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Re: Post: Magazine Articles
Posted by: exilestones ()
Date: August 5, 2022 18:24

          
While teenage girls across the world were being sent into frenzies as The
British Invasion reached American soil, parents everywhere were biting their
nails, pondering the question – “Would you let your daughter marry a Rolling Stone?


While Oldham was choreographing how the boys appeared in public, Bob Bonis
was also at work behind the scenes as U.S. Tour Manager for the Stones’ first
five trips stateside between 1964 and 1966. Bonis didn’t dictate their image,
rather he captured it on film.

With his Leica M3 camera ready-to-shoot, he documented the band at the height
of the British Invasion, capturing candid and historic moments in their
meteoric rise to fame. These never-before-released photographs are now
available from the Bob Bonis Archive as strictly limited edition fine art prints.



Bob Bonis Tour Manager



Due to a no-nonsense reputation earned from years of working in the jazz clubs in New York
that were mostly run by wise-guys, Bob Bonis was tapped to serve as U.S. Tour manager for
the Rolling Stones beginning with their very first tour of America in June, 1964 and con-
tinued in this role through 1966. He brought along his Leica M3 camera on the road and
recorded approximately 2,700 historic, intimate, extraordinary images of the Stones.





RCA Studio in Hollywood 1965



The Rolling Stones rehearsed and recorded the backing tracks for an
appearance on the popular TV show Shindig on May 18 and 19 at RCA
in Hollywood. The show was taped on May 20th and broadcast on May 26th.

On this show the Stones performed Down The Road Apiece, Little Red Rooster,
The Last Time, and what appears to be the worl premiere performance of
(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction.

Bob Bonis captured Keith Richards striking a boyish grin while playing his
vintage 1959 Gibson Les Paul guitar with the flame top during these rehearsals.




RCA 1965 - Photo by tour manager Bob Bonis



Rolling Stones with Andrew Loog Oldham, RCA Studios May 12-13, 1965

After a long recording session at RCA Studios in Hollywood, California, May 12-
13, 1965, US tour manager, Bob Bonis, captured this striking group portrait of
the five Rolling Stones (Brian Jones, Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, Charlie
Watts and Bill Wyman) with their manager / producer Andrew Loog Oldham.

Emotions run high as the shift in power from founder Brian Jones to Mick Jagger
and Keith Richards is clearly evident in this remarkable photograph. These
sessions produced the songs & (I Can't Get No) Satisfaction (the second version
they recorded that was actually released), Cry To Me, Good Times, I've Been
Loving You Too Long, My Girl, One More Try, and The Spider and the Fly.

Look closely at only Brian, Mick and Keith. The look at Bill assessing the situation.







Re: Post: Magazine Articles
Posted by: exilestones ()
Date: September 27, 2022 20:27

Will Keith Richards Bury Us All?
In a freewheeling conversation, the Rolling Stones guitarist waxes about his bad habits,
Jagger's solo records and the possibility of retirement


BY DAVID FRICKE
OCTOBER 17, 2002



Keith Richards of The Rolling Stones performs in East Rutherford, New Jersey on September 28th, 2002.


Keith Richards bolts out of the dark and into the light, grips the neck of his guitar like a rifle barrel and fires the opening call to joy of the Rolling Stones‘ 2002-03 world tour: the fierce chords of “Street Fighting Man,” a blazing rush that for Richards is the sound of life itself. “My biggest addiction, more than heroin, is the stage and the audience,” he says with gravelly cheer the next day, after that first show in Boston. “That buzz — it calls you every time.”

Richards, Mick Jagger, Charlie Watts and Ron Wood will spend the next year on the road answering that call, celebrating forty years as a working band and the release of a two CD retrospective, Forty Licks.

“You’re fighting upstream against this preconception that you can’t do this at this age,” snaps Richards, who turns fifty-nine on December 18th. He has been through worse: a long dance with heroin in the 1970s; close calls with the law and death; his volatile lifelong relationship with Jagger. And Richards talks about all of it — as well as his ultimate jones, playing with the Stones — in this interview, conducted over vodka and cigarettes during two long nights in Boston and Chicago. “People should say, ‘Isn’t it amazing these guys can move like that? Here’s hope for you all,’ ” he says with a grin. “Just don’t use my diet.”




How do you deal with criticism about the Stones being too old to rock & roll? Do you get pissed off? Does it hurt?

People want to pull the rug out from under you, because they’re bald and fat and can’t move for shit. It’s pure physical envy — that we shouldn’t be here. “How dare they defy logic?”
If I didn’t think it would work, I would be the first to say, “Forget it.” But we’re fighting people’s misconceptions about what rock & roll is supposed to be. You’re supposed to do it when you’re twenty, twenty five — as if you’re a tennis player and you have three hip surgeries and you’re done. We play rock & roll because it’s what turned us on. Muddy Waters and Howlin’ Wolf — the idea of retiring was ludicrous to them. You keep going — and why not?

You went right from being a teenager to being a Stone — no regular job, a little bit of art school. What would you be doing if the Stones had not lasted this long?

I went to art school and learned how to advertise, because you don’t learn much art there. I schlepped my portfolio to one agency, and they said — they love to put you down — “Can you make a good cup of tea?” I said, “Yeah, I can, but not for you.” I left my crap there and walked out. After I left school, I never said, “Yes, sir” to anybody.
If nothing had happened with the Stones and I was a plumber now, I’d still be playing guitar at home at night, or get the lads around the pub. I loved music; it didn’t occur to me that it would be my life. When I knew I could play something, it was an added bright thing to my life: “I’ve got that, if nothing else.”


Do you have nightmares that someday you’ll hit the stage and the place will be empty — nobody bothered to come?

That’s not a nightmare. I’ve been there: Omaha ’64, in a 15,000seat auditorium where there were 600 people. The city of Omaha, hearing these things about the Beatles — they thought they should treat us in the same way, with motorcycle outriders and everything. Nobody in town knew who we were. They didn’t give a shit. But it was a very good show. You give as much to a handful of people as you do to the others.


Do you have a pre-gig ritual — a particular drink or smoke?

I have them anyway [laughs]. I don’t go in for superstition. Ronnie and I might have a game of snooker. But it would be superfluous for the Stones to discuss strategy or have a hug. With the Winos [his late Eighties solo band], it was important. They were different guys; we only did a couple of tours. I didn’t mind. But with the Stones, it’s like, “Oh, do me a favor! I’m not going to @#$%& hug you!”


At the height of your heroin addiction, would you indulge before a show?

No. I always cleaned up for tours. I didn’t want to put myself in the position of going cold turkey in some little Midwestern town. By the end of the tour, I’m perfectly clean and should have stayed sober. But you go, “I’ll just give myself a treat.” Boom, there you are again.

Could you tell that you played better when you were clean?

I wonder about the songs I’ve written: I really like the ones I did when I was on the stuff. I wouldn’t have written “Coming Down Again” [on 1973’s Goat’s Head Soup] without that. I’m this millionaire rock star, but I’m in the gutter with these other sniveling people. It kept me in touch with the street, at the lowest level.


On this tour, you’re doing a lot of songs from Exile on Main Street — for most people, the band’s greatest album. Would you agree?

It’s a funny thing. We had tremendous trouble convincing Atlantic to put out a double album. And initially, sales were fairly low. For a year or two, it was considered a bomb. This was an era where the music industry was full of these pristine sounds. We were going the other way. That was the first grunge record.
Yes, it is one of the best. Beggars Banquet was also very important. That body of work, between those two albums: That was the most important time for the band. It was the first change the Stones had to make after the teenybopper phase. Until then, you went onstage fighting a losing battle. You want to play music? Don’t go up there. What’s important is hoping no one gets hurt and how are we getting out.

I remember a riot in Holland. I turned to look at Stu [Ian Stewart] at the piano. All I saw was a pool of blood and a broken chair. He’d been taken off by stagehands and sent to the hospital. A chair landed on his head.
To compensate for that, Mick and I developed the songwriting and records. We poured our music into that. Beggars Banquet was like coming out of puberty.


The Stones are reviving a lot of rare, older material on this tour, such as “Heart of Stone” and “Can’t You Hear Me Knocking.” Why did you stop playing those songs?

Maybe they were songs that we tried once or twice and went, “That didn’t work at all.” I think we tried “Knocking” once the whole way through. When the actual song finished and we were into the jam, it collapsed totally. The wheels fell off. We tried it one other time — “We’ll just do the front bit” — and neither satisfied us. Nobody wants to go near something that has a jinx on it. But you have to take the jinx off, take the voodoo away and have another look.


Are there Stones hits that you’re sick of playing?

No, they usually disappear of their own accord. That’s the thing about songs — you don’t have to be scared of them dying. They keep poking you in the face. The Stones have always believed in the present. But “Jumpin’ Jack Flash,” “Brown Sugar” and “Start Me Up” are always fun to play. You gotta be a real sourpuss, mate, not to get up there and play “Jumpin’ Jack Flash” without feeling like, “C’mon, everybody, let’s go!” It’s like riding a wild horse.


The general assumption about the Stones’ classic songs is that Mick wrote the words and you wrote the music. Do you deserve more credit for the lyrics — and Mick for the music?

