16,99 €
inkl. MwSt.
Versandfertig in über 4 Wochen
8 °P sammeln
Andere Kunden interessierten sich auch für
![The Storyteller]( "The Storyteller")
The Storyteller24,69 €![Utopia Avenue]( "Utopia Avenue")
Utopia Avenue26,00 €![Me Talk Pretty One Day]( "Me Talk Pretty One Day")
Me Talk Pretty One Day33,99 €![Punk]( "Punk")
Punk22,00 €![Ehemänner]( "Ehemänner")
Ehemänner22,00 €![Melodien einer neuen Welt / Die Radioschwestern Bd.2]( "Melodien einer neuen Welt / Die Radioschwestern Bd.2")
Melodien einer neuen Welt / Die Radioschwestern Bd.215,00 €![Ich tauche auf]( "Ich tauche auf")
Ich tauche auf22,00 €
Building on the national bestselling success of Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs, preeminent pop culture writer Chuck Klosterman unleashes his best book yet-the story of his cross-country tour of sites where rock stars have died and his search for love, excitement, and the meaning of death.
For 6,557 miles, Chuck Klosterman thought about dying. He drove a rental car from New York to Rhode Island to Georgia to Mississippi to Iowa to Minneapolis to Fargo to Seattle, and he chased death and rock 'n' roll all the way. Within the span of twenty-one days, Chuck had three relationships end-one by choice, one by chance, and one by exhaustion. He snorted cocaine in a graveyard. He walked a half-mile through a bean field. A man in Dickinson, North Dakota, explained to him why we have fewer windmills than we used to. He listened to the KISS solo albums and the Rod Stewart box set. At one point, poisonous snakes became involved. The road is hard. From the Chelsea Hotel to the swampland where Lynyrd Skynyrd's plane went down to the site where Kurt Cobain blew his head off, Chuck explored every brand of rock star demise. He wanted to know why the greatest career move any musician can make is to stop breathing...and what this means for the rest of us.
For 6,557 miles, Chuck Klosterman thought about dying. He drove a rental car from New York to Rhode Island to Georgia to Mississippi to Iowa to Minneapolis to Fargo to Seattle, and he chased death and rock 'n' roll all the way. Within the span of twenty-one days, Chuck had three relationships end-one by choice, one by chance, and one by exhaustion. He snorted cocaine in a graveyard. He walked a half-mile through a bean field. A man in Dickinson, North Dakota, explained to him why we have fewer windmills than we used to. He listened to the KISS solo albums and the Rod Stewart box set. At one point, poisonous snakes became involved. The road is hard. From the Chelsea Hotel to the swampland where Lynyrd Skynyrd's plane went down to the site where Kurt Cobain blew his head off, Chuck explored every brand of rock star demise. He wanted to know why the greatest career move any musician can make is to stop breathing...and what this means for the rest of us.
Straßenroman: Chuck Klosterman auf den Spuren des Rock'n'Roll
Für eine unkomplizierte Autofahrt quer durch Amerika braucht man ein Navigationsgerät, Kleidung zum Wechseln und CDs. Im Fall von Chuck Klosterman sechshundert Stück davon, und das sind nur die unentbehrlichen aus seiner umfangreichen Sammlung. Ein derart Musiksüchtiger, das wird schnell klar, philosophiert gerne stunden- und seitenlang über die Wichtigkeit von "Led Zeppelin", die prophetischen Qualitäten eines bestimmten "Radiohead"-Albums und die Fähigkeiten des Bassisten der "Sex Pistols": "Daß Sid Vicious etwas nicht konnte, es aber trotzdem wirkungsvoll praktizierte, ist eigentlich alles, was man über Punk Rock wissen muß." Mit Überlegungen dieser Art spickt der amerikanische Musikjournalist Chuck Klosterman "Eine zu 85% wahre Geschichte", in der er von seinem Road-Trip zu den Grabstätten des Rock'n'Roll erzählt.
