life

In which I read Keith Richards’ autobiography.

So, the Rolling Stones were one of those bands that I just never gave half a hairy flying shit about, pretty much ever. I’ve spent plenty of time sneering at people in their 50s who are still stuck on the Stones as being the greatest thing, since ever, who seemingly have to relive their not-so-rebellious youth by taking off their Wall Street banker suits, throwing on a pair of $1,000 jeans and a vintage Stones concert tour t-shirt that they forced their beleaguered personal assistant to find and purchase for them (probably also for a ridiculously huge amount of money) and then pay more than $500 for a concert ticket. And talking about how they saw the Stones in ‘72 or some such nonsense, when you know damn well they were busy sucking cock for grades at Phillips Andover…

Yeah, because that RAWKS, yo.*

As previously mentioned, I was forced to watch Shine a Light on a plane once, between NYC and Dubai. I figured that Scorsese, plus a band that I didn’t totally hate (just felt ambivalent about), might equal a really awesome flick. 

NOPE.

It was the biggest bit of mutual ego cocksuckery committed to film that I’ve ever had the displeasure of witnessing.

In the 80s, despite the fact that I was getting educated in Rock and Roll by my friend’s dad, we somehow missed the Stones. He was way into Zeppelin, Aerosmith, AC/DC, Simon & Garfunkel (go figure), and not so much the Stones.

I was vaguely aware of them as some sort of huge countercultural deal, given the absolutely horrified way that my mother would mention them in conversation (she was a burgeoning PMRC member, if there ever was one). Her hatred alone should have sparked in my rebellious little heart a major interest in them, but somehow the Stones and I never really connected.

Still haven’t. I mean, sure, I can appreciate their music and everything, and I understand their influences and their influence, but yeah. Nothing. No emotional connections. Which is fine. I can deal with that. Other people can’t, but that’s just the way it goes. Everybody’s got a kink.

I like them a hell of a lot more than the Beatles, I’ll tell you that much. (Seriously, you can crucify my for the Beatles thing later when I write about it. Just let it go for the moment)

And there are songs here and there of theirs that I’ll listen to. For instance, I have a great deal of affection for Sympathy for the Devil. The Stones version. Not any of the covers. I really love that song. There, I threw y’all a fricken bone.

All this being said, I’m reading Keith Richards’ autobiography, Life. Dude is a funny motherfucker. He has always been pretty much the only reason why I’ve paid attention to the Stones. But then again, I’ve always gone for the dark, brooding, disaffected sort, rather than the hyperactive bouncing around frontman. (see: Joe Perry, Richie Sambora, Eddie VanHalen (sorta), Slash, the Edge, Jimmy Page).

I like the countercultural aspect to the Stones’ existence in the 60s and 70s. And the fact that they’ve managed to live this long, despite the insane amount of drugs they took is a testament to…something.

But back to Life. It’s a really gorgeous book. Richards, and I’m assuming, his ghostwriter, did a fantastic job of developing this intelligent, yet coarse, lower class English voice with wonderfully dry wit. It’s definitely the granddaddy of Russell Brand’s voice in his Booky Wooks. Both Richards and Brand have similar aesthetics (and drug problems, and childhoods, and love of tight pants, and crazy hair), and you can definitely see how Brand kind of grew out of what Richards and his lot were setting up in the 60s and 70s.

Richards is funny, and seems to be rather brutally honest about himself and the things he (and his various girlfriends) were doing at the height of the Stones’ fame: drugs, alcohol, sleeping around, stealing women from one another, fighting, and flouting of all social convention. In part, I found that this book is an intensive read about the utter selfishness and self-centeredness of the baby boomer generation taken to its logical extreme. I’ve long had the suspicion that the boomers used the whole peace and love movement of the 60s and 70s as an excuse to be utter assholes. I wasn’t there (Gen X all the way, baby). But boy, it sure seems that way.

I mean, granted, social conventions desperately needed some good flouting, but to use that as a reason to be an asshole is a titch despicable.

Interspersed among the stories of debauchery are some true gems regarding Richards’ creative process, how he approaches music and songwriting, and how he came to be the musician he is today. Which, quite frankly, has caused me to go back and listen closely to the Stones’ music. At one point, he writes “I find myself trying to play horn lines all the time on the guitar.” Which, now that I’ve read this, I can totally hear on the opening riffs of a multitude of Stones’ songs, notably Start Me Up and Brown Sugar. 

