Neko Case

Neko Case's memoir is as notable for what it is not as much as for what it is. It is not a brag. It is not a wistful remembrance of past times. It is not soothing. It is neither humble nor arrogant. It does not describe her songwriting process. In fact, it doesn't talk about music much at all.

It does talk about what a musical career is like as a job. She wants you to know it's often grubby, exhausting, and unromantic. But the focus of her memoir isn't music, it's her childhood and how it show more broke her almost beyond repair, and how she patched herself together and made herself a strong woman despite.

She is fierce. Most people who know of her should know that already. This is not one of those books that are written with the self-deprecating wisdom that comes with years of therapy. She writes of wanting to kill her mother even though her mother is already dead.

There are a lot of surprises for fans here. For me, one was that "Neko Case" is the same name as she had in childhood. (I'm sensitive to names and thought this was such a cool one that it must be a stage name, particularly after I learned that her ethnic background is Slavic.) Another was that her relationship with her mother, and the psychic damage that it continually reinflicted, continued well into her career, at least as late as the release of Middle Cyclone. I suppose I had always thought that people who made masterworks were able to do so because they'd surmounted their major life problems. A silly thing to think, really.

But she's stronger still now, and the evidence of that is this book, which is a damned brave statement, even coming from someone not known for her timidity. I admire it, and think that it might be appreciated even (or maybe especially?) by those who aren't very familiar with Case's work as a musical artist, because they can focus more on the human story that's being told, instead of trying to mine the text for clues about their favorite songs, or figure out the identity of those whose names were changed. It is a powerful, frightening, sad, angry, triumphant story, and well told. show less

I discovered Neko Case almost twenty years ago, in 2006. I’d caught a snippet of her singing on NPR, and I was captivated by her voice, which was soaring, smoky, sweet. I also remember her sense of humor when she was speaking with the interviewer. The song was “Hold On, Hold On”, from her album “Fox Confessor Brings the Flood”. I immediately went to the music store and purchased it, then, subsequently, fell in love with it. The songs were sharp-witted, humorous, melancholic, show more tragic, sad and joyful. The downcast beauty of her music was deeply moving.

However, this post is about her memoir. It is written with candor, wit, bravery, intelligence and heartbreak. It begins with the author as a young child, born to two teenagers who were largely absent throughout her childhood. (During an interview, she quipped that she’d been “raised by two dogs and a space heater”). She spent her early years lonely and left to her own devices. It’s no surprise that once she grew older, she faced more hardship, trauma and loss.

At age fifteen, she left home to pursue her dream of becoming a musician. From there, she encountered yet more adversity, mostly resulting from being a woman in a male-dominated world of the music industry and the entrenched misogyny that was omnipresent. She literally had to claw her way to the top, though “top” could mean anything, really.

But she made it.

This memoir is a testimony to the author’s resilience, grit and courage. Neko is passionate, tough and tender, humble and wise. She frequently acknowledges her private fears and vulnerabilities. She is utterly human, humane, an old soul. Her writing is incisive and clear-eyed; her storytelling chops are par excellence.

Highly recommended. I loved this book immensely. show less

This is one of the great celebrity memoirs I’ve listened to. It's rich with insight, honesty, and real reflection. Most of the book takes place long before Neko Case became a recognizable name, and that’s part of what makes it so interesting. I came to the memoir as a longtime fan. I fell for The New Pornographers on the family computer (I wore out Mass Romantic), and Neko’s solo work, especially I Wish I Was the Moon. I had no idea the difficult childhood she had. She shares the show more challenges of her upbringing with a perfect balance of edge and empathy, neither overly sentimental nor cynical. Her narration of the audiobook is beautiful. She’s calm, direct, and occasionally devastating. Her voice carries the same soul as her music. She talks about creative doubt, survival, anger, identity, and love with a tone that’s sharp, funny, and relatable. Her quirkiness, her relationship with horses, and her views on feminism all fit together. If you’re already a fan of her music, you know she’s a writer, and this medium works for her, too. Give it a listen! show less

I wish this book had focused more on singer-songwriter Neko Case's music career, but that can't be understood apart from her dismal childhood that featured a neglectful father and a withholding mother - so withholding in fact, that she disappeared for several years and let second-grader Neko believe that she had died of cancer. Music was Neko's primary escape from feelings of emptiness and worthlessness. She found it easy to perform onstage because it wasn't much of a risk for someone so show more insignificant to put herself out there.

Case's narrative is like her lyrics, which have been described as idiosyncratic and cryptic. I hope the audiobook consists Case using her "120-mph fastball" contralto voice to sing all 265 pages. Whether you're familiar with her work or not, her story is unforgettable. show less