Rod: The Autobiography
Rod Stewart
Language: English
Pages: 400
ISBN: 0307987329
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
The extraordinary life and career of music legend Rod Stewart, in his own words for the first time.
With his soulful and singular voice, narrative songwriting, and passionate live performances Rod Stewart has paved one of the most iconic and successful music careers of all time. He was the charismatic lead singer for the trailblazing rock and roll bands The Jeff Beck Group and The Faces, and as a solo artist, the author of such beloved songs as "Maggie May," "Tonight’s the Night," "Hot Legs," "Da Ya Think I’m Sexy?," "Young Turks," "Forever Young," and "You Wear It Well." Now after more than five decades in the spotlight, he is finally ready to take a candid and romping look back at his life both on and off the stage. From his humble British roots to his hell-raising years on tour with his bandmates, not forgetting his great loves (including three marriages and eight children) and decades touring the world, Rod delivers a riveting ride through one of rock's most remarkable lives.
From the Hardcover edition.
I tried to take up yoga. A man came to the house to teach me the fundamentals. As I was attempting to master a beginner’s-level “balancing table” position, I fell over into the fireplace. (Surely if God had meant us to do yoga, he would have put our heads behind our knees.) And I tried therapy. This had never really appealed to me. Alana had convinced me to go with her for counseling a couple of times when our relationship was in trouble, but I hadn’t seen any lasting results from it. For me, it
pal.” Crack! The white ball leaped away from White’s cue, missed the red ball, and smacked against Penny’s jaw. From the sound of it, I was imagining broken teeth, though actually she was only bruised. White was profusely apologetic but I was furious. I said, “We’re leaving.” And we did, amid much frostiness. Our devotion to each other grew over a series of romantic voyages abroad. Very early on, I whisked Penny away to the Bahamas for a holiday with a group of eight old friends of
following Thursday morning, I’m woken at home some time after eleven by my mum. Apparently, Geoff Wright is on the phone, wondering where I am. Well, actually, in bed is where I am, and slightly the worse for wear after a Hoochie Coochie Men gig the previous night. But I get downstairs to the phone and Geoff reminds me where I ought to be, which is Broadhurst Gardens. The band is in the studio, everyone’s waiting: no singer. “Jump in a taxi,” says Geoff. “I can’t,” I say. “It’ll cost a
boiled to an end in the summer of 1966 when the band was offered a tempting four-week residency at a club called La Papagayo in St. Tropez. Auger must have been over the moon at the prospect. Not only was he not going to have to drop off anyone in Vauxhall for a whole month, but he was finally going to get a holiday. And in the south of France, to boot. I think Long John really fancied the idea as well. The composers Leslie Bricusse and Lionel Bart were going to be in the area at the same time,
couple of times in that period. But fuck it: I was the son of a north London plumber for whom life hadn’t necessarily earmarked a spell of splendor in the California sunshine alongside a Swedish film star, and bugger me if I wasn’t going to have some fun and worry about forgiving myself for it later, if ever. That Christmas, Britt and I went to a party in Beverly Hills thrown by Cubby Broccoli, the producer of the Bond movies. It had been something like eighty degrees during the day, but the