It took me years to write, will you take a look?

Everyone has a story to tell.

For those famous enough to get a publishing deal, writing one’s memoirs seems to be more popular than ever.  In the world of pop music, especially rock music of the ’60s, ’70s and ’80s, writing an autobiography, it seems, has become the latest rite of passage for many who thrived in that era.

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Readers who know me well are aware that, when it comes to books about rock music, I inhale them.   Reference books about the Billboard charts, in-depth examinations of specific genres or regions, biographies (authorized and unauthorized) of famous artists and producers — I love ’em all, soaking up interesting factoids and arcane album information for use in some future party conversation (or this blog).

But why the spike in rock ‘n roll memoirs from survivors of rock’s earlier decades?  Call me cynical, but I’m guessing many of these aging performing artists figure they better commit their tales to paper ASAP before their memories fail them or they keel over (God knows that’s been happening way too often lately).

These memoirs typically include at least one “tell-all” bombshell that will help sell copies, but the best ones offer truly insightful information and thoughtful opinions from some of the major (and minor) players in the rock music kingdom.  And if the reader is really lucky, the book might actually be well written.

Sadly, the bookshelves are littered with recent examples of what amount to “Dear Diary” ramblings — self-indulgent, immature, lamely crafted and in dire need of major editing or a total rewrite.  But the good news is they’re outnumbered by a few dozen really captivating memoirs written in intelligent prose, with a healthy mix of humor, humility, pathos, perspective and (you can’t avoid it in this business) ego.

Let’s face it, if you’re a popular music artist, let alone a rock and roll star, it’s assumed you likely have an outsized ego, an ego big enough to tell you your life is interesting enough, and important enough, that people are going to want to read all about it, from childhood through early struggles to fame and fortune, to maybe scandal, setbacks and rehab.  How literately you tell your story, it should be noted, makes all the difference between respect and ridicule in the end.

Speaking of ridiculous, these days we have young artists writing their memoirs who have barely turned 30.  I mean, Justin Bieber?  It’s laughable.  Best to wait until you’ve had a life long enough to write about.

No one can say for sure if some of these “autobiographies” were helped along by seasoned journalists serving as ghost writers, but I’m going to give the stars the benefit of the doubt and trust them if they said they wrote them themselves.  All I know is, if it’s an entertaining read, and I learn things I didn’t know before, and I’d recommend it to others, then it was worth my time and money.

Here are 20 rock ‘n’ roll memoirs I found to be worthy of your attention.  These are not biographies written by others, only autobiographies. Full confession:  I didn’t read ALL of EVERY book listed here.  In a few cases, I only skimmed them in preparation for this blog, and read a summary of reviews.  But my aim is to read them all someday.

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“Born to Run,” Bruce Springsteen, 2016

As a lyricist, Springsteen has written pungent, heartfelt lyrics both concise and wordy, capturing moments and emotions better than almost anyone.  To no one’s surprise, The Boss writes lucidly and with great precision in his memoirs about his long, slow journey from the dead-end Jersey Shore to the peaks of superstardom.  Despite the fact that he’s added another ten years of achievements since this book was first published, this book is a satisfyingly comprehensive look at one of rock’s finest composers and showmen.

“My Cross to Bear,” Gregg Allman, 2012

I’m not sure I should have expected anything else, but Allman’s book revealed him to be an incredibly selfish asshole for much of his life, and he admits as much.  There’s no denying his brilliance as a blues singer, keyboardist and songwriter, but holy smokes, he was horrible to every woman in his life, and self-destructive as hell.  Still, he writes about all this in candid, compelling fashion, and got it done five years before his death in 2017 at age 69.

“Boys in the Trees: A Memoir,” Carly Simon, 2016

Largely at arm’s length from the self-destructive lifestyle that damaged many of her contemporaries, Simon survived to tell a decidedly different story from most ’70s singer-songwriters.  She writes from a calm epicenter as a daughter/mother/wife more than as a Grammy-winning artist, and it’s not at all boring but, in fact, invigorating. I just read this one within the last year and don’t know why I put it off for so long. She has a fascinating story to tell.