Eigentlich sollte daraus ein Artikel für die Zeitschrift "Spin" werden. Da der Einunddreißigjährige aber während der Fahrt seinen emotionalen Lebenslauf nachempfindet, was den inhaltlichen Rahmen eines Musikmagazins sprengen würde, verfaßte er lieber ein Buch. Was darin zu den fünfzehn Prozent Erfindungen gehört, ist eigentlich unwichtig, zumal Klosterman diese Einteilung häufiger und nicht immer mit schlagender Logik benutzt: "Hitze ist zu 15% real und zu 85% gefühlt", heißt es da beispielsweise. Mit Gefühlen hat der Musikfanatiker überhaupt seine Schwierigkeiten, denn auf seiner Reise schwelgt er in Hoffnungen und Erinnerungen an gleich drei Frauen. Da ist zum einen Quincy, die erste Freundin und sein "Lieblingsmensch". Weiterhin Lenore, die wunderschöne Verflossene. Und schließlich Diane, die bezaubernde Schwierige, mit der außerhalb der Gefühlsebene so ziemlich gar nichts paßt. Doch diese Ebene ist leider nur auf seiner Seite vorhanden. Die Frauengeschichten sind also verworren, und man möchte einem Mann mit einem solchen Gefühlshaushalt eher zur Einkehr in ein buddhistisches Meditationszentrum raten als zu einer Reise, wie er sie unternimmt. Klosterman sucht das Gartenhaus auf, in dem Kurt Cobain sich erschossen hat, eine Kneipe, in der kurz vor einem Konzert der "Great White" ein tödlicher Brand ausbrach, und das Feld, in welches das Flugzeug von Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens und Big Bopper stürzte - durch Don McLeans "American Pie" ging dieser Tag in die Musikgeschichte ein als "the day the music died".
Das alles ist überraschend wenig morbide, weil Klosterman es immer mit seinem trockenen Humor hinterfragt: "Ich bin mir vollkommen bewußt, daß es, wenn ich mal fünfzig bin, sehr schwer sein wird, irgend jemandem verständlich zu machen, warum ich hoffnungslos in Mississippi durch Straßengräben getrottet bin, in der Hoffnung, die satanische Majestät von Robert Johnson zu erfassen."
In der großen Tradition leicht wahnsinniger Road-Trips hat Klosterman nicht nur merkwürdige Erlebnisse mit Menschen, sondern auch mit Drogen. In diesem Buch zeigt sich einmal mehr, daß nichts langweiliger ist als Erzählungen von verrückten Nächten mit verrückten Leuten, die verrückte Substanzen im Körper haben. Da hilft es auch nicht, daß Klosterman einen reifen Umgang damit zu demonstrieren versucht. Viel lesenswerter sind seine amüsierten Beschreibungen einiger Orte, durch die er auf der Reise kommt. Meistens ist das Beste an dem Aufenthalt, daß er von kurzer Dauer ist, und der Journalist betrachtet die Zurückbleibenden wie ein interessierter Insektenforscher, wenn er zum Beispiel eine Party in seinem Motel mitbekommt. "Das ist offensichtlich die Methode, wie man sich als Highschoolkid in Missoula verlustiert: Man nimmt sich ein Einzelzimmer in einem Hotel und testet aus, wer an Alkoholvergiftung stirbt."
Der Vergleich mit Nick Hornbys "High Fidelity" liegt nahe und wird am Ende des Buches sogar angesprochen, aber er trifft nicht zu. Ebenso wie "Lost in music" von Giles Smith, Stuckrad-Barres "Soloalbum" und alle anderen in den letzten Jahren niedergeschriebenen Liebeserklärungen an die Popwelt thematisiert zwar auch Klosterman die klassischen Fragen wie die nach dem ersten gekauften Album. Aber er bleibt unpersönlicher. Er betrachtet die Musik relativ sachlich, und selbst wenn er eine als katastrophal geschmacklos geltende Band zufällig liebt, ist das nicht einfach eine sympathische Verirrung, sondern muß ausgiebig erläutert werden. Ein bißchen weniger Meta-Ebene hätte es auch getan.
JULIA BÄHR
Chuck Klosterman: "Eine zu 85% wahre Geschichte". Aus dem Amerikanischen von Adelheid Zöfel. S. Fischer Verlag, Frankfurt am Main 2006. 284 S., geb., 18,90 [Euro].
