LIFE BY KEITH RICHARDS, JAMES FOX

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Amazon.com Review Amazon Best Books of the Month, November 2010: It's hard to imagine a celebrity memoir--or any memoir for that matter--that is as easy to drink in (so to speak) as Keith Richards's Life. Die-hard Stones fans will love tales of the band's ascension from the "interval" band at the Marquee to the headliners at Super Bowl XL; guitar gearheads will scramble to sample the one lick that has eluded Richards for 49 years; and historians and romantics alike will swoon over the raspy, rambling, raucous detail of this portrait of the artist in situ. Yes, some tales are told, but Life is refreshingly not gossipy, mean-spirited, or sordid--or at least not more than the truth demands. Richards is as comfortable in his bones as a worn pair of boots, and Life captures the rhythm of his voice so effortlessly that reading his tale is like sharing a pint with an old friend--one who happens to be one of the most iconic guitarists of all time. --Daphne Durham From Publishers Weekly Johnny Depp and Joe Hurley capture Richards's rock 'n' roll spirit in a wise, charming, and textured narration of the famed guitarist's memoir. Tracing Richards's trajectory from boyhood in England through the formation of the Stones to the band's rise to world domination, this audiobook is chockfull of frank revelations and enlightening stories behind the music. The three readers do superb turns—but the seemingly arbitrary switches between them can be jarring and confusing. Depp's narration is steady, well-paced, clear, and grounded. He produces a delicious range of voices for dialogue (most notably a drunk judge in Arkansas), and Richards himself sounds a bit like an elderly, bluesy Jack Sparrow. Hurley captures the voice of Richards throughout, narrating in a gritty, growl that is spot-on. And sections read by Richards are a real treat; his raspy voice is unmistakable and haunting. A Little, Brown hardcover. (Oct.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved. From Booklist Richards, as famous for his toxic lifestyle as for his guitar mastery, presents his sprawling autobiography, ably assisted by Fox, who, as author of White Mischief (1982), has experience in chronicling hedonistic British nobility. Here Fox’s coauthor and subject is a British member of rockmusic nobility with a deep and abiding commitment to hedonism. However, there are degrees of hedonism, even among pop stars. According to Richards, Willie Nelson reaches for a spliff upon

awakening, whereas Keith gives it a good 10 minutes or so before inaugurating the day’s herbal festivities. As to specific goodies of Stones lore: Decca Records management, rather than mercurial Stones manager Andrew Loog Oldham, sacked original member Ian Stewart, thereby consigning him to road-manager status though he continued to play piano with the band live and in the studio. Oldham, who had worked for the Beatles under Brian Epstein, was the originator of immortal publicity gambits such as planting nasty tabloid headlines, but he simply ran out of ideas and was sacked, personality issues with Mick Jagger also being a contributing factor. Over the years, Richards sneaked many people back into the Stones’ orbit after they ran afoul of Jagger, saxophonist Bobby Keys and Richards’ personal manager, Jane Rose, prime among them. Chuck Berry was “a big disappointment,” not musically, of course, but as a cranky collaborator. And country-music legend George Jones, himself a Richards-level imbiber of recreational substances, impressed Keith with his immaculate pompadour, admittedly an architectural wonder. For the record, Richards stands by the story of encountering Muddy Waters, who owed the label money, painting rooms at Chess Records, though Marshall Chess denies it ever happened. On a personal level, Richards regrets whatever part he played in abetting the heroin addictions of several associates. However, he considers people to be ultimately responsible for their own actions. Cautionary words indeed, but then there’s the merchandising idea that Richards and Paul McCartney came up with: celebrity “sun-dried turds,” the specimens to be coated with shellac and decorated by “a major artist.” Richards’ (or Fox’s) writing is spare and incisive, the narrative tone rarely self-serving, which is certainly something to be celebrated in celebrity autobiography. And make no mistake: at this time in their careers, Richards and the Stones are at least as much a celebrity-news matter as a musical force. --Mike Tribby

