The Stones defined the Sixties? Gimme strength

Libby Purves


Keith Richards’ book makes for fascinating reading, but his rock ’n’ roll lifestyle did not represent my generation

I am, with hosts of others, helplessly riveted to Keith Richards’ memoirs, not to mention his amiable old-rock-codger interview last week with Our Caitlin. And there is a joyful absurdity about the fact that the Times leader that in 1967 “saved” the stoned Stones was by the world’s least rock ’n’ roll figure: William Rees-Mogg, pacifically quoting Alexander Pope. Somehow, that alliance bolsters one’s faith in common humanity.

However, there is one thing in Richards’ reminiscences that both amuses and irritates, and that is the assumption by him — and his mates — that their particular style of life and attitude said it for all their peers. Rather than just being stimulating musicians and entertainers, the latest crop of artists in a changing culture, they thought they were a zeitgeist personified, the pattern and image of a whole generation.

When the judge peered at Richards and asked whether it was normal for a young girl to be wearing only a fur rug in the presence of eight men, “two of whom were hangers-on and one a Moroccan servant” our hero replied haughtily “We are not old men. We are not worried about petty morals”. When in 1967 the hilarious World in Action interview took place between Mick Jagger and a panel of a Bishop, Jesuit, Attorney-General and Times editor (enjoy it online, do), Richards convinced himself it was “a scouting party waving a white flag to discover whether the new youth culture was a threat to the established order”, and Mick pouted “you’re living in the past”. Richards reckons that the Establishment was “nervous” of a “perceived challenge ... we were targeted by the British Government and its vicious police force, all of which shows how frightened they are”.

Well, up to a point, yes, the Establishment of the time was too much taken in by this nonsense. On that TV interview you see polite, slightly bemused men — not all old, the Times editor wasn’t even 40 — taking Jagger rather too seriously as he drawls half-formed views like a flattened Prince Charles (“one doesn’t ask for responsibilities, perhaps one is given responsibilities”).

They listen to his claim that owing to mass communication “this generation is very different to the others”, and refrain from pointing out that cinema and radio were creating international stars for a good half-century before him. Jagger indeed seems not all that bright: he says portentously at one point “this country is working towards complete state monopoly of radio and television” when in fact, in 1967, it was moving in exactly the opposite direction, with a flock of vigorous ITV companies including the one he was being filmed by, and a growing lobby for legal commercial radio, which began only seven years later.

Well, let it pass: the poor chap took a lot of drugs. But occasionally it needs to be pointed out that entertainers, and the instant cultural “historians” who excitably comment on them, tend to fall into the trap of thinking that they represent a whole generation. We enjoy thinking that: it makes history feel tidier. But when a modern writer such as Caitlin Moran speaks of “the long party that was the Sixties”, it behoves us survivors — albeit underage at the time — to clear our throats and say “A-hem. Actually, sweetie, it wasn’t really quite like that”.

The lifestyle of Richards, Jagger, Faithfull, Pallenberg, Jones and the rest was a privileged minority amusement, just like the inter-war Mitford debutante set, the Bright Young Things of the twenties or the court of Marie Antoinette. The young of the Sixties bought and liked the Rolling Stones’ music, but not necessarily their lives or their views on how to be happy. Note that in a poll of young people over the Stones’ drug prison sentence, 85 per cent said they deserved it.

The clothes, the songs, the hairstyles caught on; the instinct to judge and condemn sexual “immorality” slowly and benignly atrophied for plenty of reasons, but the majority of the Sixties generation quietly got on with courting, marrying, learning trades, doing degrees in biochemistry and saving up for Habitat sofas. There were strong counter-currents too: while those patriarchal rockers treated girl groupies as disposable bits of tail, a fierce self-aware feminism was rising elsewhere. While Jagger claimed his only priority as a young man was “to have as good a time as possible”, his exact contemporary Des Wilson was pioneering the housing charity Shelter. While Pallenberg and Faithfull worked their way through the bands’ bedrooms, other girls of their generation were being forced by disgrace and penury to give away illegitimate babies.