Alle Rechte vorbehalten. © F.A.Z. GmbH, Frankfurt am Main
"Mr. Klosterman makes good, smart company." -Janet Maslin, The New York Times
"Sometimes when you're the co-pilot on a road trip, you're having such a good time talking to your buddy, gazing out the window, and listening to awesome music that you're a little reluctant to stop and get out when you actually reach your destination. That's what reading this book is like." -Gregory Kirschling, Entertainment Weekly
"[Klosterman] writes with real articulacy and feeling about the relationship between rock music and the non-alpha males who worship it. . . He's ferociously clever and ferociously self-deprecating, which makes him a superb companion. . .I absolutely loved it. I don't suppose those guys in tight trousers and makeup have any idea they have such a great chronicler." -William Leith, Evening Standard (London)
"One of America's top cultural critics." -Entertainment Weekly
"As entertaining as it is unpredictable, as madcap as it is occasionally maddening. [Klosterman] is funny, sad, tormented, insightful, ludicrous, and occasionally precious in a way that is all his own. And his observations on American culture, pop and otherwise, are often trenchant and thought-provoking." -Joe Heim, The Washington Post
"An affecting meditation on classic rock, mortality, and girls." -William Georgiades, New York Post
"Klosterman is like the new Hunter S. Thompson. Only it's as if Hunter were obsessed with KISS instead of Nixon." -Kyle Smith, People
"He's killing his artform, in hopes of reviving it." -Noel Murray, The Onion A.V. Club
"Full of sharp observations and dry wit as well as clever musings on society and personal failings." -Eric Fidler, The Miami Herald
"Reading Klosterman is like hanging out with your favorite drinking buddy in college and riffing all night on your pop culture obsessions." -Will Crain, San Francisco Chronicle
"An amusing gazetteer of modern America." -Mark Rozzo, Los Angeles Times
"Riveting and poignant, both side-splitting and stirring. . . Nobody understands identification through pop culture like Chuck Klosterman. . . Killing Yourself to Live is terribly funny, astute, canny and yet incredibly sensitive. I read it. Then read it again. Chuck Klosterman is a fucking genius." -NOW Magazine (Toronto)
"A nice meditation on rock, living fast, dying young, and leaving a pretty corpse." -Chicago Tribune
"With immense affability, [Klosterman] welcomes you into his world from the start. . . It's hard not be instantly won over. . . When you learn that Klosterman is proposing to take you with him on a 6,557-mile road trip across America, all you want to do is leap into the passenger seat, duffel bag in hand, and sing along to 'Horse with No Name' on the car stereo. . . And what a trip it is. . . Even if your world is not exactly his world, it's a pleasure to be along for the ride. Despite his morbid leanings, Chuck is helplessly, hilariously stuck in the land of the living." -The Guardian (UK)
"Dude, better than another fucking Gang of Four reference." -The Village Voice
"Thanks for the ride, Chuck. It was a pleasure." -The New Orleans Times-Picayune
"No one can pull off that particular hybrid of Americana, rock 'n' roll history, and stream-of-consciousness cultural commentary better than Chuck Klosterman: Call it Klostermania." -Radar
"Though undoubtedly enthusiastic about rock 'n' roll, Killing Yourself to Live maintains its integrity, and isn't afraid to knock over a few of music's sacred cows." -Time Out New York
"Strangely compulsive . . . The secret of good journalism, as Twain demonstrated, is tone. Get the tone right and the reporting falls into place. Killing Yourself to Live is an exquisite exercise in tonal control." -The Observer (London)
"If you think about rock music way too much, this book is more fun than a weekend's worth of VH1 specials. It's the literary equivalent of hanging out in a bar with good friends talking about dumb stuff, which is ultimately the only stuff that matters." -San Antonio Express-News
"Filled with stunning, simple little snakebites of truth." -Minneapolis Star Tribune
"Klosterman [can] convincingly argue for enjoying Rod Stewart, KISS, and the Olive Garden. A Midwest native, he treats his late subjects-which include Duane Allman and Sid Vicious-often with humor or exasperation, but no hipster snobbery." -The Boston Phoenix
"Funny and often insightful . . . you'll definitely want to read him." -The Hartford Courant
"An inspired postmodern travelogue." -Philadelphia City Paper
"Although this sounds like a recipe for the worst kind of navel-gazing literature, Killing Yourself to Live is, in fact, hilarious." -The Tampa Tribune
"Thank God Chuck lives the life he does and writes the way he writes about it. It's not just autobiography; it's a vital form of truth, and he's the real thing." -Douglas Coupland
"I can't think of a more sheerly likable writer than Chuck Klosterman and his old-fashioned, all-American voice: big-hearted and direct, bright and unironic, optimistic and amiable, self-deprecating and reassuring-with a captivating lack of fuss or pretension. He's also genuinely funny and I pretty much agree with everything he says." -Bret Easton Ellis