It’s been a progression from Mick and I sitting face to face with a guitar and a tape recorder, to after Exile, when everybody chose a different place to live and another way of working. Let me put it this way: I’d say, “Mick, it goes like this: ‘Wild horses couldn’t drag me away.’ ” Then it would be a division of labor, Mick filling in the verses. There’s instances like “Undercover of the Night” or “Rock and a Hard Place” where it’s totally Mick’s song. And there are times when I come in with “Happy” or “Before They Make Me Run.” I say, “It goes like this. In fact, Mick, you don’t even have to know about it, because you’re not singing” [laughs].

But I always thought songs written by two people are better than those written by one. You get another angle on it: “I didn’t know you thought like that.” The interesting thing is what you say to someone else, even to Mick, who knows me real well. And he takes it away. You get his take.


On Stones albums, you tend to sing ballads — “You Got the Silver,” “Slipping Away,” “The Worst” — rather than rockers.

I like ballads. Also, you learn about songwriting from slow songs. You get a better rock & roll song by writing it slow to start with, and seeing where it can go. Sometimes it’s obvious that it can’t go fast, whereas “Sympathy for the Devil” started out as a Bob Dylan song and ended up as a samba. I just throw songs out to the band.


Did “Happy” start out as a ballad?

No. That happened in one grand bash in France for Exile. I had the riff. The rest of the Stones were late for one reason or another. It was only Bobby Keys there and Jimmy Miller, who was producing. I said, “I’ve got this idea; let’s put it down for when the guys arrive.” I put down some guitar and vocal, Bobby was on baritone sax and Jimmy was on drums. We listened to it, and I said, “I can put another guitar there and a bass.” By the time the Stones arrived, we’d cut it. I love it when they drip off the end of the fingers. And I was pretty happy about it, which is why it ended up being called “Happy.”


How do you and Mick write now? Take “Don’t Stop,” for example, one of the four new songs on Forty Licks.

It’s basically all Mick. He had the song when we got to Paris to record. It was a matter of me finding the guitar licks to go behind the song, rather than it just chugging along. We don’t see a lot of each other — I live in America, he lives in England. So when we get together, we see what ideas each has got: “I’m stuck on the bridge.” “Well, I have this bit that might work.” A lot of what Mick and I do is fixing and touching up, writing the song in bits, assembling it on the spot. In “Don’t Stop,” my job was the fairy dust.


What would it take for the Stones to have hit singles now, the way you churned them out in the 1960s and 1970s?

I haven’t thought like that for years. “Start Me Up” surprised me, honestly — it was a fiveyearold rhythm track. Even then, in ’81, I wasn’t aiming for Number One. I was into making albums.
It was important, when we started, to have hits. And it taught you a lot of things quickly: what makes a good record, how to say things in two minutes thirty seconds. If it was four seconds longer, they chopped it off. It was good school, but it’s been so long since I’ve made records with the idea of having a hit single. I’m out of that game.


Charlie Watts gets an enormous ovation every night when Mick introduces him. But Charlie’s also quite an enigma — the quiet conscience of the Stones.

Charlie is a great English eccentric. I mean, how can you describe a guy who buys a 1936 Alfa Romeo just to look at the dashboard? Can’t drive — just sits there and looks at it. He’s an original, and he happens to be one of the best drummers in the world. Without a drummer as sharp as Charlie, playing would be a drag.

He’s very quiet — but persuasive. It’s very rare that Charlie offers an opinion. If he does, you listen. Mick and I fall back on Charlie more than would be apparent. Many times, if there’s something between Mick and I, it’s Charlie I’ve got to talk to.


For example?

It could be as simple as whether to play a certain song. Or I’ll say, “Charlie, should I go to Mick’s room and hang him?” And he’ll say no [laughs]. His opinion counts.

How has your relationship with Ron Wood changed since he gave up drinking?

I tell Ronnie, “I can’t tell the difference between if you’re pissed out of your brain or straight as an arrow.” He’s the same guy. But Ronnie never got off the last tour. He kept on after we finished the last show. On the road it’s all right, because you burn off a lot of the stuff you do onstage. But when you get home and you’re not in touch with your environment, your family — he didn’t stop. He realized he had to do it. It was his decision. When I found out about it, he was already in the spin dryer.

Ronnie has always had a light heart. That’s his front. But there is a deeper guy in there. I know the feeling. I probably wouldn’t have gotten into heroin if it hadn’t been a way for me to protect myself. I could walk into the middle of all the bullshit, softly surrounded by this cool, be my own man inside, and everybody had to deal with it. Mick does it his way. Ronnie does it his way.


Do you miss having a drinking partner?

Shit, I am my drinking partner. Intoxication? I’m polytoxic. Whatever drinking or drugs I do is never as big a deal to me as they have been to other people. It’s not a philosophy with me. The idea of taking something in order to be Keith Richards is bizarre to me.


Were there drugs you tried and didn’t like?

Loads. I was very selective. Speed — nah. Pure pharmaceutical cocaine — that’s great, but it ain’t there anymore. Heroin — the best is the best. But when it comes to Mexican shoe scrapings, ugh. Good weed is good weed.


What about acid?

I enjoyed it. Acid arrived just as we had worn ourselves out on the road, in 1966. It was kind of a vacation. I never went for the idea that this was some special club — the Acid Test and that bollocks.

I found it interesting that you were way out there but still functioning normally, doing things like driving; I’d stop off at the shops. Meanwhile, you were zooming off. Methedrine and bennies never did appeal to me. Downers — now and again: “I’ve got to get some sleep.” But if you don’t go to sleep, you have a great time [laughs].


How much did your drug use in the 1970s alienate Mick?

He wasn’t exactly Mr. Clean and I was Mr. Dirty. But I withdrew a lot from the basic day-to-day of the Stones. It usually only took one of us to deal with most things. But when I did come out of it and offered to shoulder the burden, I noticed that Mick was quite happy to keep the burden to himself. He got used to calling the shots.

I was naive — I should have thought about it. I have no doubt that here or there Mick used the fact that I was on the stuff, and everybody knew it: “You don’t want to talk to Keith, he’s out of it.” Hey, it was my own fault. I did what I did, and you just don’t walk back in again.


Describe the state of your friendship with Mick. Is friendship the right word?

Absolutely. It’s a very deep one. The fact that we squabble is proof of it. It goes back to the fact that I’m an only child. He’s one of the few people I know from my childhood. He is a brother. And you know what brothers are like, especially ones who work together. In a way, we need to provoke each other, to find out the gaps and see if we’re onboard together.



Does it bother you that your musical life together isn’t enough for him — that he wants to make solo records?

He’ll never lie about in a hammock, just hanging out. Mick has to dictate to life. He wants to control it. To me, life is a wild animal. You hope to deal with it when it leaps at you. That is the most marked difference between us. He can’t go to sleep without writing out what he’s going to do when he wakes up. I just hope to wake up, and it’s not a disaster.

My attitude was probably formed by what I went through as a junkie. You develop a fatalistic attitude toward life. He’s a bunch of nervous energy. He has to deal with it in his own way, to tell life what’s going to happen rather than life telling you.


Was he like that in 1965?

Not so much. He’s very shy, in his own way. It’s pretty funny to say that about one of the biggest extroverts in the world. Mick’s biggest fear is having his privacy. Mick sometimes treats the world as if it’s attacking him. It’s his defense, and that has molded his character to a point where sometimes you feel like you can’t get in yourself. Anybody in the band will tell you that. But it comes from being in that position for so long — being Mick Jagger.



What don’t you like about his solo albums?

Wimpy songs, wimpy performance, bad recording. That’s about enough. I’ve done solo things here and there, but the Stones are numero uno. The Stones are the reason I’m here. They are my whole working life. I never had a job. To me, it’s very important that there is a very close unity presented to everyone else: “Shields up.” Outside projects, I felt, were a detriment to the Stones. If what you did is fantastic, you’re going to want to carry it on. If it’s a bum, you’ve gotta run back to the Stones and say, “Protect me.” That’s not a good position for a fighting unit. “I’ve got deserters”: I used to think like that.

But you can’t keep everybody in that insular thing forever. I mean, Charlie takes his jazz band around the world. You’ve got to turn it into an asset. Whatever it was, we all went out there and tried it on. But we all come back to the Rolling Stones. There is an electromagnetic thing that goes on with it. It draws us back to the center.


What do you think of Mick’s knighthood?

I have to revert to a Stones point of view. These are the guys who tried to put us in jail in the Sixties, and then you’re taking a minor honor. Also, to get a phone call from Mick saying, “Tony Blair insists that I take it” — this is a way to present it to me?

It’s antirespect to the Stones — that was my initial opinion. I thought it would have been the smarter move to say thanks, but no thanks. After being abused by Her Majesty’s government for so many years, being hounded almost out of existence, I found it weird that he’d want to take a badge. But what the @#$%& does it matter? It doesn’t make any difference in the way we work. Within the Stones, it’s probably made him buckle down a bit more, because he knows he’s being disapproved of [laughs].


In the opening lines of “The Worst,” you sing, “I said from the first/I’m the worst.” Are you a hard man to love?