LIFE BY KEITH RICHARDS, JAMES FOX PDF

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LIFE BY KEITH RICHARDS, JAMES FOX PDF

As lead guitarist of the Rolling Stones, Keith Richards created the riffs, the lyrics, and the songs that roused the world. A true and towering original, he has always walked his own path, spoken his mind, and done things his own way. Now at last Richards pauses to tell his story in the most anticipated autobiography in decades. And what a story! Listening obsessively to Chuck Berry and Muddy Waters records in a coldwater flat with Mick Jagger and Brian Jones, building a sound and a band out of music they loved. Finding fame and success as a bad-boy band, only to find themselves challenged by authorities everywhere. Dropping his guitar's sixth string to create a new sound that allowed him to create immortal riffs like those in "Honky Tonk Woman" and "Jumpin' Jack Flash." Falling in love with Anita Pallenberg, Brian Jones's girlfriend. Arrested and imprisoned for drug possession. Tax exile in France and recording Exile on Main Street. Ever-increasing fame, isolation, and addiction making life an ever faster frenzy. Through it all, Richards remained devoted to the music of the band, until even that was challenged by Mick Jagger's attempt at a solo career, leading to a decade of conflicts and ultimately the biggest reunion tour in history. In a voice that is uniquely and unmistakably him--part growl, part laugh--Keith Richards brings us the truest rock-and-roll life of our times, unfettered and fearless and true. Richards' rich voice introduces the audiobook edition of LIFE and leads us into Johnny Depp's performance, while fellow artist Joe Hurley bridges the long road traveled before Richards closes with the final chapter of this incredible 23-hour production, which includes a bonus PDF of photos. ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ●

Sales Rank: #89789 in Books Published on: 2010-11-16 Released on: 2010-11-16 Formats: Audiobook, CD, Unabridged Original language: English Number of items: 20 Dimensions: 5.75" h x 2.00" w x 5.25" l, 1.15 pounds Running time: 1350 minutes Binding: Audio CD 20 pages

Amazon.com Review Amazon Best Books of the Month, November 2010: It's hard to imagine a celebrity memoir--or any memoir for that matter--that is as easy to drink in (so to speak) as Keith Richards's Life. Die-hard Stones fans will love tales of the band's ascension from the "interval" band at the Marquee to the headliners at Super Bowl XL; guitar gearheads will scramble to sample the one lick that has eluded Richards for 49 years; and historians and romantics alike will swoon over the raspy, rambling, raucous detail of this portrait of the artist in situ. Yes, some tales are told, but Life is refreshingly not gossipy, mean-spirited, or sordid--or at least not more than the truth demands. Richards is as comfortable in his bones as a worn pair of boots, and Life captures the rhythm of his voice so