“Not Dead Yet: The Memoir,” Phil Collins, 2016

What a treat!  The fact that Collins tells his long and winding story with such self-deprecating charm and humor lays waste to his unfair reputation as an egotistical jackass.  He even uses his book’s title to debunk the silly “Phil is dead” rumor that plagued him in the mid-2000s. His evolution from Genesis’s replacement drummer in 1970 to their new lead singer in 1976 to ubiquitous solo artist in the 1980s and back into the band’s final years in the 2000s is quite a tale. This might be the most entertaining read on this list.

“Life,” Keith Richards, 2011

Given Keef’s notoriety as rock’s drug poster boy over the years, pretty much nobody expected this to be even remotely as great as it turned out to be.  How could he remember much of anything, given all he’s ingested?  But recall he did, with considerable flair, and the result is one of the most praised rock autobiographies ever. And he has lived on for another 15 years since it was published. Go figure.

“Simple Dreams: A Musical Memoir,” Linda Ronstadt, 2013

One of the most impressive singing careers of the 1970s, 1980s and 1990s was cut short in heartbreaking fashion when, in 2011, Ronstadt was diagnosed with a degenerative disease which robbed her of, among other things, the ability to control her vocal cords. She turned her attention to writing “Simple Dreams,” a humbly philosophical memoir of her life, which included multiple hit albums and singles in the folk, country, rock, Big Band and Latino musical genres.

“Me,” Elton John, 2019

If you saw the “Rocketman” musical biopic released the same year, you may think you know all there is to know about the shy-boy-turned-superstar, but I assure you, you don’t. In “Me,” Elton John goes far deeper into his life and career, warts and all, offering his own candid observations on the early struggles, the fame, the conflicted sexuality, the excesses, the musical partnerships and his eventual rejuvenation as an elder statesman of rock.

“Long Train Runnin’: Our Story of The Doobie Brothers,” Tom Johnston and Pat Simmons, 2023

Here’s a novel approach to the autobiographical genre. As founders and primary songwriters, singers and guitarists of The Doobie Brothers, Johnston and Simmons collaborated on this memoir by taking turns telling their versions of the group’s compelling history in 26 chapters — before, during and after the arrival of Michael McDonald. It’s a delightful way to learn how little animosity there was between the various players as the band’s lineup shifted through the years.

“Joni Mitchell:  In Her Own Words,” as told to Malka Marom, 2014

In a different twist on autobiographical literature, Mitchell teamed up with long-time confidante/journalist Malka Marom on three occasions (1973, 1979, 2012) to do lengthy, detailed taped interviews, which have been transcribed in Q&A format, giving readers a great deal of insight into Mitchell’s creative process and her development as a consummate musician.  It was published before her debilitating aneurysm in 2015, withdrawal from the public eye and subsequent revival since 2022, but that’s not the focus here anyway. If you love Joni, or the art of songwriting, this one is a must.

“Play On:  Now, Then and Fleetwood Mac,” Mick Fleetwood, 2014

The drummer, founder and mainstay of Fleetwood Mac throughout its multi-colored history wrote an earlier memoir in 1991, and much of it is recapped here, but with substantial new sections covering the next 20 years.  There hasn’t been too much new to the band’s story since then, so this is about as complete a story as you’ll find of Fleetwood Mac’s various phases (the Peter Green blues years, the Bob Welch-led middle years, and the soap-opera-ish years with Lindsay Buckingham and Stevie Nicks).

“Wild Tales: A Rock & Roll Life,” Graham Nash, 2013

Always the most level-headed of the raging egos in Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, Nash writes thoughtfully and with panache, and a candor that’s almost eyebrow-raising at times.  As a guy who broke into the business with The Hollies back in 1963 and is still active 62 years later, he has a million great anecdotes and stories to share about his songs, his relationships and his passions.  Check it out.

“Rod:  The Autobiography,” Rod Stewart, 2012

I am not much of a fan of Stewart, but he has played a huge role in rock music over his five-decade ride through rock’s headiest years, from obscure vocalist with the Jeff Beck Group in 1968 to interpreter of the Great American Songbook in the 2010s.  Rod’s memoirs openly admit he was a lucky SOB, but the book also spends an inordinate amount of time on the tabloid-ish blonde-women-he-took-to-bed stuff instead of his musical contributions.  Is it because the former outweighs the latter?

“Reckless:  My Life as a Pretender,” Chrissie Hynde, 2015

This is one badass woman, thriving and surviving as a lady rocker at a time when it was almost exclusively men’s terrain.  Her memoirs tell a sometimes harrowing story about growing up in hardscrabble Akron, Ohio, fleeing to London during the birth of punk, and emerging as a victorious pioneer of New Wave in the early ’80s.  No doubt about it — Hynde has moxie.

