Sing Backwards and Weep
The Sunday Times Bestseller
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4.4 • 19 Ratings
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- $12.99
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- $12.99
Publisher Description
THE SUNDAY TIMES BESTSELLER
"Mark Lanegan-primitive, brutal, and apocalyptic. What's not to love?" NICK CAVE
"A stoned cold classic" IAN RANKIN
'Mark Lanegan writes like he sings, from the pained heart of a damaged soul with brutal honesty' BOBBY GILLESPIE
"Powerfully written and brutally, frighteningly honest" LUCINDA WILLIAMS
A ROUGH TRADE AND MOJO BOOK OF THE YEAR
From the back of the van to the front of the bar, from the hotel room to the emergency room, Mark Lanegan takes us back to the sinister, needle-ridden streets of Seattle, to an alternative music scene that was simultaneously bursting with creativity and saturated with drugs. He tracks the tumultuous rise and fall of Screaming Trees, from a brawling, acid-rock bar band to world-famous festival favourites with an enduring legacy, and tells of his own personal struggles with addiction, culminating in homelessness, petty crime, and the tragic deaths of his closest friends.
Gritty, gripping and unflinchingly raw, SING BACKWARDS AND WEEP is about a man who learned how to drag himself from the wreckage, dust off the ashes, and keep living and creating.
'The most brutally honest rock memoir imaginable' DAILY TELEGRAPH
PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
This overwrought debut memoir from the frontman of the proto-grunge band Screaming Trees is packed with rage, guilt, and the seamy details of a life nearly flushed down the drain. Hating his dead-end upbringing in a Washington logging town, Lanegan became a high school alcoholic with a rock-star attitude who cared only about baseball, "punk rock and getting loaded and laid." His band Screaming Trees gained some success in the Pacific Northwest scene of the late 1980s, garnering accolades from Lanegan's friends (Kurt Cobain among them), and scoring success with singles including "Nearly Lost You" as the grunge scene exploded. Nevertheless, Lanegan hated being in the band calling the group "sick, violent, depressing, destructive, and dangerous." After a few years clean he fell into a spiral of drinking, drug use, and violence. Even while Lanegan's raspy, soulful, Tom Waits like solo output, as in Whiskey for the Holy Ghost,racked up acclaim, he was too busy shooting up, he writes, to enjoy it, and by the mid-1990s, he was dealing heroin and crack to support his growing habits. This dark and engaging epic of destruction is at times undone by Lanegan's obnoxious cockiness, yet it does serve as a raw look at the grunge music scene. Lanegan's fans will wince and delight in this gritty narrative.
