Just Parts of His Life

There’s a lot I could say about the Stones. But I'll just leave it that their Beggar’s Banquet to Exile on Main Street run is my favorite of any band. Even after that they managed to put out a few very good albums like Some Girls and Tattoo You (I know others will disagree, of course). Specifically, it is their ability to musically incorporate so much great American music that draws me to them still. Country, soul, blues, Chuck Berry rock 'n' roll. It's all there.

And yet this much hyped bio by the Stones' chief musical director and swashbuckling figurehead is the least satisfying of the books I've read about the band. About the best I can say are the passages on open-tuning guitar playing and some other tricks and techniques of the trade. If you're looking for great, unheard tales of debauchery, you won't find them here. Instead, you get a rehash of the band from a
30K ft. perspective. Dartford, UK wonder kids in ‘63 to musicians today worth 100s of millions each. I find other reviewer's comments about Richard's ability to recall so much a bit odd in that sense. In fact, there aren't a lot of really juicy tidbits here. Lots of this seems like it could have been taken from other biographies of the band.

What is most disconcerting is Richards' unwillingness to speak about some awkward episodes of his life, such as the circumstances under which Mick and Keith kicked Brian Jones out of the band. This occurred just before Jones died (or was murdered) and in a downward, drugged out spiral. Richards had also taken Jones' gf, the German jetsetter Anita Pallenberg. And yet there is no recognition that no matter how much of an asshole Jones may have been, that's some pretty awful stuff to happen to anyone. Instead, Richards goes to great lengths to explain how terrible Jones was and that Anita came on to him.

Maybe it's just me, but talking dirt about a dead person whose gf you took seems sort of crummy. Am I alone here?

And then there is the inherent contradiction of portraying yourself as some sort of rock 'n roll icon when a “Prince Lowenstein” is working on your behalf so that you can avoid paying taxes on your 8 digit annual income.... And then there's Hermes ads.... And the fact that your whole pirate act at this point makes you look less like an outlaw and more like an aging woman whose make up is running after a vigorous jazzerize class.

I mean, have you seen The Riff lately? Or considered that all their records have sucked for the past 30 years? Again, I understand no one is perfect. But how about some more meditation on your imperfections when you reflect on your life?

All in all, I still think Up and Down with the Rolling Stones by dealer Tony Sanchez is the best. If I can’t get honesty, just give me the gossip.