“Delta Lady: A Memoir,” Rita Coolidge, 2016

My wife met Coolidge at an industry gathering several years ago and was captivated by her spirit, her guile and her still-impressive artistry.  Many rock fans most likely have no clue how connected she was, professionally and personally, to so many pivotal people in the ’70s and ’80s, and consequently, her memoir makes for illuminating reading.

“Who I Am,” Pete Townshend, 2012

The leader of The Who tends to take himself quite seriously, perhaps too much so, and that makes his autobiography kind of exhausting to absorb.  We’ve always known Townshend is a great writer, having contributed numerous cogent commentaries to Rolling Stone over the years, so the high quality of the narrative here comes as no surprise. He reveals with brutal candor pretty much all we’ll ever need to know about The Who’s stormy journey and his life in and out of the band.

“Clapton:  The Autobiography,” Eric Clapton, 2007

A rock idol and guitarist extraordinaire, Clapton led a life full of difficulties, many of them self-inflicted, and his memoir spells it all out in wrenching detail, simultaneously exposing himself as a man who spent years mostly incapable of maintaining anything close to a healthy personal relationship.  Too bad such a fine singer/songwriter and master interpreter of blues music suffered so much in his personal life…but they say that’s what makes the blues so authentic. Clapton has continued to record and perform in the 18 years since this memoir was published, but it will still give you a solid look at his career.

“It’s a Long Story:  My Life,” Willie Nelson, 2015

His first memoirs were published in 1988, and since then his persona has only grown in stature and notoriety.  Consider the title of his 2012 book, “Roll Me Up and Smoke Me When I Die:  Musings From the Road,” which pays perhaps too much attention to his pro-weed stance at the expense of his sizable impact on country (and pop) music over the last 40+ years.  And he is STILL around adding to his legacy at age 92. This one is well worth your time, trust me.

“Sweet Judy Blue Eyes: My Life in Music,” by Judy Collins, 2011

Folk chanteuse Judy Collins took us all off guard when she used her memoir, “Sweet Judy Blue Eyes,” to confess a lifelong battle with alcoholism that tormented her personal relationships as well as her recording career.  Her message:  “You don’t have to be a rock and roller to have substance problems.”  Hers is a fascinating story of a journey through the early folk years into the mid-’70s period of hedonistic pursuits that ultimately took their toll on her.

“Fortunate Son: My Life, My Music,” John Fogerty, 2015

The man who wrote, produced, arranged, sang and played guitars and keyboards on virtually every song Creedence Clearwater Revival ever recorded was also naive and too trusting when it came to business, and it had a profoundly negative impact on his life and career. Fogerty clearly never got over the betrayal of former manager Saul Zaentz, resulting in memoirs that spend far more space on accusations and recriminations than on the brilliant music that is his true legacy. Still, it’s an absorbing study of the highs and lows of one of America’s top bands of the 1968-1972 period.

“Chronicles, Volume One,” Bob Dylan, 2004 

Always the mystery man, Dylan chose to focus this 300-page tome on only three disparate points in his lengthy career: 1961, as he released his debut album; 1970, around the time of “New Morning”; and 1989, the year of his “Oh Mercy” LP. Readers are left salivating for more, much more, but so far, he hasn’t followed through on his plans for Volume Two (or Three). It’s hard to criticize him for choosing to write, record and tour at age 84 instead of completing his memoirs, but I sure would love to read about the many chapters of his life he has thus far ignored.

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A few more titles you might want to explore:

“Secrets of a Sparrow,” Diana Ross, 1993

“Cash,” Johnny Cash, 1997

“Long Time Gone:  The Autobiography of David Crosby,” David Crosby, 1988

“I Me Mine,” George Harrison 1979/2017

“Heaven and Hell:  My Life in the Eagles,” Don Felder, 2007

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I can’t conclude this list without bashing a few titles that I found pretty much unreadable:

Aerosmith vocalist Steven Tyler appropriately titled his excruciating memoirs “Does the Noise in My Head Bother You?”  (Answer:  Damn right it does, Steve, when it consists of incoherent babblings, brash boasts and baffling non sequiturs.)  