Rich entertainers are only signposts, and unreliable ones at that. When The Who sang “Hope I die before I get old!” we all bopped happily along but didn’t really hope any such thing. Any more than admirers of Amy Winehouse’s music or Kate Moss’s clothes really want those women’s lives and habits. Only the silliest and most unconfident girls beyond the age of 16 regard Madonna or Gaga as role models. They’re fun images, that’s all: carefully crafted dolls to put away when it’s time for work. Far more typical of any rock “generation” is a wistful wannabe like Tony Blair, who rapidly casts aside air-guitar dreams to qualify as a lawyer, and never goes to Marrakesh to sprawl on a cushion in a fume-filled basement because it could damage his future political career. The Establishment really needn’t have worried so much about the Stones. They were just a nice decoration, a frill on the edge of real life.
Of course culture changes, not only in fashion and art but in tolerance of the maverick, and that is good. But generational shift is a subtle, slow, nuanced business. The more generations and individuals you get to meet through life, the more irritatingly simplistic it is to have stars claim to represent them, or to hear cultural commentators shrieking that everything has changed.

Face it, Richards — there have been drugtakers, hedonists, and sexual outlaws for centuries. You made more money, from a poorer start, than Byron or de Quincey or the 17th- century Earl of Rochester, because of the record industry. You lived longer than many, thanks to excellent genes. And your music was great.

But honestly, you weren’t so very new. And it was boring old legislators, campaigners, charities, engineers, scientists and administrators who moved the world on. Not you. Sorry. Rock on, though, Keef: you’re only a daydream in our stolid lives, but we still rather love you.

- The Times

Still no tickets being released for the Library gig yet. I heard they are moving it to a larger room and there are security issues being worked out. The ticket price jumped to $58 but is supposed to include a pre-autographed book, no signings will be done that day. It's next week so this 'event' doesnt seem well organized, or maybe it's being handled this way purposely so the general public has no chance! 

The Times needs to proofread their work. It's General Patton, not Paton.

Steel Wheels wrote on Oct 18^th, 2010 at 7:01pm:


This book was just a matter of time, Steel.
I remember her making a big deal about how she so nobely returned the money for the advance of her book because she refused to dish the dirt. My guess is that the quality of the text was not strong enough for a full-length book. If its anything like Tall Tales, it will read like a teenager's diary. The picture thing was probably more feasible. She's never had a problem dishing when they were together, so why now? 


The Exile re-release hoopla and success must have been painful for Jerry because it had nothing to do with her. Even when she's defending Mick's privates, and I do applaud her for trying to come to his defense even though it made it even bigger (so to speak), she has to add that Keith was jealous because she got him off drugs, making it about her. I'm more cynical than you Ginda, I think she's on a mission to convince everyone she was the love of Mick Jagger's life, kind of like Keith. Everyone is obsessed with Mick, it seems.

As one of the world's most beloved guitarists, Keith Richards is celebrated as much for his lifestyle as his musical genius. Our new exhibition,"Before They Make me Run - Portraits of Keith Richards 1963 - 1972," explores the various sides of this quintessential rock star's life. Opening October 23rd, the show is timed to coincide with the release of his much-anticipated autobiography.

Curated by Raj Prem and produced in association with SFAE, the exhibition features the work of some of the world's greatest rock photographers. Included are images from iconic sessions such as Philip Townsend's first ever photographs of the Stones in Chelsea in the early '60s, Gered Mankowitz's moody black-and-white portraits, Michael Cooper's exotic images from Morocco and Joshua Tree, Michael Joseph's "Beggars Banquet" photos, official Stones photographer Ethan Russell's poetic images of the group's infamous 1969 and 1972 US tours, and Dominique Tarle's photos taken during the recording of "Exile on Main St." in the South of France. Additional photographers included are Peter Webb and David Montgomery with their memorable "Sticky Fingers" images, legendary producer Eddie Kramer's intimate recording studio shots with Keith, and Jerrold Schatzberg's photos of Keith dressed in drag.

"Keith Richards is the Prometheus of Rock, carrying with him the fire of Rock and Roll from the previous century into the new millennium," says Theron Kabrich, San Francisco Art Exchange co-owner. "Our exhibition is meant to convey the personal, the iconic and the intimate sides of someone who embodies, more than any living artist, the essence of rock and roll on stage and in life. Keith's the real deal - and he never took a bad picture because of his unabashedly honest personality."

San Francisco Art Exchange


Lots of classic Keef shots...

According to the new issue of the 'Radio Times' out today, there will be a 'Culture Show' special on Keith on BBC 2 (TV) on Thursday, 28th October.