Ask those who love me. In any new relationship, I tell people, “Do you know what you’re dealing with? Don’t tell me that I didn’t say from the first, I’m the worst.” It’s my riot act. The last time I said it was to my old lady twentyodd years ago. I say, out front, take it on, or get out.



You and your wife, Patti, have two teenage daughters, Alexandra and Theodora. And as a dad, you have a unique perspective on the mischief kids get up to, because you’ve done most of it.

I’ve never had a problem with my kids, even though Marlon and Angela [two of his three children by former girlfriend Anita Pallenberg] grew up in rough times: cops busting in, me being nuts. [Another son, Tara, died in 1976; he was ten weeks old.] I feel akin to the old whaling captains: “We’re taking the boat out, see you in three years.” Dad disappearing for weeks and months — it’s never affected my kids’ sense of security. It’s just what Dad does.



What about serious talks? About drugs?

That’s something you see on TV ads. Alexandra and Theodora are my best friends. It’s not fingerwagging. I just keep an eye on them. If they got a problem, they come and talk to me. They’ve grown up with friends whose idea of me — who knows what they’ve been told at school? But they know who I am. And they always come to my defense [smiles]. Which is the way I like it.



Describe your life at home in Connecticut: When you get up, what do you do?

I made a determined effort after the last tour to get up with the family. Which for me is a pretty impressive goal. But I did it — I’d get up at seven in the morning. After a few months, I was allowed to drive the kids to school. Then I was allowed to take the garbage out. Before that, I didn’t even know where the recycling bin was.

I read a lot. I might have a little sail around Long Island Sound if the weather is all right. I do a lot of recording in my basement — writing songs, keeping up to speed. I have no fixed routine. I wander about the house, wait for the maids to clean the kitchen, then @#$%& it all up again and do some frying. Patti and I go out once a week, if there’s something on in town — take the old lady out for dinner with a bunch of flowers, get the rewards [smiles].



Have you listened to the new guitar bands — the Hives, the Vines, the White Stripes? The Strokes are opening for you on this tour.

I haven’t really. I’m looking forward to seeing them. I don’t want to listen to the records until I see them.



But is it encouraging to see new guitar music being made in your image?

That’s the whole point. What Muddy Waters did for us is what we should do for others. It’s the old thing, what you want written on your tombstone as a musician: “He Passed It On.” I can’t wait to see these guys — they’re like my babies, you know?

I’m not a champion of the guitar as an instrument. The guitar is just one of the most compact and sturdy. And the reason I still play it is that the more you do, the more you learn. I found a new chord the other day. I was like, “Shit, if I had known that years ago …” That’s what’s beautiful about the guitar. You think you know it all, but it keeps opening up new doors. I look at life as six strings and twelve frets. If I can’t figure out everything that’s in there, what chance do I have of figuring out anything else?



A lot of people who were a big part of your life with the Stones are no longer here. Who do you miss the most?

Ian Stewart was a body blow. I was waiting for him in a hotel in London. He was going to see a doctor and then come and see me. Charlie called about three in the morning: “You still waiting for Stu? He ain’t coming, Keith.”

Stu was the father figure. He was the stitch that pulled us together. He had a very large heart, above and beyond the call of duty. When other people would get mean and jealous, he could rise above it. He taught me a lot about taking a couple of breaths before you go off the handle. Mind you, it didn’t always work. But I got the message.

Gram Parsons — I figured we’d put things together for years, because there was so much promise there. I didn’t think he was walking on the broken eggshells so much. I was in the john at a gig in Innsbruck, Austria. I’m taking a leak, and Bobby Keys walks in. He says, “I got a bad one for you. Parsons is dead.” We were supposed to be staying in Innsbruck that night. I said @#$%& it. I rented a car, and Bobby and I drove to Munich and did the clubs — tried to forget about it for a day or two.

Have you contemplated your own death?

I let other people do that. They’ve been doing it for years. They’re experts, apparently. Hey, I’ve been there — the white light at the end of the tunnel — three or four times. But when it doesn’t happen, and you’re back in — that’s a shock.

The standard joke is that in spite of every drink and drug you’ve ever taken, you will outlive cockroaches and nuclear holocaust. You’ll be the last man standing.

It’s very funny, how that position has been reserved for me. It’s only because they’ve been wishing me to death for so many years, and it didn’t happen. So I get the reverse tip of the hat. All right, if you want to believe it — I will write all of your epitaphs.

But I don’t flaunt it. I never tried to stay up longer than anybody else just to announce to the media that I’m the toughest. It’s just the way I am. The only thing I can say is, you gotta know yourself.

After forty years, still doing two and a half hours onstage every night — that’s the biggest last laugh of all.

Maybe that’s the answer. If you want to live a long life, join the Rolling Stones.

Re: Post: Magazine Articles
Posted by: exilestones ()
Date: October 4, 2022 20:06

Flashback: Rolling Stones, Stevie Wonder Mash Up ‘Uptight’ and ‘Satisfaction’
Superstars joined each other onstage for the thrilling encore on the last dates of their 1972 tour
BY KORY GROW



Mick Taylor (L) and Mick Jagger (C) of the Rolling Stones perform with Stevie Wonder (R) at Madison Square Garden.
The concert was the final performance of the group's 30-city, 3-month tour of the United States and Canada.



IN THE SPRING of 1972, Stevie Wonder released Music of My Mind and the Rolling Stones put out Exile on Main Street. Both albums were instant hits, with the former’s reaching Number 21 on the Billboard 200 and Exile reaching Number One. So when the Stones recruited Wonder, then just 22, to open up their summer tour that year, it was an unstoppable combo that became even more exciting when Wonder joined the Stones at four dates for a medley of his 1966 hit “Uptight (Everything’s Alright)” and the Stones’ hit from the previous year, “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction,” as the encore.

On July 26th, the second of two nights at New York City’s Madison Square Garden, Mick Jagger helped Wonder to his piano and the horn section got loose. Eventually they kicked into “Uptight” with its trumpet flourishes and Wonder sang the song with his own band backing him up. Jagger snuck up behind Wonder and clapped his hands, and eventually helped him to center stage when the song transitioned into “Satisfaction,” which Jagger took the lead on. Wonder joined in on the “and I try” parts, and the two singers started dancing in one of the most jubilant onstage rave-ups of their respective careers, jumping and holding hands and throwing things around the stage.

Filmmakers Robert Frank and Daniel Seymour captured footage of the performance for their cinéma vérité documentary @#$%& Blues, but the film never got an official release, due to the Stones suing to keep it away from the public eye because of their misbehavior in it. The full thing is now available unofficially on YouTube.






Uptight/Satisfaction Live at Madison Square Garden

Re: Post: Magazine Articles
Posted by: exilestones ()
Date: October 10, 2022 18:53

“ALL I WANTED TO DO WAS PLAY LIKE CHUCK BERRY”: KEITH RICHARDS
Guitar heroes don’t come any bigger than Keith Richards. We spoke to the
eternal riff machine that drives the greatest rock ’n’ roll band in the world about his solo
records, his recording process, his gear and his technique for corralling the Stones.


By Paul Trynka
20th August 2019



Keith Richards 1974
Image: Graham Wiltshire

This interview was originally published in 1997.

His own phrase is “five strings, two fingers, one @#$%&”. But everyone else has their own description of the Keith Richards phenomenon: from ‘the human riff’ through to ‘the world’s most elegantly wasted human being’. Sitting after-hours in his New York headquarters, Richards displays his own distinctive brand of fitness, born out of nervous energy rather than intensive exercise. The famous lines are etched as deeply in his face as the photographs suggest – and they match perfectly the rips in his favourite denim jacket or the dents in Micawber, his beloved Tele. Keef’s not knackered, he’s just nicely worn-in.

His new album, Main Offender, proves that Keith loves making music; whether it’s with the Stones, blues musicians like John Lee Hooker and Johnnie Johnson, or The X-Pensive Winos. “The main thing that’s struck me about this album is how lucky I am that I’ve managed to get the same bunch of guys together again, because great musicians don’t tend to hang around for three or four years. And they’re pretty hot!

“There’s not as many guest appearances as there are on the first one, but one of the things we figured from taking the Winos on the road is that you’ve got five guys there, but they all play three instruments, so you’ve got like 15 combinations. It rebounded on me, because I ended up playing bass again, something I haven’t done since Sympathy For The Devil or Let’s Spend The Night Together.”



Richards has frequently said that he’d have been a drummer if he could have coordinated all four limbs, and his partnership with Steve Jordan defines the sound of the new album, just as much as his partnership with Charlie Watts delineates the elegant chaos of the Stones. The album is bright and live, permeated by the airy snap of Jordan’s high-tuned snare drum, and on songs like Hate It When You Leave and Demon, Richards reminds us that he has a knack for classic, sensitive soul songs, as well as for vicious, simplistic guitar hooks like those of 999 or Wicked As It Seems.


Slave to the rhythm

Main Offender is miles away from the standard indulgence of a solo album. “In the Stones, if I stop playing, everything clatters to a halt. But these guys really push you. They’re confident and they know their stuff enough not to let me slouch around. So with the Stones, I’ll stop playing, go ‘I can’t remember the bridge’ and they stop, because with the Stones, there’s no point in going on. But the Winos will go: ‘Come on Keith, pick it up!’ And that’s what I needed, ’cause no-one’s gonna kick my arse in the Stones. I can fit in that bubble very comfortably, but maybe comfortable is not where it’s at. It’s one of the few times that a kick in the ass is real good!”

