C. J. Walsh
Keith Richards with James Fox
Little, Brown & Company
Of Brian Jones Keith Richards once said that he didn’t see either of them living long enough to get the gold watch; he was half-right. With a remarkable eye for detail, Richards has written his memoirs, and the view from his own lens is pretty astounding. Along with eye-popping stories of nearly fifty years with the Rolling Stones are memories of his British youth. And while reading, it’s easy to imagine the enlightened rogue, drink in hand, unfurling tales of a life lived full-on.
Along the way there are hilarious stories of trips to Stonehenge with Gram Parsons, acid trips with John Lennon and starting a fire at the Playboy mansion. Possessing a robust constitution, he’s survived Altamont, the 1980s and of course, massive quantities of Class A substances. Surprisingly, his take on Mick Jagger is measured rather than withering, no doubt aware the party isn’t over yet. “If Mick wasn’t making things difficult you’d think he was ill.”
A plethora of Stones books have been published lately, but this is easily the best. At the risk of ruining the ending for the reader, I’ll give it away – somehow he survived.
Published in Relix magazine