars tell you all the details about what happened to them, but not what it all meant. Only the evolutionary details of the music, and the times in which it was created, can explain what it all meant, and Rod digs deeply into his professional life in this regard. Very cool.

Of course, you also learn all the incredible long shots and lucking strokes that had to come together make a Rod Stewart. And there were plenty of them, most not the slightest bit obvious to Rod as they happened: `If you expect to get anywhere in the music business, son, you're going to have to get that raspy buzz out of your voice!` And on from there. By the end of this delicious autobi you agree with him -- he is without a doubt, the luckiest man in the world. At least the luckiest Rock Star. In addition to all that, he delivered something in his Rock Star autobi that few others have: Interesting writing!
1.0 étoiles sur 5 It's all about ME ME ME!!!! 25 avril 2017
Par GigglingPixie - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format: Broché Achat vérifié
While I enjoy Rod's music...the most interesting parts of this book were reading about what he went through BEFORE he made it. I've never seen such a self absorbed, lack of remorse, jerk in my life! I would be ashamed & embarrassed to even write about most of the stuff that he did for the world to know about...must have needed some extra $$$ to buy another car or house.
5.0 étoiles sur 5 Forever Rod! 10 mars 2016
Par I Am Celt - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format: Format Kindle Achat vérifié
I am an absolute Rod Stewart freak and don't deny it. I've had the privilege of seeing him in concert four times, albeit from the lawn section of the PNC Arts Center in NJ, so I went into this book expecting to like it. I didn't like it...I loved it. Rod is very realistic about his life, sharing both his triumphs and all the crazy (and costly) shenanigans he and his band-mates participated in, especially regarding hotel rooms. There was a great deal of honesty in this book, and I appreciated this, as any reader should. It was nicely rounded-out by the fact that the man can, and frequently does, laugh at himself. Breath of fresh air, especially given that he lives in a world where people tend to be overly-impressed with themselves. His writing style is tongue-in-cheek and, while it will never be nominated for a Pulitzer, it was very well done, in my opinion, from the perspective of one who reads for pleasure. The chapter on his hair deserves it's own review...it was absolutely hysterical and literally had me laughing out loud (I was glad I was home while reading it, rather than sitting in the dentist's waiting room, or some other public place).
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