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Sunday, October 24, 2021

Life (2010)

Keith Richards's memoir is approximately what you expect—entertaining, full of itself, and about gossipy enough. He explores his relationship with Mick Jagger in some depth at various points but never comes up with much that's satisfying (we still can't get no). He addresses all kinds of areas where we appreciate learning more, or anything, such as the roles of Brian Jones, Anita Pallenberg, Andrew Loog Oldham, or the Beatles, verifying or debunking old rumors. Oldham did force Jagger and Richards to start writing songs. I don't know what's more amazing—that they turned out to be so good at it, or that it was never their idea and someone had to make them do it. Richards makes it clear he doesn't buy the idea that the Rolling Stones were "really" Brian Jones's band. It's convincing to the extent that the catalog of originals by itself makes a case for the Stones being what they appear to be—Mick's and Keith's band. Richards also goes into his legendary drug use, which is more generally the "OK boomer" portion of the book. I ended up being more interested in him as a craftsman and artist. He calls "Jumping Jack Flash" and "Street Fighting Man" the best of the Stones, which I agree with, noting they have an amazing amount of good material in different eras. As with most memoirs and bios we're pretty much there for the middle—the beginning (grade school) and end (post-1980, off all highs) tend to drag. The drug tales and all the exotic travel and homes grow tiresome too—maybe Robin Leach narrates these parts of the audio book? I appreciated learning that a legendary change of blood to escape addiction and/or drug tests was only a legend after all. Never happened. I did wonder—the rich, after all, are different from you and me. Which reminds me, another reason I like Richards is he's one of the minority of Brits who declined a knighthood when offered, unlike Sir Mick and Sir Rod and a good many other Sir rebel rockers. He shares that choice with David Bowie, who Richards otherwise makes fun of and reminds me why I have a hard time liking him. Richards is a strange mix of working-class and rich-most-of-his-life, with his deepest commitment to rock 'n' roll and the blues as a sound that is made on a guitar. I could do without the outlaw drug stories, but I loved his recipe for bangers and mash. He's just that kind of guy.

In case the library is closed due to pandemic.

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