I've always admired Willie Nelson as more of a poet and songwriter than an actual singer himself. Kinda the same way I feel about the great Bob Dylan. But sadly, this memoir fell a little flat. I expected a little more excitement from one of the original heathens of country music. He definitely pays his homage to the great cowboys and singers that influenced him, gives great due respect to his family and even to his wives, but something was still missing. Maybe he's just too much of a gentleman to give too much away. Or maybe it's all already out there! Everybody knows he loves pot, used to love to chase women and had problems with the IRS. Throw in a couple of anecdotal stories with famous people, and you're pretty much done here. Easy summer read though, so there's that.
I did appreciate that he made clear that artists today need to get behind something he has always known: you make your money on the road. That old-school road-dogging band life is just where it's at for some people. I don't envy his wives, but for him, I understand.