Its not on the BBC's website as yet (probably tomorrow) but the programme runs from 11.50 pm to 12.50 am in Northerm Ireland. It's subject to regional variations around the rest of the UK but it's usually shown around 7 pm and again at around 11 pm in England and Scotland, with Wales & NI just getting the later broadcast.

Will post the broadcast times when I get them.

Gazza wrote on Oct 19^th, 2010 at 10:06am:

According to the BBC it's on from 7-8 PM.

CBS Sunday Morning will be airing a Keith interview this Sunday, 10/24.

Hopefully they'll archive it for on-line viewing...


The Examiner

 

left shoe shuffle wrote on Oct 19^th, 2010 at 9:30am:

I hope to go check this out. Unfortunately I can't make the opening night. But when I get back from vacation I'll check it out. The SFAE always puts on great exhibits. Very Stones friendly.

Keith Richards on Brian Jones, Mick Jagger and His New Book, 'Life'

Posted: Today | By David Fricke





"Memory lane isn't particularly my avenue," Keith Richards says at the start of our conversation about Life, the Rolling Stones guitarist's new autobiography, written with James Fox and out on October 26. "I'm always looking forward. Suddenly you're pulled up short: 'Oh, I'll do the book.' Sure, great. Then you realize what it entails." Richards grins, then slumps his shoulders with mock exhaustion. "I understand more about authorship and the agonies," he adds with a raspy sound that is part irritated growl, part triumphant laughter.

For the next hour, Richards — speaking for the introduction to Rolling Stone's exclusive publication of excerpts from Life in issue 1116  — goes back through the process of writing the book, sifting through memories and confronting the roughest terrain in his past: the drugs; his madhouse life with the Stones, on and off the road; and his complex relationship with singer Mick Jagger. What follows are additional passages from that interview.

Blood From a Stone

Why did you finally decide a book was worth doing?

There have been so many books out. Some of them are very good. Some of them ... [snarls] But they have all been done at different times, from different points of view. I thought it was time to pull it all together, at least from my point of view.

It was James Fox who laid the concept out, the way he felt comfortable telling the story. Basically, I followed his guidance. James would have to needle me: "What happened with ...?" But when he would ask me a question, it would spring an idea and lead me, via connections, to the answer of some other question he had. It was all kind of disconnected, the way it worked. But that's the way the brain is — especially mine.

There are voices other than yours in the book — eyewitness accounts from friends and fellow troublemakers. Your son Marlon talks extensively about how, as a small boy, he was your personal road manager on those hair-raising Seventies tours. Were you shocked or surprised by how others saw you at your wildest and worst?  

I wasn't, because that's really the way it was. Marlon grew up on the road. It was an interesting experiment. The fact that he's turned into a perfect English gentleman is pretty amazing. But he grew up hustling on those tours. And he was very sharp at it. If you wanted something, he'd be like, "Alright, that's half a dollar." Whether that was a good way to bring a kid up, he was the one who made that choice. He went to school when he wanted to, and we always had tutors and stuff. But he was learning life on the road. It was an interesting education. I wish I had been brought up that way. My childhood was very boring.

Not according to the book: Two of the most fascinating characters in Life are your mother, Doris, and your grandfather, Gus. You seem to be a combination of both: her strength and clarity and Gus' bohemian ways with women and music.

My mother was an extension of him, in many ways, which was why it was very easy to hang with my grandfather. It was like being with Mum — the same sense of humor, the same music. I could travel between those generations.  

Your mother had a phrase, and variations on it, whenever you got into trouble or complained about something: "This is life, something we can't fight." Is that where the title of your book comes from?  

Funny enough, I hadn't connected it to that. Maybe it's like a hand-me-down. But that was basically her attitude. When things got out of hand, or you didn't know what to do, she'd just say "That's life."

How much do you think being an only child — having a need to bond — influenced your relationships with the other Stones, especially Mick?  

With Mick, it was basically music. We had been playmates — we happened to go to the same school for awhile. But it was me seeing him again [on the train, as a teenager], with the [blues] records, that was the bombshell — to suddenly find we were both madly in love with the blues, churning to get to the bottom of this thing. It was the missionary feeling.

Forming the band was kind of weird. Because, in a way, it formed itself. You didn't have to do much about it.