It was also exceedingly fascinating to read about Richards’ fascination with playing (and writing) songs on a five string guitar with open tuning. I’ve known so many amateur guitarists who just couldn’t quite get the Stones’ songs right, and learning this made it all clear to me. Yeah, he removes his bottom E. Awesome. 

So, do I like the Rolling Stones more? Meh… not really. While I have a much deeper appreciation for their music (and specifically for their guitarist), listening to their music is still, for me, the sonic equivalent of being brought nearly to orgasm over and over and fucking over again, but never actually GETTING there. 

(But I really enjoyed this book.)

*ok, so while I completely stand by my vitriol regarding Wall Street douchenozzles, I’ll give a pass to the other 99% of the world idolizing/obsessing about the Stones. Richards wrote this really sweet section as to why all these bankers and dentists are obsessed: “They imagined me, they made me, the folks out there created this folk hero. Bless their hearts. And I’ll do the best I can to fulfill their needs. They’re wishing me to do things that they can’t. They’ve got to do this job, they’ve got this life, they’re an insurance salesman…but at the same time, inside of them is a raging Keith Richards.”

Sigh.

it might get loud

An example of how I am usually late to the party. Four years late.

But, you know, I feel like I’m doing pretty well for somebody with a kid and a full time job and numerous other interests, which mostly include listening to music, and not watching movies about it.

One Friday afternoon found me home from work, watching It Might Get Loud with my 7-year-old daughter, and my 10-month-old nephew. And a really loud air conditioner. And I couldn’t wear my headphones because I actually had to pay attention to the kids.

Whatever. Parenting. Feh.

Oh, and also, my daughter wanted to hear it. Go figure. I had to turn on the subtitles because I couldn’t actually hear any of the dialogue, much less understand the mumbling English/Irish accents with an insane amount of white noise/kid chatter going on in the background.

So, a listy review:

1. It held my daughter’s attention for the duration of the movie, and she said that she didn’t want it to end. This surprised me, because the movie doesn’t have much of a narrative, or much action, and is mostly two old guys and one not-so-old one noodling around on guitars, talking about guitars, and visiting places that were important to their guitars.
2. The baby really liked the parts with the punk rock. He’s got good taste. Let’s see if we can overcome his father’s tragic adoration of Rush (among other prog rockers).
3. I found it highly enjoyable, and I went into it with less than zero expectations, given that the last rock documentary I saw was “Shine a Light.” I watched it on a plane. I walked out.
4. Also surprisingly enjoyable, because Jack White is one of those musicians that I honestly could give a flying fuck in hell about. it made me want to listen to the Raconteurs. (Fuck the White Stripes. Never liked them anyway) One of these days when I actually get around to it, I will buy a Raconteurs’ album and listen to it. When I’m in the mood. Maybe.
5. I learned quite a lot, which also surprised me. I also love that Jimmy Page was learning stuff from The Edge, and was totally open about it, and that Jack White was so open to this. Mostly because I really love watching people who love what they do, and when they have that quality, they’re really in a space of beginner’s mind, and full of joy with the entire process. It was a beautiful thing.
6. We’ll need to watch it again. Maybe without a squirmy 10-month-old at my side. So that I can actually concentrate on the movie, and not on keeping said baby from falling off the couch. Because that would make me not so much of a good godparent. Oh, and maybe at a time when it’s not 100 degrees outside and I don’t have to have the AC running on full blast right next to me, and I will actually be able to hear the music in the film. I’m picky that way. 
7. It contains footage of Bono wearing an incredibly tight white satin jumpsuit, or something, from the late 70s. Awesome. Amazing how pretentious he can seem, given that there is footage of him wearing the aforementioned suit, and his glorious mullet. I’m not saying he’s actually pretentious (ok, yes I am), but he comes off that way.
8. My daughter can now pick out one of The Edge’s guitar riffs easily. He’s got such a distinctive style. I’m so proud. She was describing one of his riffs (from Where the Streets Have No Name) as sounding like a waterfall. Pretty accurate, methinks.
9. I think my kid is also now fantasizing about Jimmy Page being her grandpa. She doesn’t have any grandfathers, and older men hold a fascination for her. I should totally introduce her to the wonders of Keith Richards, because I really feel like his fashion sense fits much more closely with her own.
10. It was also awesome to sit there and be able to pause the movie and explain some of the stuff about the music to my kid, and to see her really connecting with it. 

you can find the movie in various places that are awesome. it was put out in 2009, by Sony, or some such company.

just go buy or rent it and watch it.