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Roger Daltrey: Thanks a lot Mr Kibblewhite Reviews

Roger Daltrey: Thanks a lot Mr Kibblewhite by Roger Daltrey

Roger Daltrey: Thanks a lot Mr Kibblewhite: My Story

Roger Daltrey

3.87 out of 5

5 reviews

Imprint: BLINK Publishing
Publisher: Bonnier Books Ltd
Publication date: 18 Oct 2018
ISBN: 9781788700283

This is the story of My Generation, Tommy and Quadrophenia, of smashed guitars, exploding drums, cars in swimming pools, fights, arrests and redecorated hotel rooms. But it is also the story of how that post-war generation redefined the rules of youth. Out of that, the modern music industry was born - and it wasn't an easy birth. Money, drugs and youthful exuberance were a dangerous mix.

  • The GuardianBook of the Year
4 stars out of 5
Fiona Sturges
1 Dec 2018

"vivid, atmospheric and funny"

A more responsible Daltrey emerges during his musical career, forever playing the straight man to his more rambunctious bandmates, and the overwhelming sense is of a man on the outside looking in. His autobiography is vivid, atmospheric and funny, and, because of his aversion to mind-altering substances, it’s probably one of the more reliable accounts of life in one of the world’s biggest rock bands.

Reviews

4 stars out of 5
30 Nov 2018

"Daltrey’s peculiar swaggering selflessness is the key to this book, and a key... to the Who"

Moon dies; Entwistle dies. Daltrey and Townshend endure. “Years passed.” It takes a robust lack of vanity to include that sentence in your own autobiography. But Daltrey’s peculiar swaggering selflessness is the key to this book, and a key (one of four) to the Who. “Most of those songs were written from a place of pain, as well as spirit. I struggled at first to find that place and you can hear the struggle. But then I inhabited it.” Cripes, as Daltrey might say. Cor blimey. How many rock memoirs actually have a meaning?

3 stars out of 5
10 Nov 2018

"The recollections of the most sober member of the Who are distinctly hazy"

Roger Daltrey’s engagingly chatty memoir reads like a series of battles: some physical, some psychological, some financial. During his rags-to-riches rise from working-class west London war baby to mansion-dwelling singer with one of Britain’s loudest and most enduring rock supergroups, the Who frontman has had to square up to school bullies, hostile teachers, domineering bandmates, money-grabbing managers and more...The skimpy, rushed feel of Thanks a Lot Mr Kibblewhite is partly redeemed by Daltrey’s warm, humane, easygoing manner and flashes of self-deprecating humour. But any Who fans expecting fresh in-depth revelations will find little new in these hazy accounts of half-remembered battles fought long ago on faraway fields.
 

4 stars out of 5
Victoria Segal
28 Oct 2018

"Daltrey’s earthy, distinctly untrippy autobiography,"

Daltrey was a child of a keep-calm-and-carry-on era, and this stocky, muscular narrative reveals a no-nonsense approach to his life and work.
Unlike guitarist Pete Townshend, he wasn’t a sensitive art student with a thirst for the conceptual; unlike drummer Keith Moon, he wasn’t a rampaging idiot. (Bassist John Entwistle, who died in 2002, is largely characterised as “spiteful”.) Townshend once described the band as “three geniuses and just the singer”, a jibe Daltrey reports with mild umbrage (“Thanks, Pete”), but he also argues that they were more than the sum of their parts. Townshend created the songs and destroyed the guitars (an accident with a low ceiling the first time, reports Daltrey wryly, not deliberate Gustav Metzger-like art), but the singer’s meaty vocal energy and charisma also drove the Who’s evolution from pop-art mods to rock-opera pioneers.

4 stars out of 5
Ray Connolly
25 Oct 2018

"His is a candour rarely seen in a memoir"

His is a candour rarely seen in a memoir, as is his obvious contempt for the drugginess backstage at Woodstock in 1969.

‘Everything was laced with LSD . . . even the ice cubes . . . I was fine right up until the moment I decided to have a cup of tea. That’s how they got me. A nice cup of hallucinogenic tea!’