effortlessly that reading his tale is like sharing a pint with an old friend--one who happens to be one of the most iconic guitarists of all time. --Daphne Durham From Publishers Weekly Johnny Depp and Joe Hurley capture Richards's rock 'n' roll spirit in a wise, charming, and textured narration of the famed guitarist's memoir. Tracing Richards's trajectory from boyhood in England through the formation of the Stones to the band's rise to world domination, this audiobook is chockfull of frank revelations and enlightening stories behind the music. The three readers do superb turns—but the seemingly arbitrary switches between them can be jarring and confusing. Depp's narration is steady, well-paced, clear, and grounded. He produces a delicious range of voices for dialogue (most notably a drunk judge in Arkansas), and Richards himself sounds a bit like an elderly, bluesy Jack Sparrow. Hurley captures the voice of Richards throughout, narrating in a gritty, growl that is spot-on. And sections read by Richards are a real treat; his raspy voice is unmistakable and haunting. A Little, Brown hardcover. (Oct.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved. From Booklist Richards, as famous for his toxic lifestyle as for his guitar mastery, presents his sprawling autobiography, ably assisted by Fox, who, as author of White Mischief (1982), has experience in chronicling hedonistic British nobility. Here Fox’s coauthor and subject is a British member of rockmusic nobility with a deep and abiding commitment to hedonism. However, there are degrees of hedonism, even among pop stars. According to Richards, Willie Nelson reaches for a spliff upon awakening, whereas Keith gives it a good 10 minutes or so before inaugurating the day’s herbal festivities. As to specific goodies of Stones lore: Decca Records management, rather than mercurial Stones manager Andrew Loog Oldham, sacked original member Ian Stewart, thereby consigning him to road-manager status though he continued to play piano with the band live and in the studio. Oldham, who had worked for the Beatles under Brian Epstein, was the originator of immortal publicity gambits such as planting nasty tabloid headlines, but he simply ran out of ideas and was sacked, personality issues with Mick Jagger also being a contributing factor. Over the years, Richards sneaked many people back into the Stones’ orbit after they ran afoul of Jagger, saxophonist Bobby Keys and Richards’ personal manager, Jane Rose, prime among them. Chuck Berry was “a big disappointment,” not musically, of course, but as a cranky collaborator. And country-music legend George Jones, himself a Richards-level imbiber of recreational substances, impressed Keith with his immaculate pompadour, admittedly an architectural wonder. For the record, Richards stands by the story of encountering Muddy Waters, who owed the label money, painting rooms at Chess Records, though Marshall Chess denies it ever happened. On a personal level, Richards regrets whatever part he played in abetting the heroin addictions of several associates. However, he considers people to be ultimately responsible for their own actions. Cautionary words indeed, but then there’s the merchandising idea that Richards and Paul McCartney came up with: celebrity “sun-dried turds,” the specimens to be coated with shellac and decorated by “a major artist.” Richards’ (or Fox’s) writing is spare and incisive, the narrative tone rarely self-serving, which is certainly something to be celebrated in celebrity autobiography. And make no mistake: at this time in their careers, Richards and the Stones are at least as much a celebrity-news matter as a musical force. --Mike Tribby Most helpful customer reviews 1085 of 1160 people found the following review helpful. You thought he'd remember nothing? Well, he remembers all of it. 'Life' is absolutely fascinating. By Jesse Kornbluth

Keith Richards. Right, he's the Rolling Stone you notice when Mick Jagger's not shaking and singing. The one who kicked his heroin addiction by having all his blood transfused in Switzerland. Who was --- for ten years in a row --- chosen by a music magazine as the rocker "most likely to die." Whose solution to spilling a bit of his father's ashes was to grab a straw and snort. Whose most recent revelation is about the size of Mick's equipment. Yeah, that's the guy. Wild man. Broken tooth, skull ring, earring, kohl eyes --- he's Cpt. Jack Sparrow's father, lurching though life as if it's a pirate movie, ready to unsheathe his knife for any reason, or none. Got some blow, some smack, a case of Jack Daniels? Having a party? Dial Keith. When you get a $7 million advance for your memoirs, there's no such thing as a "bad" image. But the thing about Keith Richards is, he wants to tell the truth. Like: he didn't have his blood transfused. Like: he didn't take heroin for pleasure or to nod out, but so he could tamp his energy down enough to work. Like: he and Jagger may not be friends but they're definitely brothers --- and if you criticize Mick to him, he'll slit your throat. Why does Keith want to undercut his legend? Because he has much better stories to tell. And in the 547-page memoir he wrote with James Fox, he serves them up like his guitar riffs -- in your face, nasty, confrontational, rich, smart, and, in the end, unforgettable. Start with the childhood. Keith grew up in a gray, down-and-out suburb of London. School: "I hated it. I'd spend the whole day wondering how to get home without taking a beating." By his teens, he'd figured the system out: "There's bigger bullies than just bullies. There's 'them,' the authorities." He adopts "a criminal mind." His school record reflects this: "'He has maintained a low standard' was the six-word summary of my 1959 school report, suggesting, correctly, that I had put some effort into the enterprise." His mother is his savior. She likes music, and is a "master twiddler" of the knobs on the radio. When he's 15, she spends ten quid she doesn't have to buy her only child a guitar. (No spoilers here, but much later in the book, you're going to fight tears when he plays a certain song for her.) The rest of the book? Keith Richards and a guitar --- and what a love story: "Music was a far bigger drug than smack. I could kick smack; I couldn't quit music. One note leads to another, and you never know what's going to come next, and you don't want to. It's like walking on a beautiful tightrope." What music interests him? Oh, come on: the music of the dispossessed --- black Chicago blues. Mick Jagger, who lives a few blocks away and is prosperous enough to actually buy a few records, also loves this music. To say they bond is to understate: "We both knew we were in a process of learning, and it was something you wanted to learn and it was ten times better than school." The Rolling Stones form. The casting is quite funny: "Bill Wyman arrived, or, more important, his Vox amplifier arrived and Bill came with it." Today bands dream of getting rich. Not the Stones: "We hated money." Their first aim was to be the best rhythm and blues band in London. Their second was to get a record contract. The way to