David Lee Roth of Van Halen evidently vomited his mindless ramblings into a tape recorder, had it transcribed, and slapped a title on it:  “Crazy From the Heat.”  (You’ve got that right, Dave…)

What’s it all about?

You all know me. I’m pretty transparent about my fascination with song lyrics and the stories behind the songs I love from the ’60s, ’70s and ’80s. I get a kick out of reading when songwriters let us in on what inspired them to write the words they do, the words I have memorized and continue to sing along with whenever I hear them. It gives my listening experience more depth and nuance when I learn how the music evolved or what sparked the idea for the song in the first place.

There’s this guy named Marc Myers who writes for the Wall Street Journal’s Arts section, where he fashioned a series of columns under the rubric “Anatomy of a Song.” He selected what he considered to be iconic tunes, interviewed the songwriters and other principal musicians, and laid out the who, what, where, when and why of these tracks in their own words. In 2016, Myers published a compendium of his columns titled “Anatomy of a Song: The Oral History of 45 Iconic Hits That Changed Rock, R&B and Pop.” (Why 45? Why not 50? Beats me.) I haven’t seen that first volume yet (it’s been ordered), but I came across its 2022 sequel recently, inventively titled “Anatomy of 55 More Songs” (at least I figured out why 55).

The songs hark from 1964-1996, roughly the same period that “Hack’s Back Pages” covers (1955-1990). I have taken the liberty of selecting eight of Myers’s choices and distilling the quotes and anecdotal info he provided to give you compelling tidbits of songs you surely know and revere. At the end, of course, is a Spotify playlist of these songs.

I intend to revisit this idea again in future posts, using Myers’s lists as a guide of sorts (although I’ll certainly be adding a few songs he chose not to include). And if you have a favorite you’d like to know more about, by all means, let me know!

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The Band (from left): Levon Helm, Richard Manuel, Robbie Robertson, Rick Danko and Garth Hudson

“The Weight,” The Band, 1968

Robbie Robertson and his band The Hawks had toured and recorded behind Bob Dylan for three years in the 1965-1967 period, culminating in sessions at a house in Woodstock, New York, which were later released as “The Basement Tapes” in 1975. “We were just finishing up with Bob, and we had already written enough material for an album we would call ‘Music From Big Pink,’ our first album under our new name, The Band,” Robertson remembered. “But we needed one or two more. One evening I picked up my 1951 Martin D-28 acoustic guitar, holding it across my lap. I looked into the sound hole and saw the label that said “Nazareth, Pennsylvania,” where Martin Guitars are made. Seeing the word ‘Nazareth’ unlocked a lot of stuff in my head from Luis Buñuel’s “Nazarín,” a Mexican film about a priest with no possessions who travels the countryside. Once I’d written a few chords, I came up with “Pulled into Nazareth, was feeling ’bout half past dead.” I had no grand plan as to where the story might go, but the first thing he does is ask the first person he sees about a place to stay the night. A very biblical concept. I wanted various characters to unload their burdens on this guy. Take care of my dog, keep my friend company. You know, ‘Take a load off, and put it right on me.'” The song stalled at #63 on US pop charts upon release, but it became an Americana classic and was covered by many artists, including Aretha Franklin, The Staple Singers, Joe Cocker, Smith, Little Feat, King Curtis and Duane Allman, and The Grateful Dead.

“Year of the Cat,” Al Stewart, 1976

Stewart loved to tell stories with his songs, and in 1968 he wrote “Foot of the Stage” about a comedian contemplating suicide. Using the same melody, the song evolved in 1974 into “Horse of the Year,” about Princess Anne, an accomplished equestrian. Neither version was ever recorded. In 1975, Stewart saw a book about Vietnamese astrology, which his girlfriend had left on his kitchen table, open to a chapter entitled “Year of the Cat,” which was the zodiac sign for that year. “I looked at my ‘Horse of the Year’ song title, which seemed silly, while ‘Year of the Cat’ sounded really good,” he recalled. “Later that day, ‘Casablanca’ came on TV, and it occurred to me that the song should be about some exotic place where something memorable happened, all in the Year of the Cat. The opening line came to me: ‘On a morning from a Bogart movie, in a country where they turn back time.’ It was a novelistic approach, even cinematic. The woman in the song is no one specific, just an abstract fantasy. The guy is trying to make sense of what’s occurring, but she doesn’t give him time for questions.” Keyboardist Peter Wood had written the piano riff that became the introduction, and Stewart decided to add a middle section for various instrumental solos: strings, acoustic guitar, electric guitar and sax. Producer Alan Parsons turned it all into a six-minute tour de force that reached #8 on US pop charts in early 1977.