"Sometimes when you're the co-pilot on a road trip, you're having such a good time talking to your buddy, gazing out the window, and listening to awesome music that you're a little reluctant to stop and get out when you actually reach your destination. That's what reading this book is like." -Gregory Kirschling, Entertainment Weekly
"[Klosterman] writes with real articulacy and feeling about the relationship between rock music and the non-alpha males who worship it. . . He's ferociously clever and ferociously self-deprecating, which makes him a superb companion. . .I absolutely loved it. I don't suppose those guys in tight trousers and makeup have any idea they have such a great chronicler." -William Leith, Evening Standard (London)
"One of America's top cultural critics." -Entertainment Weekly
"As entertaining as it is unpredictable, as madcap as it is occasionally maddening. [Klosterman] is funny, sad, tormented, insightful, ludicrous, and occasionally precious in a way that is all his own. And his observations on American culture, pop and otherwise, are often trenchant and thought-provoking." -Joe Heim, The Washington Post
"An affecting meditation on classic rock, mortality, and girls." -William Georgiades, New York Post
"Klosterman is like the new Hunter S. Thompson. Only it's as if Hunter were obsessed with KISS instead of Nixon." -Kyle Smith, People
"He's killing his artform, in hopes of reviving it." -Noel Murray, The Onion A.V. Club
"Full of sharp observations and dry wit as well as clever musings on society and personal failings." -Eric Fidler, The Miami Herald
"Reading Klosterman is like hanging out with your favorite drinking buddy in college and riffing all night on your pop culture obsessions." -Will Crain, San Francisco Chronicle
"An amusing gazetteer of modern America." -Mark Rozzo, Los Angeles Times
"Riveting and poignant, both side-splitting and stirring. . . Nobody understands identification through pop culture like Chuck Klosterman. . . Killing Yourself to Live is terribly funny, astute, canny and yet incredibly sensitive. I read it. Then read it again. Chuck Klosterman is a fucking genius." -NOW Magazine (Toronto)
"A nice meditation on rock, living fast, dying young, and leaving a pretty corpse." -Chicago Tribune
"With immense affability, [Klosterman] welcomes you into his world from the start. . . It's hard not be instantly won over. . . When you learn that Klosterman is proposing to take you with him on a 6,557-mile road trip across America, all you want to do is leap into the passenger seat, duffel bag in hand, and sing along to 'Horse with No Name' on the car stereo. . . And what a trip it is. . . Even if your world is not exactly his world, it's a pleasure to be along for the ride. Despite his morbid leanings, Chuck is helplessly, hilariously stuck in the land of the living." -The Guardian (UK)
"Dude, better than another fucking Gang of Four reference." -The Village Voice
"Thanks for the ride, Chuck. It was a pleasure." -The New Orleans Times-Picayune
"No one can pull off that particular hybrid of Americana, rock 'n' roll history, and stream-of-consciousness cultural commentary better than Chuck Klosterman: Call it Klostermania." -Radar
"Though undoubtedly enthusiastic about rock 'n' roll, Killing Yourself to Live maintains its integrity, and isn't afraid to knock over a few of music's sacred cows." -Time Out New York
"Strangely compulsive . . . The secret of good journalism, as Twain demonstrated, is tone. Get the tone right and the reporting falls into place. Killing Yourself to Live is an exquisite exercise in tonal control." -The Observer (London)
"If you think about rock music way too much, this book is more fun than a weekend's worth of VH1 specials. It's the literary equivalent of hanging out in a bar with good friends talking about dumb stuff, which is ultimately the only stuff that matters." -San Antonio Express-News
"Filled with stunning, simple little snakebites of truth." -Minneapolis Star Tribune
"Klosterman [can] convincingly argue for enjoying Rod Stewart, KISS, and the Olive Garden. A Midwest native, he treats his late subjects-which include Duane Allman and Sid Vicious-often with humor or exasperation, but no hipster snobbery." -The Boston Phoenix
"Funny and often insightful . . . you'll definitely want to read him." -The Hartford Courant
"An inspired postmodern travelogue." -Philadelphia City Paper
"Although this sounds like a recipe for the worst kind of navel-gazing literature, Killing Yourself to Live is, in fact, hilarious." -The Tampa Tribune
"Thank God Chuck lives the life he does and writes the way he writes about it. It's not just autobiography; it's a vital form of truth, and he's the real thing." -Douglas Coupland
"I can't think of a more sheerly likable writer than Chuck Klosterman and his old-fashioned, all-American voice: big-hearted and direct, bright and unironic, optimistic and amiable, self-deprecating and reassuring-with a captivating lack of fuss or pretension. He's also genuinely funny and I pretty much agree with everything he says." -Bret Easton Ellis