do that was to play. Something happened when the Stones were on stage, something sexy and dangerous and never seen before. The Beatles held your hand. In 18 months, the Stones never finished a show. Keith estimates they played, on average, five to ten minutes before the screaming started, and then the fainting, until the security team was piling unconscious teenage girls on the stage like so much firewood. Fame. When it comes, there's no way out; you need it to do your work. The Stones at least brought a new look to it; they provoked the press, didn't care what the record company wanted. Only the music mattered. As Berry Gordy liked to say, "It's what's in the grooves that counts." "The world's greatest rock band" --- between 1966 and 1973, it's hard to argue that they weren't. Songs poured out of them: "I used to set up the riffs and the titles and the hook, and Mick would fill in. We didn't think much or analyze....Take it away, Mick. Your job now. I've given you the riff, baby." Drugs? Necessary. In the South, a black musician laid it out for Keith: "Smoke one of these, take one of these." Keith would move on beyond grass and Benzedrine to cocaine for the blast and focus, heroin for the two or three day work marathon. Engineers would give their all and fall asleep under the console, to be replaced by others. Keith would soldier on. "For many years," he says, "I slept, on average, twice a week." With money and success, though, there's suddenly time to think --- in Keith's case, about all the things about Mick that drove him nuts. His interest in Society. His egomania. His insecurity. And his promiscuity: "Mick never wanted me to talk to his women. They end up crying on my shoulder because they've found out that he has once again philandered. What am I gonna do? The tears that have been on this shoulder from Jerry Hall, from Bianca, from Marianne, Chrissie Shrimpton... They've ruined so many shirts of mine. And they ask me what to do! How should I know? I had Jerry Hall come to me one day with this note from some other chick that was written backwards --really good code, Mick! --- "I'll be your mistress forever." All you had to do was hold it up to a mirror to read it... And I'm in the most unlikely role of counselor, "Uncle Keith." It's a side a lot of people don't connect with me." If only it could be so simple as a man and his guitar! But there are other people involved, in close association, with a lot at stake --- and here comes the business story, the drug story, the power story. It's funny and silly. And, after a while, sad. Mick breaks away from the Stones and makes a solo record: "It was like 'Mein Kampf.' Everybody had a copy but nobody listened to it." Mick gets grand. Keith's lost in drugs. From 1982 to 1989, the Stones don't tour; from 1985 to 1989, they don't go into the studio. And now they are rich. Beyond rich. Every time they tour or license a song, their wealth mounts -Keith, by most estimates, is worth at least $250 million. It's ironic, really, for by any creative analysis, the Stones were over after "Exile on Main Street." And yet, here they are, almost four decades later, capable of producing the most lucrative tour of any year. Like so many things these days, music is about branding -- and there's no bigger brand than the Rolling Stones. Keith may slag his band mates; he'd never mock the Stones. Because the band is, if his version is accurate, really his triumph. Mick provided the flash, but in rock and roll, a great riff

