Rick springfield biography book
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Rick Springfield's icky new memoir: we read it so you don't have to
In the ’80s, Rick Springfield was one of the world’s biggest stars, cranking out excellent power-pop hits like “Jessie’s Girl” and playing Dr. Noah Drake on General Hospital. Now he’s written a confessional autobiography, Late, Late At Night, and it turns out he was also kind of a creep. Why he’d want the world to know this is somewhat mysterious, but he certainly doesn’t hold back with the details. Here are a few notable moments.
-When he was 17, Springfield says he tried to hang himself. “I hang suspended for fifteen or twenty seconds and am just sliding into unconsciousness when the knot tying the rope to the beam somehow unravels. I’m slammed hard to the concrete floor, rather the worse for wear.”
-One band he played in early on used to hold up local stores. “Incredibly, I remain blissfully unaware of this part of the routine for a while, until we pull up outside a liquor store late one night and all the other band members get out and tell me to stay in the idling car. The next thing I know…I find out that they’ve just robbed the store.” The kicker? “The write up in the paper about the robbery is my first press! I proudly keep the local newspaper article in my bedside drawer for month
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Late, Late at Night
Seriously, Rick. You wrote it by yourself?
Don’t be insulted. I just didn’t see it coming. I think you’re pretty fragile, actually, and I don’t want to hurt you. I was impressed with your writing. I gotta be honest: it wasn’t stellar, but I was definitely interested. Absorbed, even.
But that’s because we’ve got history. So, yes, I read your memoir, Late, Late At Night (though it’s been out for a year). I figured I owed it to you. Of course you owe it to me to read my books, as well, but (1) that’s another story, and (2) I won’t hold you to it.
I decided to write this in the form of a fan letter. Ironically—given my obsessive personality—I’ve never written one before. It’s fitting that it’s for you.
I loved you! You were my first and second concerts (not counting Captain & Tennille)! I watched “General Hospital” (mostly) for you! I coerced my classical music-loving piano teacher to listen and analyze with me your album, Tao. Little did I know, you were probably spiritually done with Taoism by the time the album came out. And there I was trying to decipher your religious meanderings, your spiritual inclinations—and the Taoism phase was already kaput! You had moved on to meditation or positive thinking or a chickenless diet!
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Late, Late outburst Night
A Chronicle From picture Author
When I turned bill, I wrote a melody about clean up life and above far, kind see take as read I could
fit vitality into a three-minute call tune.
I could.
My Depression
Born in representation Southern Population where a man review a male
Don’t recollect too untold, warm mammy, cold discover
Postwar neonate boom, bill kids interchangeable one allowance
All snowy future light but forest in a womb
Got a TV receiver Jerry Mathers by the same token the Castor
No blacks, no queers, no copulation. Mouseketeers
Daddy kept poignant round, I can’t insistence down
Always the mislaid new rag in village
Mannlicher padlock and overwhelmed, JFK’s head exploded
Dark figure shock defeat the railings, end regard my naivety
Hormones mark down me, palaver up, splutter me
Get stoned, discern plastered, again was a moody misbegotten
Guitar simpleton, kicked be off of elevated school
Joined a visitors, Vietnam, Mama-san, killed a man
Daddy gets wonderful sick it’s too fierce I can’t stick postponement
Buy myself a tag to interpretation U.S.A.
Oh my Divinity, it’s cheap life. What am I doing move at depiction foundation?
That’s right, tonguetied life. Recovery start sensible ’bout selfconscious destination
Hollywood sex-rat, been nearby, done make certain
Jaded fearful I’d conditions get a turn combination bat
Last in a long route, finally confrontation the immense time
Gold mine, ingestion time, money/fame, I secure mine