Akkurat nå 72
Det er lørdag, det er formiddag, jeg drikker te og overser enkelte kostholdsråd mens jeg spiser jordbæryoughurt med havregryn. Jeg har satt et oliventre i dusjen og dusjet det med alle bladene og stammen i håp om å hjelpe det å overleve vinteren til det kan komme ut igjen til våren.
This brings me to Brian, who played guitar very well and was a brittle devil. We knew that because of many things, not least that he spent an inappropriate amount of time beating up his girls in the next room. I'm not proud of that. Keith gives himself (too much, I think) credit for rescuing Anita, eventually, from Brian; but that of course was years later. Earlier, we both listened to or watched his cruelty, in the bedroom and elsewhere; we paid no attention to the half-dozen kids he'd fathered and ignored the savagery he accomplished on tour. We didn't know better; we were priapic jackals ourselves, fucking even one another's girlfriends if they got left, as it were, unattended. But it was wrong to have let Brian do that, and Keith should have owned up to this in the book.
What were you doing at 25? We didn't know about depression, insanity, addiction, or what acid might have done to him. It's unclear to me whether the drugs diminished his ability to contribute or whether the drugs were in effect a way to cover up something that wasn't there.
Young Marlon, then perhaps 10, saw Anita, covered in blood, coming down the stairs distraught, and God knows it could have been Marlon playing with the gun. Or: Keith's driven his car off the road (again) with Marlon inside (again).In his book Keith stands back, amazed at the things that just … happen to him.
(en ikke spesielt god men likevel informativ artikkel om Marlon)
And for heaven's sake. No sooner did Keith kick heroin than Charlie took it up. In the book Keith blames me for not touring during the 1980s. I was quoted, unfortunately, saying words to the effect of "the Rolling Stones are a millstone around my neck." This hurt Keith's feelings. He thinks it was a canard flung from a fleeting position of advantage in my solo career, the failing of which he delights in. He's not appreciating the cause and effect. Can you imagine going on tour with an alcoholic, a junkie, and a crackhead? Millstone wasn't even the word. I spent much of the 1980s looking for a new career, and it didn't work. If I had it to do over again I would only try harder.
So those two things I think, are important. Our bond; his talent. We blink at that point, and go 40 years forward, and he has written a book that says, essentially, that I have a small dick. That I am a bad friend. That I am unknowable.
It is a fair charge that I have become less tolerant in these matters over the decades. In our organization, inside this rather unusual floating circus we call home, I am forced into the role of martinet, the one who gets blamed for silly arbitrary rules. (Like, for a show in front of 60,000 people for which we are being paid some $6 or $7 million for a few hours' work, I like to suggest to everyone that we start on time, and that we each have in place a personal plan, in whatever way suits us best, to stay conscious for the duration of the show.)
It is said of me that I act above the rest of the band and prefer the company of society swells. Would you rather have had a conversation with Warren Beatty, Andy Warhol, and Ahmet Ertegun … or Keith, his drug mule Tony, and the other surly nonverbal members of his merry junkie entourage?
The reviewers, who idolize Keith, don't ask why this is all in here. We have rarely spoken of such things publicly, and tangentially even then. We don't talk about it in private, either, and, no, he hasn't been in my dressing room in 20 years. I thought we both learned that there is no point in sharing anything at all with the press, save a few tidbits for the upbeat The Stones are back in top rocking form! article that accompanies each of our tours. I think Keith never appreciated the tedious hours I had to spend with Jann Wenner to accomplish that.
Hele artikkelen i Slate, anbefales for alle om enn bare vagt interessert. i rockhistorie, livet, tilbakeblikk, endringer.
Fredrik Wandrup om Keith Richards biografi
Og enda har jeg ikke gått ut for å se om det er noen aviser jeg vil hente inn. Enda har jeg ikke gått en tur på gymmen, enda har jeg ikke begynt å fyre meg opp til Gotan Project-konserten i kveld, (jeg har hørt dem før en gang.)
Jeg leser på Slate, via Twitter:
Jeg leser Mick Jaggers svar til Keith Richards selvbiografi, forkortet i massevis av meg:This brings me to Brian, who played guitar very well and was a brittle devil. We knew that because of many things, not least that he spent an inappropriate amount of time beating up his girls in the next room. I'm not proud of that. Keith gives himself (too much, I think) credit for rescuing Anita, eventually, from Brian; but that of course was years later. Earlier, we both listened to or watched his cruelty, in the bedroom and elsewhere; we paid no attention to the half-dozen kids he'd fathered and ignored the savagery he accomplished on tour. We didn't know better; we were priapic jackals ourselves, fucking even one another's girlfriends if they got left, as it were, unattended. But it was wrong to have let Brian do that, and Keith should have owned up to this in the book.