will always trump flash. A great riff will also trump time. We love rock for many reasons, and not the smallest is the way it makes us feel young, as if everything's possible and the road is clear ahead of us. And here is Keith Richards, who never grew up and is now so rich he'll never have to. His story slows as it approaches the present, and you start to wonder if this Peter Pan life can get to its end without real pain. And you think, well, there's another side to this -- if Mick started writing tonight, he could have his book out before he's 70. But mostly, you wish you could go back to the beginning of "Life" and start again. 68 of 74 people found the following review helpful. Don't try this life at home - but it's sure fun to read about By Dan Berger What a fun biography! What a life! Keith Richards is definitely my favorite heroin addict, ever. Random observations: --He refreshingly avoids recovery-speak in discussing his legendary drug abuse. Consequently this may be one of the best firsthand accounts of it ever written - clear, plain, detailed. I'd rather read this than Aldous Huxley or The Beats. While not encouraging anyone else to try it, he doesn't apologize or lather on phony regrets . He enjoyed it while he did it. A lot of it was just business for touring musicians - something to get you up for the next show on your grueling schedule, and something to mellow off the first drug's hard edges after the show. He figures he stayed alive because he used pure products (often obtained, albeit illegally, from prescriptions in England, where it was legal), and was meticulous about not overdoing it. There's a jolly scene where he describes himself cutting Turkish heroin exactly 97 to 3. Not 96 to 4. -- He's down to earth. More genuine in some ways than Jagger, whom he faults for accepting a knighthood after playing the rebel his entire life. (A class thing perhaps: Jagger the middle-class, good-student striver ultimately wanting acceptance by the elites; Richards the son of a factory worker, knowing that's not his bag and not really wanting it.) He'd rather hang with musicians, particularly good ones, than the jet set and Eurotrash. --He never turns to Buddhism, rants about politics or devotes himself to saving the planet. For this alone I'd lionize him. -- Richards prefers the band to the solo; for him the big moment is when the sound blends and you can't tell who's playing what. He likes hanging with his best buds, most of whom have been in jail. He's comfortable with black people in contexts most whites never reach - Rastafarians in remote villages where most white people would get shot, all-night parties with black musicians on the other side of the tracks after shows in the still-segregated South. --He really has led a charmed life, wriggling out of numerous busts where they had him cold - in Canada, Honolulu, Arkansas, and England. He's also survived auto wrecks and fires, physical mayhem and rioting English teenage girls, whom he regarded as scarier than the cops who staked him out for years trying to catch him with drugs.