“Sunshine Superman,” Donovan, 1966

Donovan Leitch has said hearing “Sunshine Superman” brings back fond memories, even though its genesis came from unrequited love. “While in California promoting my first album and single, I met and fell for a woman named Linda,” he said. “We spent several weeks together, but she was still very fragile after breaking up with Brian Jones of The Rolling Stones, with whom she had had a child. So she turned down my marriage proposal, and I returned to England, but I missed her terribly and started writing a song about her. Like many of my songs, it expressed hopeful melancholy. I was miserable that it hadn’t worked out, but I felt optimistic it would someday: ‘When you’ve made your mind up, forever to be mine…’ ” The music used an unusual mix of harpsichord, tambura and acoustic bass and guitar, with half of what would become Led Zeppelin (Jimmy Page and John Paul Jones) on electric guitar and electric bass, respectively, which gave it what became known as a psychedelic pop vibe. Some heard veiled references to LSD (“I could’ve tripped out easy…” and “sunshine” was slang for acid), but Donovan denied it, saying “it was about how I could’ve slipped into depression but didn’t. Superman had nothing to do with the superhero or physical power. It was a reference to Frederich Nietzsche and the evolution of consciousness to reach a higher superman state.” This was all groundbreaking stuff for the US Top 40, and it went on to become his only #1 hit, and one of four Top Ten singles here.

Walter Becker and Donald Fagen of Steely Dan in 1977

“Peg,” Steely Dan, 1977

In 1976, as Donald Fagen and Walter Becker were beginning to work on the songs that would comprise their milestone “Aja” LP the following year, the two songwriters watched the Bette Davis classic, “All About Eve,” which tells the story of an ingenue who manipulates her way to stardom. “Unlike Eve, the main character in our song doesn’t become a star at all but has starlet fever,” Fagen explained years later. “On her way up, she ditches her boyfriend, but he continues to hang around. All the lyrics are from his perspective, and he’s ambivalent, but he’s convinced there will be a karmic reckoning coming: ‘Peg, it will come back to you.’ He’s thinking that her career will tank, and she’ll end up in some cheesy 3-D film or in someone’s favorite foreign movie, which would be a far cry from her original aspirations.” At that point, Fagen and Becker had become meticulous perfectionists in the studio, and they had seven different guitar players come in to try their hand at the solo during the middle break. They finally settled on Jay Graydon’s work, which was actually spliced together from three different takes. Michael McDonald provided the distinctive harmonies, overdubbed three times. “We felt we’d achieved a special simplicity with that song,” Fagen added. “I think it’s easy on the ears.” As the album’s first of three hit singles, it reached #11 in the fall of 1977.

“Doctor, My Eyes,” Jackson Browne, 1972

In 1969, Browne, then just 21 and struggling to write songs on his grandfather’s old upright piano in the Echo Park area of L.A., had a problem. “During the writing process, my eyes became infected and badly encrusted,” he noted. “I could barely see until I went to the doctor and got some medicine, but it took a while for my eyes to return to normal. That was the initial inspiration for the song’s lyrics. But that’s not much of a song, so the eye issue became a metaphor for lost innocence and having seen too much: ‘Doctor, my eyes, tell me what is wrong, was I unwise to leave them open for so long?‘ It became about a slow erosion of idealism.” The first draft of “Doctor, My Eyes” was rather bleak, he recalls, with the narrator adopting an almost fatalistic point of view about life. By the time he recorded the song for his self-titled debut LP in early 1972, Browne had given it a decidedly upbeat arrangement and tempo, driven by lively drums and congas, with killer harmonies by David Crosby and Graham Nash, all of which served to make the still-downbeat lyrics more palatable: “My eyes have seen the years, and the slow parade of fears without crying, /Now I want to understand.” As one reviewer put it, “As with many of Browne’s song, ‘Doctor, My Eyes’ is essentially a spiritual search — no preaching, no conclusions, just searching.” The song put him on the map, becoming a surprise hit at #8 in the spring of 1972.