Through the Past, Darkly

You and Mick started the Stones with Brian Jones, and in Life you are frank about Brian's self-destructive flaws. You talk about his importance in the early days, but by the time of his death, any sentiment you had for him is gone.  

I enjoyed his company, and I tried incredibly hard, in 1966, to pull him back into the group. He was flying off. But my attempts to bring Brian back into focus were a total failure. After that ... [long pause] He did some despicable things. The man was failing. He had been a strong man, but he was wiping himself out. Brian demanded, you have to understand. And in a band like this, you also have to be supportive and giving. Having to deal with his jealousy, with Mick and me writing the songs, when you're working 300-odd days a year — it becomes intolerable, and you can get really nasty about it. I tried to be fair to him. But to be honest, he was a bit of a bastard. And it doesn't surprise me that he came to a sticky end.

What was it like to relive your relationship with Mick? You've talked a lot about it in interviews. But this is the permanent record.  

It was quite difficult. Because the relationship changed so much over the years. It's had its ups and downs, and sometimes you wonder why it was worth it.

What I really regretted was when we started to live apart. Mick and I could write so easily when he was next door, or on the next floor. That's when things exploded. After Exile on Main Street, we had to learn a whole new way of being — of putting things together that were so disparate, coming together after several months and saying, "Well, have you got anything?" then working it up. It was difficult — and I'm sure it was for Mick too. If you're stuck together in a band, I could just walk next door in the middle of the night and go, "Mick, I've got an idea."

But you also changed. Your drug use became a complicating factor.  

Our lifestyles changed. Obviously, knowing each other for so long, I understood certain parts of what he was going through. And he understood perfectly well what I was doing. By then, we had been backstage together for years. Everybody knew what was what.

At the same time, I was still writing the songs. I was doing my end of it.

Was it hard to go back over the wreckage of your drug use — especially the damage on your family? One of the most dramatic portions of the book is when you leave your partner, Anita Pallenberg, because of her own harrowing addiction.  

I had no intention of leaving the mother of my children. But you gotta believe me that there was no option. And thank God she's still one of my best friends. We've been through the mill. And she admits she could be Vampirella when she wanted.

It was tough. At the same time, there is an underlying love that goes beyond all of that other stuff. I can say, "I love you, I just won't live with you." And we're now proud grandparents, which we never thought we'd ever see.

That relates, in the same way, to Mick. The underlying love is effected. But it's not sundered.

How would you describe the Mick Jagger who comes out at the end of the book?  

Mick and I are still great friends and still want to work together. Both of us know things about each other — and are still finding out. There is no final judgment on one or the other. To me, it's the miracle of juggling. You gotta juggle these weird things that don't actually come between you, but they are just there. There's no point in me saying, "The Stones have gotta go to work" if Mick doesn't feel like it. It's tiring trying to get everyone's enthusiasm up at the same time. And a lot of times it isn't there. But when it is, it's fantastic. And you have to pick those moments, in order to still be the Stones again.

When will that be? Is there talk of something — an album, a tour — next year?

We're whispering — I wouldn't say talking. I'm getting hints. And I'm always ready. Mick and I spoke about a month ago in New York. It's at that mumbling stage. But I had some outtakes from the last sessions we did [for A Bigger Bang] and said, "Just to jog your memory ..." So there's interaction. You don't want to push it too hard.  

Do you feel like the catalyst — that it would be less likely to happen if you weren't so committed to the Stones as a working band?  

Maybe, in that if there is a hint that they want to work, it drifts to me as a touchstone. Because they know I will say yes. I'm confirming what is already sort of confirmed in their minds. What I hope is that when we take these extended gaps, usually, when we come back together, something different comes out of it. You never know what that will be until you get there, when the ingredients are mixed.

Now that you have written a book, do you have any stories left to tell?

Well, life goes on. That's the story so far.

Rolling Stone

Some pointed questions from David Fricke.

Hope those whispers become a roar.

Soon... 

left shoe shuffle wrote on Oct 19^th, 2010 at 7:27pm:


Ah so Keith had more stuff on hand for BB? Can't be too good unfortunately based on what they threw on there...

Steel Wheels wrote on Oct 20^th, 2010 at 11:33am:

Yeah I've heard not a lot of people have had success getting tickets to that.