Richards’ ability to walk in a room, snap his fingers and work out if it will prove sympathetic to live recording is well known. So it’s no surprise that all the rhythm tracks for this album were laid down completely live: “We played in one room together. The drums were always in the same room. We put some amps in isolation booths, especially the bass amp, and usually slaved a small amp outside so we could still do it live. And we used a lot of ambient mics, so we had a lot of room sound.



Keith in a studio in 1966 with the 1962 Epiphone Casino ES-230TDV, with Tremotone unit, that he used in the mid 60s.
Michael Ochs Archives / Getty Images


“For studios, I’m more bothered about the room than the recording hardware, because we bring in a lot of our own equipment. Basically, I look for the room itself, how high it is, what shape it is and what kind of echo it’s got. And some of the time, rooms can fool you and you think it’s gonna be easy… and the first couple of days of the session, you’re moving the drums around.

“But when you find the right setup, it’s great. So, usually, when I start, I walk in the room and say ‘Are you going to be a friend or a foe?’. “I record without headphones as much as possible – usually, the drummer has to wear them. So usually, I compromise: one ear off, one ear on. Cans are a pain – you wish you could live without them, but you can’t quite.”

Richards is a master of recording guitars, and over the years has used compressed acoustics, Nashville and other tunings, and complex overdubs which always end up sounding simple. But those big guitar sounds almost invariably come from small amplifiers: “The stuff that sounds really big always comes out of a tiny amp! So the biggest amp I used on Main Offender was a Fender Twin, then down to Champs and Silvertones.

“Steve’s one of these collectors; his apartment’s a block away from where we were doing the overdubbing, so when we need an amp, we just go and raid the crypt, rummage around. We found this little Silvertone, this tiny little amp – and it sounds massive. We tended to do a lot of overdubs on different songs, so I can’t say exactly what songs we used that one on, but on tape, it sounds fantastic. The thing with old amps, though – they’re just like people! The older they get, the more opinionated they get about whether they’re going to perform for you or not.

“I love those old amps more than my life, but they can be bitches. Try three or four Fender Champs and they’re all different – one might have this extra zing on the high end, another’s got this dirty graunch on the bottom. But that’s the beauty of them, too.”




Keith playing his 1975 Tele Custom at the Oshawa Civic Auditorium in 1979.
Image: Richard E. Aaron / Redferns


The band master on Bandmasters

“For this album, I also used a Fender Bandmaster, which is halfway between a Bassman and a guitar amp. And I use a Fender Bassman, which is almost impossible to record, but now and then, when you get it in the right spot, it’s perfect.”

When you build up a recorded track, do you start off with a picture of the finished result in your head, or do you try parts out and see how they sound? “I don’t have a final idea in my head of how it will sound. When we start recording the song, it’s got the moves, the gut, the beat, all you can do is screw it up or make it better, so you start to put stuff on top. A lot of the time, you know what the first thing it needs is, you know you have to put one guitar on top, so one thing usually leads to another. Once the song’s out of the cage, you grab its tail and say: ‘Where you gonna take me?’

“I don’t tend to think I’ve created a song, I prefer to think that they were there, I was around and I picked it up. From there, I could make it into something good. It’s like being there and capturing it and hoping it will take me somewhere interesting.”


Thief in the night

Richards has compared his songwriting to being like a human radio, where he picks up songs out of the ether. Does he ever worry they might be someone else’s? “Yeah. Especially the good ones. I think it’s not mine. There was one Stones song, even after it was out, been a hit and had been around for years, I was convinced I’d stolen it. Nobody could tell me where it came from, but I was convinced it was a total steal – it was ages before I could put it out, I was so convinced it belonged to someone else.”

Do you ever find yourself at a loss about what to write next, we ask? “Loads of times. Very rarely does a song come all at once. Half a song, snatches of an idea, but where does it go from here? You can reach an impasse. But writing with other people, more times than you think possible, he’s got a piece of music he doesn’t know what to do with, either.

“Mick and I have done that so many times we can’t believe it. And a lot of the time, the songs will be in different keys, and I’m thinking, how the hell do we fit these together, I’m gonna have to change the key, and Mick might just say, ‘Just play it’ – you just stick them together – and it works!”


Keith takes a leaf out of Eddie Van Halen’s book at Madison Square Garden in 1979.
Michael Putland / Getty Images

With Jagger and Richards established as rock music’s most enduring songwriting team, it’s easy to forget that it was manager Andrew Loog Oldham who forced the two into a room together and told them to write. “We just wanted to be a blues band – and in 1962, blues was not a way to stardom. It was aimed at giving people a kick in the teeth and waving our blues flags – then suddenly you’re a pop star. When I started, all I wanted to do was play like Chuck [Berry]. I thought if I could do that, I’d be the happiest man in the world. Then, when I found out I could do it, I thought, well maybe there is another aim in life. But when I started I’d dream of playing with Muddy Waters, but the only way I’d imagine it happening would be ‘if I make it to heaven – and he makes it there – then we can play together’.”

It wasn’t long after the release of the Stones’ first album that Richards achieved his wish; the band went to Chess Studios in June 1964 in search of better recording quality than Britain’s comparatively backward studios. “The weirdest thing was that when we met Muddy he was painting Chess studios. You walk in and start recording, on your hands and knees in this mecca, and they say you might like to meet this guy who’s up on a stepladder in a white overall and you say: ‘Who’s that?’ That’s Muddy Waters.

“It was another of those slaps around the face. He wasn’t selling records. And at the same time, he was a real gentleman. I would have expected a ‘get out of here, white trash’ reaction. But those guys were gentlemen, they saw wider than the music business. They immediately nurtured us, and had no reason to know that in a year or two they’d be selling more records than they ever had in their lives.”

Although Keith’s playing is perhaps closer to the spirit of Chuck Berry and Jimmy Reed than any of his peers, the first few years of the Stones output saw him move light-years beyond his roots. Early Jagger/Richards compositions like 19th Nervous Breakdown saw him honing the art of the simple rock riff, an art which Richards raised to its apogee with (I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction – a song which, incidentally, provoked an early Jagger/Richards argument, Richards believing his own song was a one-riff gimmick; Jagger, band and Loog Oldham convinced it was a surefire winner. “Yeah, I thought it was a Mickey Mouse song. It was one of those songs that just comes in a dream, real easy, but I thought the fuzztone was just a gimmick.”



No. 1 in Britain and the US, …Satisfaction set the seal on the writing partnership, and also confirmed the band’s movement away from the leadership of Brian Jones. Keith has commented before how Jones lost interest in the guitar, experimenting instead with the likes of the harpsichord and dulcimer. Jones’ loss of commitment – and later his death – left Richards with a void to fill that would inspire his greatest moments. A key point in this move was his discovery of open-G tuning.

“That all happened when the Stones had exhaustedly come to a halt in 1966 and I started listening to all my blues records again and reading the liner notes, and realised: ‘Right, he’s using a different tuning’. So in that period between ’66 and Beggars Banquet, I started getting into blues tunings, Fred McDowell, 12-string and slide shit. But still in D and E.”

At the same time, Richards had made friends with Gram Parsons, who provided a complete education in country music: “Gram taught me the difference between Nashville and Bakersfield – I’d loved the sound of that music, but Gram took me right into the background of it.” But although Parsons’ country feel would influence tracks like Country Honk and Love In Vain, the one-time Byrd was “strictly a standard tuning guy”.

It was Ry Cooder, who came in for the Sister Morphine sessions, who showed Richards the tuning he would make his own. “I met Ry in 1968, when he was hanging around with Taj Mahal and Jesse Ed Davis. There were people like Clarence White around, too, some good guitar players! So we’d all pick stuff up from each other. Ry was using open G for slide, I saw him and thought, that’s a really nice tuning. It restricts you so much; five strings, three notes, two fingers… one @#$%&!”



keith richards telecaster fender
Image: Michael Putland


Hot streak

“There’s something about being restricted that opens up the possibilities. With a synthesizer, you can do anything you like. I don’t want to do anything I like! I wanna do something that ties me down, where I can manoeuvre. So I started playing in G without the slide, and started to find other chords and realise this was a really good vehicle for me. Especially ’cause Brian had just… croaked, it was a period where there was no other guitar player and I was trying to figure out what the hell to do next. Then I started to work with Mick Taylor and we really hit our stride, Beggars Banquet, Let It Bleed, Sticky Fingers, then we had to move out; Exile On Main St. we worked together all in one joint.”

Throughout the course of those albums, Richards would find his own vision, defining and refining the Stones’ sound more and more. He was experimenting with Nashville tuning (in which the four ‘bass’ strings are tuned an octave higher – which, when doubled with a standard tuning, gives a 12-string effect), as well as using acoustics, preamped and compressed by a cheap tape recorder for rhythm parts on songs like Street Fighting Man. By the time of Exile…, the Stones were recording in the damp basement of Richards’ house in the French Riviera, and the chaotic conditions produced what many regarded as the Stones’ finest work.