Blondie (from left): Gary Valentine, Clem Burke, Debbie Harry, Chris Stein and Jimmy Destri

“Rapture,” Blondie, 1980

Singer Debbie Harry and guitarist Chris Stein had found success in the late 1970s as founding members of Blondie, one of the best of the New York-based bands specializing in the punk/New Wave genres then in vogue. “We had become good friends with Bronx-based hip-hop artists like Fab 5 Freddy Brathwaite,” said Harry, “and he invited us to a rap event one night in 1978. We were so impressed and excited by the skill of the emcee’s rhymed lyrics delivered in a freestyle way. We went to several more of these events, jammed into this room with a writhing mass of humanity, dancing and pressing against each other as Chic-inspired disco music played. It wasn’t long before we decided to try our own rap song, and Chris thought it should be called ‘Rapture.'” He came up with the guitar and bass line, and they teamed up on lyrics for the verses based on what they’d seen in The Bronx: “Toe to toe, dancing very close, /Barely breathing, almost comatose, /Wall to wall, people hypnotized…” The band recorded the basic track in the studio, including the verses, but the rap section hadn’t been written yet. Harry and Stein took 20 minutes to figure it out, using Stein’s affinity for B-movies and science fiction imagery (“The man from Mars”), and they recorded it in two takes. The drummer found some tubular bells in the studio and added them to the mix for a haunting, ethereal feel. It became their fourth #1 single in 1981. “It was an homage to what I saw, and to a form that was exciting for us,” said Harry. “I probably should’ve worked on it a little more. It was a bit too sing-song-y and childlike, but it evolved in live performances.”

John Oates and Daryl Hall, 1974

“She’s Gone,” Hall and Oates, 1973

One of this Philadelphia duo’s finest moments, and indeed, one of the great “blue-eyed soul” songs of all time, “She’s Gone” is a classic example of how songwriting partnerships can work. John Oates had a New Year’s Eve date who never showed up, and he was feeling bummed out. “I sat on the sofa strumming my guitar,” he revealed, “and came up with a folky refrain about being stood up that I thought might make a good chorus: ‘She’s gone, I better learn how to face it, /She’s gone, I’d pay the devil to replace her, /She’s gone, what went wrong?’ When he played it for Daryl Hall a couple days later, Hall was intrigued, but felt it sounded like a Cat Stevens song. “I’m much more R&B,” he said, “so I suggested, ‘Let’s try it in another groove.’ I sat down at my electric piano and played the keyboard lick you hear on the intro, and I started hearing the way the song could really build dramatically.” Hall’s first marriage was dissolving at the time, so the “she’s gone” concept struck home and inspired some verses of his own. “Everyone was telling me not to worry, that I was going to be all right,” said Hall, “but none of that was helping,” which prompted these lines: “Everybody’s high on consolation, /Everybody’s trying to tell me what is right for me.” The song was largely ignored on its first go-around in 1973, but after H&O had the #1 hit “Rich Girl,” the label re-released “She’s Gone” in 1976 and it peaked at #7. It’s been covered by R&B artists like Tavares, Lou Rawls and The Bird and the Bee.

“Hello It’s Me,” Todd Rundgren, 1968/1972

Written in 1967 about a painful high school breakup, “Hello It’s Me” was Rundgren’s first attempt at songwriting at the tender age of 17. He had founded the band Nazz, who played cover songs, “but if we wanted a record deal, we needed original material. The chords and melody to this song came pretty quickly, but I wasn’t sure about lyrics yet.” Eventually he decided to focus on a high school crush, a girl he had been crazy about, “but her father hated me on sight, probably because of my long hair, and she was forbidden to see me anymore. I adored her and was heartbroken about it.” When he was writing the lyrics the following year, “I turned the story around so instead of being the victim, I was breaking up with her, which gave me a little power and allowed me to imagine how I might have done things differently. To ease the blow, I wrote a bridge about why the breakup was good for her: ‘It’s important to me that you know you are free, /’Cause I never want to make you change for me…’ I think it’s how I would have wanted to be let down.” Nazz recorded it first on their 1968 debut as a slow ballad, which wasn’t quite the way Rundgren envisioned it. By 1971, he had embarked on a solo career, and as he was putting finishing touches on his astonishing double-album debut, “Something/Anything?”, he updated “Hello It’s Me” with a bouncier pop arrangement. He re-released it as the third single from that album, and it reached #5 in 1973, the commercial high point of his lengthy career.

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