--Oh my God: all the women. Sigh. It's good to be king. Now for the pontificating. This is one of the most important books in rock history in recent years. Popular culture knows a hell of a lot about the Beatles but far less about the Stones. What folks know about them, they tend to know about Jagger instead of Richards. And what they know about Richards is disproportionately his indestructibility in the face of unbelievable drug abuse. Which is a pity. Let's not forget that the Rolling Stones were there at the conception, just like the Beatles. Teenyboppers rioted for them, just like for the Beatles. In 1964, two British polls showed them more popular than the Fab Four. Their rise was seen as heralding the Apocalypse, probably more so than the Beatles. Stones mania in England caught up with the Beatles by 1964 or 1965. The two bands would coordinate their singles' releases so as not to step on each other's hits. By the age of peak cultural and political rebellion, the Beatles were already breaking up while the Stones were just hitting their stride. While Lennon and McCartney were the latest pop-standard immortals, the Stones saw themselves as bluesmen. They singlehandedly brought the legacy of the Chicago blues to an enormous worldwide audience, reviving many blues careers. Their merging of early rock and roll and Chicago blues created what you today think of as rock - that big pounding sound filling stadiums. No one has ever surpassed them in its execution. Richards refers to them without braggadocio as the world's greatest rock and roll band, and that's true. So much of that can be attributed to Richards, their guitarist for half a century. He was never a glossy pop celebrity. He had bad teeth. He never came across as a virtuoso a la Clapton or Hendrix. But he and Charlie Watts were - I'm stealing a phrase from the book here - the band's engine house, while Jagger sang and danced out front, the band's public face. Richards was mesmerized during youth by the blues, but unlike a lot of older blues purists, he also loved rock and roll. The band's early insistence on playing it raised hackles among their base of blues fans; Richards parallels this to folkie disapproval of rock and roll. Richards, Jagger and Brian Jones spent two or three years in poverty singlemindedly pursuing the blues. They dissected every record they could find to replicate its sounds. And they really got it. Early American audiences hearing them on the radio couldn't tell if they were white or black. Richards' life changed when he first heard Elvis singing "Heartbreak Hotel" on a crackling Radio Luxemburg broadcast, but it was Elvis's guitarist Scotty Moore he really idolized. He describes how music is made, how he and Jagger wrote songs, how a sound was achieved, recording tricks. His discovery of five-string tuning - removing a guitar's lowest string and tuning the others like a banjo - changed the Stones' sound. The personal data intrigues, and not just the inside dope on his relationships with Ronnie Spector, Anita Pallenberg, Patti Hansen, Uschi Obermaier and others. Readers may be surprised to learn Richards was a devoted Boy Scout patrol leader and thinks it shaped him into someone who could run a band. Or that he was in a prize-winning boys choir. Or that he was nervous approaching women. Or that in later life he's become a devoted reader, preferring history (World War II, the Romans) Patrick O'Brian's "Master and Commander" series, and George MacDonald Fraser's "Flashman" books. (I salute his excellent taste.) The way to view his life is this: it's not a recommendation to everyone else to screw countless

women, including gorgeous models, beautiful revolutionaries, black strippers, groupies and bankers' wives. It's not a recommendation to lead a jangled lifestyle for decades abusing every drug available while putting in recording studio sessions measured in days, not hours, without sleep. Richards is, more or less, a god in the Greek sense, and we marvel at him because he does things that most of us can't or don't really want to. He's unkillable. He's mega-talented, fabulously rich and famous. He has lived a charmed existence by his own rules. But this life killed or destroyed many around him weaker, less lucky or talented than he. Brian Jones was gone by 1969. Richards is the exception that proves these rules. That's the role of gods and kings. Don't try this at home. But it's sure fun to read about. 91 of 101 people found the following review helpful. Truly Phenomenal - Similar in Quality and Candor to the Beatles Anthology By runningchicagomommy221 The other reviewers have already done an excellent job of summarizing the topics he speaks of in the book, so I won't pile on that. I just wanted to emphasize the quality and openness and candor of this memoir. Many mocked his quote in the beginning that he truly remembers all of it, but it's abundantly clear that not only does he remember, but he's willing and eager to share it. Sure, the $7mm advance helps, but we've all read much-hyped bios that turned out to be selfcongratulatory, unimpressive paper weights. This is not that. You will learn more about Keith than the most die hard fans do, and learn that he's far more than the caricature of a drug-abusing burned out rock star that the media often paints him out to be. I'm blown away. See all 1357 customer reviews...