[youtu.be]

“Especially making Exile…, I found this thing [the guitar] can do loads of things. It was there I really started appreciating the guitar. I thought: it’s got so many possibilities, and I’m just tinkering with it. And I still am. But it was there that I realised that this wasn’t a tool that I could master, it was something that I could spend my whole life doing.”

Richards has often commented that with Mick Taylor in the band “it became more like regular rhythm and lead guitar – it was much harder to get the Stones’ sound”. But there are many stories over how he was replaced. And was Ry Cooder, who helped Keith find his own sound, ever in the running for a place in the Stones?

“Ry? Musically, yes, I would have had him in the band. Personality-wise, no way. Ry wouldn’t have fitted – and he was always his own man. I only found out lately that Eric wanted to jump in after Mick Taylor, but never did say so. But he expected us to call! It’s like: ‘Why didn’t you call me?’ – ‘Because you’re too damn good – and you’re your own man!’. There’s certain guys that are band players and there’s certain guys that ain’t. That’s not a reflection on anybody. Eric’s a great leader, but he’s not a good bandleader. Eric’s a chameleon – I love him dearly and he knows that… he’s changed his hair again. And those suits! But if there’s anybody lazier than me, it’s Eric. He’s got it all, but Eric’s like Mick Taylor in a way, he needs to hire guys to play with him to kick him up the arse.

“The best playing I’ve heard from Eric in over 10 years was that thing with Chuck Berry, Wee Wee Hours, when he had a band kicking him up the arse, and he had to come through. And when he has to come through, Eric will come through like dynamite, but a lot of the time, he’s cruising. You can be good, but you’re not gonna be good with a bunch of Yes Men. They might be fantastic musicians, but he’s avoiding guys who say ‘Eric, you’re wrong’. You need a team.”



Keith on the Pyramid Stage at the 2013 Glastonbury Festival.
Ian Gavan


Putting the band back together

Richards’ obsession with keeping his team together has also caused its frustrations. “The 70s were a hard time. Especially when they kicked us out of London, it’s very hard to keep a tight unit together once you’ve been displaced from your own turf. So our main battle then was to keep the band together and write songs when you’re several thousand miles apart, rather than ‘I’ve written a song, I’ll be round in five minutes’. But then you realise that this is all a challenge… Nobody’s taken music this far – and it’s a voyage of discovery.

“I’m looking forward more because now we’ve got over that stopping and starting thing. There’s no way the Stones would have made Steel Wheels, starting it in February and ending it in June, if we hadn’t done separate stuff. You would’ve spent two months getting the band into shape. For musicians, it’s practice. You can’t take two years off. So early in the New Year, Mick and I will get together and see what we’ve got. Bill’s another subject, though.”

Doubts about whether Wyman will return to the Stones camp after the current hiatus in the band’s activity have been circulating for some time now. At one point, it was even rumoured Jagger’s solo sidekick, Doug Wimbish, would be stepping in. Richards doesn’t want to see any change.

“Bill, I’ve got to see eyeball to eyeball to get this thing sorted out once and for all. I don’t want to say too much. My basic attitude is the Stones are getting together and I expect him to be there, I don’t want to see this line-up change now. My basic attitude is the Stones are getting together and I expect him to be there, but at the same time I know I can’t leave it that long. I don’t wanna hear any more rumours and bullshit. It won’t stop the Stones going on. I don’t know what we’d do. Maybe he’s happy running his restaurants… I don’t know.

“Bill’s a very noncommital guy, which is why I can’t talk to him on the phone. Charlie says maybe we could threaten to replace him with a chick – maybe that will do the trick! It’s a drag when your family squabbles are in the papers and everything you do is a potential headline. My view of life is totally distorted.”


[youtu.be]


Wild horses

But whatever happens, Keith will find a way of keeping his band going. And whatever mistakes they might make along the way – well, that’s all part of the grand design.

“It could fall apart. It’s a balancing act. But you can fall down and get up. I guess I got over my embarrassment over falling down in public a long time ago. That, to me, is what makes it interesting. You set yourself up for a fall, you don’t wanna fall but you know you can get up.

“I really feel for new bands that are coming up because these days, you need a quarter of a million dollars before you can start. And with that big money, the marketing men want to play it safe. And when you play safe, the best you’re gonna come up with is something that’s not bad. And we’re not here talking because music is not bad. We’re here because it’s @#$%& great! Playing safe is not what it’s about. This music is all about beautiful @#$%&-ups. And beautiful recoveries.”

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Posted by: exilestones ()
Date: November 19, 2022 02:21



Scout’s Dishonor (1950s)
Keith Richards

As a teenager, Keith spent two years in the Boy Scouts. But this brief flirtation with public service ended after he smuggled a couple of bottles of whiskey into a jamboree and found himself engaging in fisticuffs with fellow members of what he called the "Beaver Patrol." "Soon afterwards there were a couple of fights that went down between us and some Yorkshire guys, and so I was under suspicion," he once recalled, according to Victor Bockris' Keith Richards: The Biography. "All the fighting was found out after I went to slug one guy but hit the tent pole instead, and broke a bone in my hand!" A few weeks later, he punched out "some dummo recruit" and was expelled.









A Near-Death Shocker (1965)

Richards has almost died many times, but there's one close call he says is his "most spectacular": On December 3rd, 1965, while playing "The Last Time" in front of 5,000 fans at the Memorial Auditorium in Sacramento, California, his guitar touched his microphone stand, a flame shot out, and Richards dropped to the ground, unconscious. Promoter Jeff Hughson thought Richards had been shot. Said attendee Mick Martin, "I literally saw Keith fly into the air backward. I thought he was dead. I was horrified. We all were." It turns out Richards had been shocked by the electrical surge from the mic. He was carried out with oxygen tubes and rushed to the hospital. Richards later laughed as he recalled hearing a doctor in the hospital say, "Well, they either wake up or they don't." Richards may have survived because of the thick soles of his suede Hush Puppies shoes, which halted the electrical charge. He was back onstage the next night.

MORE: [www.rollingstone.com]

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Posted by: exilestones ()
Date: November 19, 2022 15:41

Newcastle City Hall and a night of mayhem when the Rolling Stones appeared
by David Morton
2020


In October, 1965 one hysterical fan halted the Rolling Stones show at Newcastle City Hall when she tried to get to grips with Mick Jagger
(Image: Newcastle Chronicle)


The 1960s were starting to swing 55 years ago.

In the burgeoning world of pop music, the two major acts were the clean-cut working-class Beatles from Liverpool; and the scruffy middle-class blues wannabes from London, the Rolling Stones.

It was the latter band who were appearing at Newcastle City Hall, this week 55 years ago - on what would be a chaotic evening at the Northumberland Road venue.

The Stones, fronted by 22-year-old lead singer Mick Jagger and 21-year-old guitarist Keith Richards, arrived on Tyneside with five consecutive number-one hit singles under their belt: It's All Over Now; Little Red Rooster; The Last Time; Satisfaction; and Get Off My Cloud.

Jagger and Richards, alongside guitarist Brian Jones, drummer Charlie Watts, and bassist Bill Wyman had also returned from their successful first tour of the United States a few months earlier in a year when they also toured the UK and Europe almost constantly.

The band had hit the big time, but the pace was grueling.

Each date - the Newcastle date was sandwiched between shows in Glasgow and Stockton - required the Stones to put on two performances, one at 6.15 pm, and another at 8.45 pm.

Ticket for the City Hall shows was 8s 6d (43p in today's money) and 6s (30p) for a bill that featured the Rolling Stones, and a support roster of acts who would achieve varying degrees of success - Unit Four Plus Two, the Spencer Davis Group, Ray Cameron, The Habits and The End.

The night would not be without incident.

'Mick Jagger attacked by wild fans' was our headline in the following day's paper, accompanied by a picture of City Hall stewards dragging a female fan off the stage.



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Posted by: exilestones ()
Date: November 19, 2022 15:58

The Rolling Stones: I'd Much Rather Be With The Boys (1965)
Graham Reid




Right at the end of the recently released Rolling Stones doco
Charlie is My Darling -- which captures extraordinary footage of a brief tour
in Ireland in '65 with a stage invasion and general mayhem -- we see the
Stones goofing off and playing a song that was a rarity.

This one.

And it's rarity value is two-fold. First it was credited to Keith Richards and
their manager Andrew Loog Oldham, and second that although they did a demo of
it they never actually recorded the song but but gave it away to the much
forgotten Toggery Five (who changed it substantially, to no avail, see clip below).

It is widely hailed however as one of the better originals which the Stones
never intended for release and its lyrics are interesting. They are about
valuing the gang more than some girl and, coming from Richards who was always
fiercely loyal to the Stones, that makes them rather telling and prescient.


It's still not a lost classic, but in its nods to the Four Seasons, its
Spector-lite production from Oldham and its Fifties referencing it does have a
certain something.

Despite them not wanting it released, this came out anyway on the
cobbled-together Metamorphosis album of '75 which their new manager Allen Klein
thought might spark interest in cover versions.

And if you do your homework on the minor songs included on that album, that
actually proved to be the case. Although one of the covers would have been
major money-spiners as Klein hoped.

So Metamorphosis is still what it looks like, cobbled-together and done for the money.