What were you doing at 25? We didn't know about depression, insanity, addiction, or what acid might have done to him. It's unclear to me whether the drugs diminished his ability to contribute or whether the drugs were in effect a way to cover up something that wasn't there.
Young Marlon, then perhaps 10, saw Anita, covered in blood, coming down the stairs distraught, and God knows it could have been Marlon playing with the gun. Or: Keith's driven his car off the road (again) with Marlon inside (again).In his book Keith stands back, amazed at the things that just … happen to him.
(en ikke spesielt god men likevel informativ artikkel om Marlon)
And for heaven's sake. No sooner did Keith kick heroin than Charlie took it up. In the book Keith blames me for not touring during the 1980s. I was quoted, unfortunately, saying words to the effect of "the Rolling Stones are a millstone around my neck." This hurt Keith's feelings. He thinks it was a canard flung from a fleeting position of advantage in my solo career, the failing of which he delights in. He's not appreciating the cause and effect. Can you imagine going on tour with an alcoholic, a junkie, and a crackhead? Millstone wasn't even the word. I spent much of the 1980s looking for a new career, and it didn't work. If I had it to do over again I would only try harder.
So those two things I think, are important. Our bond; his talent. We blink at that point, and go 40 years forward, and he has written a book that says, essentially, that I have a small dick. That I am a bad friend. That I am unknowable.
It is a fair charge that I have become less tolerant in these matters over the decades. In our organization, inside this rather unusual floating circus we call home, I am forced into the role of martinet, the one who gets blamed for silly arbitrary rules. (Like, for a show in front of 60,000 people for which we are being paid some $6 or $7 million for a few hours' work, I like to suggest to everyone that we start on time, and that we each have in place a personal plan, in whatever way suits us best, to stay conscious for the duration of the show.)
It is said of me that I act above the rest of the band and prefer the company of society swells. Would you rather have had a conversation with Warren Beatty, Andy Warhol, and Ahmet Ertegun … or Keith, his drug mule Tony, and the other surly nonverbal members of his merry junkie entourage?
The reviewers, who idolize Keith, don't ask why this is all in here. We have rarely spoken of such things publicly, and tangentially even then. We don't talk about it in private, either, and, no, he hasn't been in my dressing room in 20 years. I thought we both learned that there is no point in sharing anything at all with the press, save a few tidbits for the upbeat The Stones are back in top rocking form! article that accompanies each of our tours. I think Keith never appreciated the tedious hours I had to spend with Jann Wenner to accomplish that.
Hele artikkelen i Slate, anbefales for alle om enn bare vagt interessert. i rockhistorie, livet, tilbakeblikk, endringer.
Fredrik Wandrup om Keith Richards biografi
Og enda har jeg ikke gått ut for å se om det er noen aviser jeg vil hente inn. Enda har jeg ikke gått en tur på gymmen, enda har jeg ikke begynt å fyre meg opp til Gotan Project-konserten i kveld, (jeg har hørt dem før en gang.)
innlegg av fr.martinsen på
11:08
4 Kommentarer:
Men jeg har forstått det riktig, at brevet fra Mick Jagger er fiksjon, skrevet av journalisten? Synes ikke de var helt tydelig på Slate.
Hm. Da har vi en tredje tolkning.
Jeg mente at det var en finurlig måte av Mick Jagger å få publisert noe uten å "gå ut" med det. At han sendte dokumentet til musikeren Bill Wyman som leverte det til den delen av seg som er skribenten Bill Wyman.
Kollegaen min mente jeg ikke hadde lest godt nok, at det er mer faktisk enn jeg trodde. At Mick bare ville levere til arkivet men at det er to Bill Wymans, en musiker og en journalist og at vår Bill ikke har gjort journalistiske ting. At det var UPC (leveringsbyrå) som hadde rota.
I kommentarene ser det ut til at det er enighet om at alt bare er tull, og at den introen om UPC-leveringen også er tull. Men hvem vet, hvem vet!
Her blir det tydelig at det er en fiksjon ja, men interessant historie:
The piece I wrote about Keith Richards’ autobiography–“Please Allow Me To Correct a Few Things”–got a lot of attention, which I’m happy about ’cause it took a lot of work!
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