LIFE BY KEITH RICHARDS, JAMES FOX PDF

By downloading and install the on the internet Life By Keith Richards, James Fox publication right here, you will obtain some advantages not to choose guide shop. Merely hook up to the internet as well as start to download the web page link we discuss. Currently, your Life By Keith Richards, James Fox prepares to delight in reading. This is your time and your peacefulness to get all that you desire from this publication Life By Keith Richards, James Fox Amazon.com Review Amazon Best Books of the Month, November 2010: It's hard to imagine a celebrity memoir--or any memoir for that matter--that is as easy to drink in (so to speak) as Keith Richards's Life. Die-hard Stones fans will love tales of the band's ascension from the "interval" band at the Marquee to the headliners at Super Bowl XL; guitar gearheads will scramble to sample the one lick that has eluded Richards for 49 years; and historians and romantics alike will swoon over the raspy, rambling, raucous detail of this portrait of the artist in situ. Yes, some tales are told, but Life is refreshingly not gossipy, mean-spirited, or sordid--or at least not more than the truth demands. Richards is as comfortable in his bones as a worn pair of boots, and Life captures the rhythm of his voice so effortlessly that reading his tale is like sharing a pint with an old friend--one who happens to be one of the most iconic guitarists of all time. --Daphne Durham From Publishers Weekly Johnny Depp and Joe Hurley capture Richards's rock 'n' roll spirit in a wise, charming, and textured narration of the famed guitarist's memoir. Tracing Richards's trajectory from boyhood in England through the formation of the Stones to the band's rise to world domination, this audiobook is chockfull of frank revelations and enlightening stories behind the music. The three readers do superb turns—but the seemingly arbitrary switches between them can be jarring and confusing. Depp's narration is steady, well-paced, clear, and grounded. He produces a delicious range of voices for dialogue (most notably a drunk judge in Arkansas), and Richards himself sounds a bit like an elderly, bluesy Jack Sparrow. Hurley captures the voice of Richards throughout, narrating in a gritty, growl that is spot-on. And sections read by Richards are a real treat; his raspy voice is unmistakable and haunting. A Little, Brown hardcover. (Oct.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved. From Booklist Richards, as famous for his toxic lifestyle as for his guitar mastery, presents his sprawling autobiography, ably assisted by Fox, who, as author of White Mischief (1982), has experience in chronicling hedonistic British nobility. Here Fox’s coauthor and subject is a British member of rockmusic nobility with a deep and abiding commitment to hedonism. However, there are degrees of hedonism, even among pop stars. According to Richards, Willie Nelson reaches for a spliff upon awakening, whereas Keith gives it a good 10 minutes or so before inaugurating the day’s herbal festivities. As to specific goodies of Stones lore: Decca Records management, rather than mercurial Stones manager Andrew Loog Oldham, sacked original member Ian Stewart, thereby consigning him to road-manager status though he continued to play piano with the band live and in the studio. Oldham, who had worked for the Beatles under Brian Epstein, was the originator of immortal publicity gambits such as planting nasty tabloid headlines, but he simply ran out of ideas and was sacked, personality issues with Mick Jagger also being a contributing factor. Over the

years, Richards sneaked many people back into the Stones’ orbit after they ran afoul of Jagger, saxophonist Bobby Keys and Richards’ personal manager, Jane Rose, prime among them. Chuck Berry was “a big disappointment,” not musically, of course, but as a cranky collaborator. And country-music legend George Jones, himself a Richards-level imbiber of recreational substances, impressed Keith with his immaculate pompadour, admittedly an architectural wonder. For the record, Richards stands by the story of encountering Muddy Waters, who owed the label money, painting rooms at Chess Records, though Marshall Chess denies it ever happened. On a personal level, Richards regrets whatever part he played in abetting the heroin addictions of several associates. However, he considers people to be ultimately responsible for their own actions. Cautionary words indeed, but then there’s the merchandising idea that Richards and Paul McCartney came up with: celebrity “sun-dried turds,” the specimens to be coated with shellac and decorated by “a major artist.” Richards’ (or Fox’s) writing is spare and incisive, the narrative tone rarely self-serving, which is certainly something to be celebrated in celebrity autobiography. And make no mistake: at this time in their careers, Richards and the Stones are at least as much a celebrity-news matter as a musical force. --Mike Tribby

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