I'd Much Rather Be With The Boys however is the one that got away.





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Posted by: exilestones ()
Date: November 23, 2022 10:18

The Rolling Stones’ ‘Out of Time’: The Backstory
by Harvey Kubernik

            


During 2016, Charlie Watts of the Rolling Stones invited this writer to a band rehearsal in a North Hollywood, Calif., soundstage as they prepared for their two-night Desert Trip booking in Southern California.

I chatted with Watts, Ronnie Wood and Keith Richards during a break. Wood asked me about the setlist. I kidded about my fantasy inclusion of “Out of Time,” a song the Stones had recorded in Hollywood and first released on the U.K. version of 1966’s Aftermath album. The song showed up a year later on an American Stones compilation LP called Flowers but was probably best known by the cover version cut by British singer Chris Farlowe, who took it to #1 in the U.K.

During a 2004 interview with Bill Wyman, the Stones’ longtime bassist, I asked about the Stones’ Hollywood recording sessions.

“We had recorded at Chess [Records in Chicago] a few times,” Wyman said. “When we came into L.A., we went to RCA [Studios]. We walked into the studio and it was too big. We were really worried. We were intimidated. We were used to recording in little places like [London’s] Regent Sound. The studio was like a hotel room. And Chess wasn’t very big either. Suddenly we’re at RCA and it’s enormous. It was like Olympic [in England] later. We thought, ‘God, we can’t record in here. We’re gonna get the wrong sound.’

“But Andrew [Loog Oldham, the Stones’ manager/producer] had this brain wave and he put us all in the corner of one room, turned all the lights down, and just tucked us all around in a small circle. We forgot about the rest of the room and the height of the ceiling, and we just did it in this little corner. It personalizes it much more, and as soon as the Stones did that, and got into this little area and started playing, it worked.

“Dave Hassinger, the engineer, got all the sounds we wanted. Brian [Jones] picked up all the instruments in the studio: the dulcimers, the glockenspiel, the marimbas. I played some of that stuff as well.


Brian Jones

“We just experimented in there. Brian brought in electric dulcimers, marimbas, autoharps. He just did so much to those songs from 1964-1966 in RCA. Brian created so many new sounds. Then he got the sitar together, just so he could play a riff. He wasn’t as good as George Harrison on it. George really learned the sitar and studied it. Brian didn’t, he just picked it up and worked out a little riff for one song. He did it with flutes. And he was brilliant at that. Dave Hassinger helped us do those things. We never had one bad word with Dave. At the time we didn’t know the heritage of the RCA studios. Andrew did.”

“There’s incredible clarity to what they were doing,” Oldham explained to me in a 2004 interview conducted for my book Hollywood Shack Job: Rock Music In Film and on Your Screen.

“It was like a linear thing. Filmic. They were vivid, and the key to that vividness was Brian Jones. The organ on ‘She Smiled Sweetly’ by Brian is just amazing. I like ‘She Smiled Sweetly’ more than ‘Lady Jane and ‘Ruby Tuesday.’ ‘Sweetly’ was boy/girl, living on the same floor, whereas both those other songs have a ‘To the Manner Born’ quality to them, trying to write and evoke. And Mick’s vocals…‘Out of Time’ I love. On the initial recording it’s Mick Jagger pulling off [Motown singer] Jimmy Ruffin. [The albums] Between the Buttons and Aftermath, without a doubt, quite a few harried moments. And we did it in Hollywood at RCA Studios.

“In 1964 I first walked into RCA with [arranger/producer] Jack Nitzsche in studio B. Jack introduced me to Dave Hassinger, the engineer. It only took a minute. I knew I’d found the band their next home.”

The actual take of “Out of Time” used in Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood is different from the Stones’ Aftermath/Flowers recording. This one is from the Rolling Stones’ Metamorphosis compilation album of 1964-1970 outtakes, demos and alternate versions, produced by Oldham and Jimmy Miller and issued in June 1975 by ABKCO Records.

This version was done in England at Pye Studios on April 27-30, 1966, produced by Jagger for Oldham; Jagger had recorded a reference vocal for Chris Farlowe, an artist he was producing, on a backing track comprising English session musicians, including guitarists Jimmy Page and Big Jim Sullivan and an overdubbed horn section assembled from the Ronnie Scott jazz club bandstand. The chart-topping result featuring Farlowe was released on Oldham’s Immediate Records label.

“The Chris Farlowe record produced by Mick was something else, a real piece of work,” emphasized Oldham in our 2004 conversation.

In a later interview in July 2019, for my book Docs That Rock, Music That Matters, Oldham detailed his “Out of Time” studio endeavors. “In one of my dreams that did not come true, Mick and Keith and I were gonna be [Motown songwriters] Holland-Dozier-Holland for Immediate. That was the original idea. But it didn’t work out. Everybody got extra busy, whatever. But that was one of the original thoughts behind it. Mick did a wonderful job on Chris Farlowe’s ‘Out of Time’ and his album. It was expensive, 12, 000 pounds, a lot of money then, the price of a Rolls Royce Phantom V. It was also Mick’s first production with me for Immediate. The only reason Mick, Keith and I started to produce together was that we liked to do things the Beatles hadn’t done.

“There came a settlement between the Rolling Stones and [ABKCO Records owner] Allen Klein in the early ’70s that I didn’t know much about,” Oldham continued. “I was living in Paris with my wife Esther. We got together with Mick and [his then-wife] Bianca. Mick and I were supposed to get together in New York to mix the album that would become Metamorphosis.

“I was not privy to what was going on, but Mick obviously changed his mind and delivered a bunch of lesser stuff to Allen Klein. It was just abysmal. In an attempt to not only rescue the album but make it complete, a full album, [at the time] I was doing elaborate demos of songs [with my Andrew Loog Oldham Orchestra] that Mick and Keith had written, with just Mick and Keith doing some vocals. The Rolling Stones are not playing on them.

“I remembered that Mick had done a reference vocal for Chris Farlowe for ‘Out of Time.’ So, I let Allen have it for Metamorphosis ’cause we needed a decent song. I mixed that and added a lot of people from Connecticut, bass players and background vocals that I used on a Donovan session. That went onto the album [along with] stuff they’d worked on and not bothered to finish: for example, the version of Stevie Wonder’s ‘I Don’t Know Why,’ which was recorded on the night Brian Jones died.



“When I was putting together Metamorphosis in New York at the Record Plant in 1975, John Lennon was next door. I borrowed the horn people from [Lennon’s backup band] Elephant’s Memory. [It was about a minute and a half but] if you listen to it, Mick repeats the same verse and chorus three times. I made it 3:40 with the addition of the horn section and the Connecticut musicians.

In June 2022 Andrew Loog Oldham, now based in Bogota, Colombia, was surely smiling sweetly with the inclusion of “Out of Time” in the Stones’ ’22 setlist.

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Posted by: nickdominguez ()
Date: November 26, 2022 15:53

Article on Spanish Tony Sanchez in this December issue of Classic Rock Magazine


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Posted by: exilestones ()
Date: December 2, 2022 21:15









I'm only posting one sample from this great Rolling Stones website. For more
visit: [stonescave.ning.com]

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Date: December 3, 2022 23:52

The Secrets Behind the Rolling Stones’ “Exile on Main Street” Reissue
Mick Jagger and Keith Richards reevaluate their classic 1972 double album

BY ANDY GREENE
MARCH 9, 2010



photo Robert Knight


Mick Jagger:

Tell me how this new edition of Exile on Main Street came together.

Universal wanted to rerelease Exile, and they asked me if there were any tracks that we didn’t use when we released it originally. And I said, “Well, I doubt it very much.” One, ’cause I thought we probably used most of the tracks anyway, ’cause it was a double album. And secondly, ’cause I couldn’t really be bothered. But then they said, “Please, will you look?” I was quite surprised to find the tapes in such a good state. They all had to be baked in ovens [to] last forever. I added bits and pieces here and there.





What sort of bits and pieces did you add?

I added some percussion. I added some vocals. Keith put guitar on one or two. I added some acoustic guitar and some other things. Charlie [Watts] didn’t need to come in. The drums were all perfect. “Pass the Wine,” for example, was very, very long, so I edited it down. In the spirit of Exile we added some girl background vocals on “Tumbling Dice” and “Shine a Light.” We had some nice background vocals on the originals. But I think in the end it’s very much sounding like it was in those days, so to speak.




Tell me the process of sorting through all this old material.

Keith and I listened to it. We picked things that we rather liked. And then I started doing research on my own and I found out that quite a lot of these pieces were really not from the Exile period at all. They were either earlier or later. Some of them much later. There was one moment where Keith said to me, “God, I think Mick Taylor sounds really good on that one” and I said, “Yeah, it sounds fantastic.” Then I went online and found out that it’s actually B.B. King playing on it and it was done like 10 years ago.

Exile was recorded over quite a long period. Some of it was recorded in Olympic Studios in England, some was recorded in France, and then there was stuff done in L.A. So I set myself a sort of time frame for it. The first recording was “Loving Cup” in 1969, and then the last sessions for Exile were done in 1972. So that was my time period.



Are there songs on the set that you just couldn’t recall making in the first place?

I recall making it all. It was just where and when and with who was another matter. Who’s playing what? It wasn’t always put down who’s playing guitar and who’s playing keyboard and that sort of thing. There are still a few mysteries. Most of it was recorded on an eight-track, some of it was recorded on a 16-track. We kind of figured it out because of that.



Tell me about “Following the River.” That’s a brand new vocal, right?

I just started from nothing on that. The core tape of it was the piano and the drums, bass, and guitar. There was no top line or lyric. I started from scratch — I mean, that’s what I do, and I’ve done it many times before. And it’s daunting in the beginning, but after a while you get into it.



So how do you go about writing lyrics?

You just sit down and write it as you would anything else, you know? Sometimes you write the lyrics while you’re sitting down playing the piano or guitar, and the lyrics come to you while you’re writing the song. And sometimes you write the melody first and you have to write all the lyrics. And sometimes you get half the lyrics. And sometimes there’s a track that you didn’t turn up on the session. And they say, “Mick, we’ve done this great track. Will you write the words?” And that was this one.



I’ve heard you say in the past that you thought Exile is a bit overrated. Do you still feel that way?

Well, that was like maybe when people started saying, “Is this your favorite album?” I was one to say, “Well, I don’t think it really is. I’m a great fan of Sticky Fingers.” This is very different album ’cause it’s so sprawling. It doesn’t contain a lot of hit singles for instance. Over the years a lot of the songs have been played onstage and they’ve acquired another life. So it’s a very different kind of album than Sticky Fingers or Let It Bleed in that way. The production value is a different. It’s just a different vibe. But, I mean, there are really great things on it. And I spent the last six months living with it, so I know it pretty much inside out now.


Do you have more respect for it after those six months?

Nah, I always had a lot of respect for it. It was difficult, because people didn’t like it when it came out. I think they just found it quite difficult because of the length of it. People didn’t access it quite so easily at the time. It got kind of mixed reviews. People found it a bit impenetrable and a bit difficult. Everyone said, “It’s my favorite, it’s my favorite, I love it!” and I said, “Well, it’s not mine.” It was just sort of toss-off remark and it’s come back to haunt me, really.




Keith Richards:

How did this new Exile set come together?

Well, basically it’s the record and a few tracks we found when we were plundering the vaults. Listening back to everything we said, “Well, this would be an interesting addition.”




Are these songs you had forgotten about?

I must say yes, it’s been quite awhile. That’s what longevity does to you. “Start Me Up” we’d forgotten about for five years before we put it out.



And you and Mick added new parts to some of them?

There wasn’t much to be done and I really didn’t want to get in the way of what was there. It was missing a bit of body here and there, and I stroked something on acoustic here and there. But otherwise, I really wanted to leave them pretty much as they were. Mick wanted to sort of fix some vocal things, but otherwise, basically they are as we left them 39 years ago.



Do you think the basement cuts from France sound different than the songs you recorded in the States or in England?

Oh, definitely. That was pretty unique way of recording. We did a lot of work on the stuff when we took it to L.A., ’cause we did a lot of overdubs and stuff on it there, but there was something about the rhythm section sound down there — maybe it’s the concrete, or maybe it’s the dirt, but it has a certain sound to it that you couldn’t replicate if you tried.



Exile was initially greeted with mixed reviews.

Oh, at first, yeah. We kind of expected that just from the fact that it was a double album. First of all, the record company wanted to cut it in half. So we said, “Oh, this is not looking good.” But also we insisted, “No, this is what we did. This is Exile on Main Street, and we insist that it’s a double album.” So it kind of got a slow take-off, but ever since then, it’s been up there. Also, it’s the first album with no particular single on it, you know? There was no “Brown Sugar” or whatever. We made it as an album, rather than looking for a hit single.



Many now consider it your best album. Do you agree?

I would put it up there with ’em. It’s very difficult for me to pick my babies apart, you know? But, Beggar’s Banquet, Exile, Sticky Fingers, Let it Bleed — I mean, it was part of that period where we were really hitting it, you know?



As you and Mick started work on these old songs, did you start thinking about new songs?

Oh yes. You’re always thinking of new songs. Or rather, the new songs are thinking of you. I never sit down and say, “Oh, it’s songwriting time.” But every now and again, a certain note or a certain chord sort of rings a bell, and you sort of grab a guitar and go, “I must remember that.”








Don Was:

How did the process of sorting through the Exile outtakes begin?

They just sent me hundreds of hours of multitracks to go through, which was the best gig ever. It was all mixed up. It was labeled by number code and it wasn’t an accurate directory of what it was. You’d be listening to some blues jam and then all of a sudden there’s a version of “Wild Horses” with a string quartet, then another reel with all the takes of “Honky Tonk Woman” leading up to the final one. It was mind-blowing for a Stones fanatic such as myself.

I also got very involved with the guys who bootlegged the stuff. I wanted them to have some surprises too, not just better mixes of stuff that they were very familiar with. We found songs that had vocals, for example, where only instrumental tracks had ever surfaced.



Why did you have to bake the master tapes?

It’s not really like a solid piece of tape, like you think of Scotch tape. It’s more like sandpaper. You have all these oxide particles and they get moved over the magnetic recording heads and rearranged into patterns that when it passes over the playback head — the playback head recognizes those patterns and transduces it into sound waves. Tapes from the ’50s and ’60s are OK. But I guess they started saving money, and tapes from the ’70s, ’80s, ’90s — the particles tended to coagulate together and fall off the surface. So baking somehow makes them adhere to the surface without altering the pattern. It holds the particles in place at least for one time through so you can transfer it to something digital.



How much new overdubbing did the band do?

The essence of these things never got changed from 1969 to 1971. Beyond finding the best stuff to put out, the second responsibility was really to make sure nothing happened to alter the spirit of Exile. On “Following the River,” the vocal was there but he knew what he wanted to do with the words — he just never got around to it. So he sang it again. And in one case there is a great ballad that never had lyrics. He wrote it and finished it.




I heard a rumor somewhere that you guys brought in Mick Taylor to overdub some things. Is that true at all?

I’m not saying it’s not true. I’m simply not going to deny.



What else can you tell me about the unheard songs?

Well, as a bass player, I can tell you that Bill Wyman is a genius. He blew my mind, the stuff I heard him play here. He really doesn’t get enough credit. The drums were amazing, but everyone knows that Charlie’s the greatest.



How do you pick one alternate version of “Tumbling Dice” when they spent hours and hours working on that song?

It’s hard to do. That version of “Tumbling Dice” was chosen because it’s got the other lyric. The actual version that’s on Exile, it’s got to be one of the top five all-time great rock & roll singles. There’s so much wrong with it. Now a lot of the things that happened somewhat randomly, like the vocals being mixed down low, people have imitated. It’s become part of the vocabulary of rock & roll record-making. But it’s wrong, by all standards. But it’s absolutely perfect. It’s a perfect record.







Re: Post: Magazine Articles
Posted by: exilestones ()
Date: December 24, 2022 20:41



The Rolling Stones - Vol. 5, Aftermath (JAPANESE Edition UK 1966)


"THE ROLLING STONES - AFTERMATH" (JAPANESE EDITION UK 1966)

Aftermath, first released in April 1966, was the fourth UK and sixth US studio album by "The Rolling Stones".

The album proved to be a major artistic breakthrough for "The Rolling Stones", being the first full-length release by the band to consist exclusively of "Mick Jagger"/"Keith Richards" compositions.

Aftermath was also the first "The Rolling Stones" album to be recorded entirely in the United States, at the legendary RCA Studios in Los Angeles, California at 6363 Sunset Boulevard, and the first album the band released in Stereo.
The album is also notable for its musical experimentation, with "Brian Jones" playing a variety of instruments which feature prominently in each track, including the sitar on "Paint It, Black", and the Appalachian dulcimer on "Lady Jane" and "I Am Waiting", marimba (African xylophone) on "Under My Thumb", and "Out of Time", harmonica on "High and Dry" and "Goin' Home" as well as guitar and keyboards.

To this day Aftermath remains a big fan favorite from the "Brian Jones" era.



The Rolling Stones: "Paint It, Black"/"Flight 505"/"Goin' Home", London Records LS 70, EP Japan 1966

As with all the "The Rolling Stones" pre-1967 LPs, different editions were released in the UK and the USA.

This was a common feature of British Pop albums at that time because UK albums typically did not include tracks that had already been released as singles.




The Rolling Stones: "19th Nervous Breakdown" / "The Spider And The Fly", London TOP-1020, Japan 1966

The UK version of Aftermath was issued in April 1966 as a fourteen-track LP, and this is generally considered to be the definitive version. Issued between the non-LP single releases of "19th Nervous Breakdown" and "Paint It, Black", Aftermath was a major hit in the UK, spending eight weeks at #1 on the UK album chart.



The Rolling Stones: "Paint It, Black" / "Long Long While", London TOP-1053, Japan 1966

The British version of Aftermath was released earlier than its American counterpart and had several differences beyond its cover design: it runs more than ten minutes longer, despite not having "Paint It, Black" on it (singles were usually kept separate from LPs in England in those days), and it has four additional songs — "Mother's Little Helper", which was left off the US album for release as a single; "Out of Time" in its full-length five-minute-36-second version, two minutes longer than the version of the song issued in America; "Take It Or Leave It", which eventually turned up on Flowers in the US; and "What To Do", which didn't surface in America until the release of "More Hot Rocks" more than six years later.


Additionally, the song lineup is different, "Goin' Home" closing side one instead of side two.

And the mixes used are different from the tracks that the two versions of the album do have in common — the UK album and CD used a much cleaner, quieter master that had a more discreet stereo sound, with wide separation in the two channels and the bass not centered as it in the US version.

Thus, one gets a more vivid impression of the instruments. It's also louder yet curiously, because of the cleaner sound, slightly less visceral in its overall impact, though the details in the playing revealed in the mixes may fascinate even casual listeners.




The Rolling Stones: "Mother's Little Helper" / "Lady Jane", London TOP-1069, Japan 1966

It's still a great album, though the difference in song lineup makes it a different record; "Mother's Little Helper" is one of the more in-your-face drug songs of the period, as well as being a potent statement about middle-class hypocrisy and political inconsistency, and "Out Of Time", "Take It Or Leave It" (which had been a hit for "The Searchers"), and "What To Do", if anything, add to the misogyny already on display in "Stupid Girl" and "Think", and "Out Of Time" adds to the florid sound of the album's Psychedelic component (and there's no good reason except for a plain oversight by the powers that be for the complete version of "Out Of Time" never having been released in America).
"The Rolling Stones" released "19th Nervous Breakdown" several months earlier as a non album song. This classic, frenetic rocker was terrific with a dense and layered sound supporting "Mick Jagger"'s vocal. It reached number two on the American charts and could have easily been included on Aftermath. Also the double sided single "Lady Jane" / "Mother's Little Helper" was released in the United States.

Most of the tunes are strong and this has to go down as containing "Brian Jones"' best work.
He plays several different instruments on this LP besides guitar. Most interesting is his heavy metal sounding sitar on "Paint It, Black".



Brian Jones with sitar at Ready Steady Go, London 1966

Nobody up to this time had ever played a sitar as the lead instrument for a Hard Rock song, yet it turned out sounding so great that the song is still today considered one of "The Rolling Stones" all time best ever.

Aftermath was an instant commercial success in the United States, rising to number 2 on the Billboard chats and selling over one million copies. It would remain on the charts for 50 weeks.




The critical consensus on Aftermath seems to be that it marked the point where "The Rolling Stones" really started to come into their own from a creative standpoint.

All the songs were original and the band began to deviate from its Blues Rock roots both instrumentally and stylistically.




John Lennon with an Aftermath copy during Revolver sessions, 1966

Most people also accept that these changes were instigated by the activities of other artists, primarily "The Beatles" as well as "Bob Dylan" and possibly "The Beach Boys".

To a certain extent, "The Rolling Stones" outdid "The Beatles" (but not "The Beach Boys") in terms of the sheer diversity of non-standard instrumentation. The only thing "Rubber Soul" had on it was the first appearance of "George Harrison"'s sitar and some maracas.

This time period saw "The Rolling Stones" use the marimba, sitar and dulcimer, as well as various pianos and keyboards. The result? Well we all know that "Under My Thumb" and "Paint It, Black" are great, and it's no surprise that "The Rolling Stones" could put together some hit singles.




Brian Jones with dulcimer, 1966

And that's exactly what makes Aftermath so unique. It's a bunch of non-professionals that happen to have a good nose for Pop hooks, but are way too soaked in the Blues to adorn them with sitar and dulcimer, and have to resort to the good ol' Fuzzbox, the trusty old Blues harmonica and crappy guitar tuning instead.

The hooks on Aftermath are, indeed, exceedingly strong, but it is their combination with the regular stonesy grittiness that gives the album its outstanding flavour.

At least, that's how I view it. Too many people have complained that from 1966 to 1967 "The Rolling Stones" were nothing but a pallid imitation of "The Beatles"; I certainly prefer the 'original evil twin' description instead.

Granted, "Brian Jones" seemed to be aware of these limitations. His transformation on this record - even though he's never credited for any of the songs - is perhaps even more stunning, as it was he who'd been the original Blues purist in the band. Keith was the rocker, Mick the PR guy, and Brian the spiritual guru.

On Aftermath, though, it is "Brian Jones" who's responsible for dragging in both the sitar and the dulcimer (probably while the others weren't looking), in addition to marimbas and whatever else he's having out there - as if he just woke up one morning with the idea of 'blues just won't cut it anymore' stuck in his head and proceeded from there.

Unfortunately, "Brian Jones" seems to have been working in gusts and torrents: his presence ranges from essential to barely felt, and by the time Side 2 of the album rolls along, he's barely there, although, of course, this isn't quite the same 'barely there' as it'd be in a matter of just two years' time.




The Rolling Stones 1966, photo courtesy Jerry Schatzberg(?)

Still, it's a shame "Brian Jones" has never been given credit for "Paint It, Black" at least.

You only have to listen once to any of the live versions of the song available and compare it with the studio original to understand just how much it loses without the sitar.

Because it's a very simple song, isn't it? It's essentially just one line, over and over again. The sitar is what gives it meaning: it's a mantra, and what is a mantra but a trance-inducing repetition? But then at the very heart of it is lodged a stunning hook, when they change keys midway through each verse and oops! the mantra suddenly becomes a furious Pop-Rocker.
And then, oops, a mantra once again.

And so on and on, until, towards the coda, it is finally and firmly stabilized as a mantra.

Omit the sitar - never mind that the playing is amateurish and sloppy, "Brian Jones" could never hope to get to be an instantaneous "Ravi Shankar" - and you just have the Rocker.

A pretty awesome Rocker, but no subtlety involved. "Brian Jones", for one, knew this, which is why he probably insisted upon bringing the sitar to the Ed Sullivan Show.


++++




++++


Re: Post: Magazine Articles
Posted by: exilestones ()
Date: December 27, 2022 21:23

WINTERLAND 1972


Fans waiting outside the Downtown Center Box office on Mason Street on May 16, 1972 to buy tickets to the Rolling Stones concert.
Art Frisch / Art Frisch / The Chronicle



Fans waiting outside to get into Winterland for the Rolling Stones concert on June 6, 1972.
Dave Randolph / Dave Randolph / The Chronicle

Tickets were $5.00. Winterland had no reserved seating, so if
patrons wanted to get a great spot near the front of the stage, they had to
get there early. Fans began lining up along the auditorium’s wall 48 hours
before the doors were scheduled to open. The first folks in line were Richard
Green, 21, and Mark Jeppeson, 19, of Graton in Sonoma County. Each had a
shaggy sheepskin blanket covering them for warmth. “We’ve also got pillows in
my car,” Green said, “along with 3 gallons of water, a bag of nuts, and 10
pounds of oranges."


Stones Fans Thwarted by Ticketron Failure in San Francisco
Don't blame the Stones


The Rolling Stones performs at Winterland Arena on June 6, 1972 in San Francisco, California.
Larry Hulst


SAN FRANCISCO — It used to be when you wanted to go to a Rolling Stones concert you had to stand in line for hours to get tickets. Now, through the miracle of computerized ticket sales, you can wait in line for hours and not get tickets.

That’s what happened May 15th to thousands who crowded to 54 Ticketron outlets in Northern California to purchase seats at four Stones concerts at Winterland on June 6th and 8th.

“It was a madhouse,” said a middle-aged saleslady at Sears. “There were people sleeping outside the door waiting to get in. When the store opened at 9:30 they came through those doors like animals.”

Even after the tickets went on sale at 10 AM, the lines barely moved. Simultaneous ticket requests from Northern California outlets, plus outlets in the L.A. area and Chicago all ordering tickets at the same time, were too much for the one dinky central computer that serves all Ticketron outlets west of Chicago.

The computer jammed. It took each outlet 12 minutes to process one order. One computer in L.A. fizzled out completely.

There were 18,000 tickets available at Winterland. Had there been equal distribution of tickets at the outlets, as customers assumed (about 300 per outlet), with a maximum four tickets allowed to a person, only the first 75-100 people in lines of up to 700 would get theirs.

But some centers got less tickets out of the computer than others. It wasn’t luck, or foul play, as many disgruntled customers complained afterwards. It was just that non-computerized human factor.

Some Ticketron operators were simply more efficient than others. They ordered tickets at the maximum rate – nine requests per order – and kept ordering without waiting for specific requests. They knew whatever they got their hands on would be sold.

There were no reported incidents of violence at the ticket sales, except, perhaps in the emotions of those who were disappointed. At 3 o’clock when it was announced that tickets were sold out at the downtown San Francisco Ticketron Agency, one 19-year-old girl who’d waited eight hours in line said “people felt like just tearing the place down.”

Complaints about the system were forwarded to Barry Imhoff, head of FM Productions, which handled ticket operation for the tour. Victims of L.A.’s collapsed computer were somewhat appeased with first crack at a fourth L.A. concert added to the tour.

He received some angry letters from people who stood and slept in line only to have some bully cut in front of them.

With all its faults, Imhoff felt that Ticketron was the best system available. It spread out the numbers of empty-handed ticket-seekers over a large area. “If we had them line up at Winterland for tickets,” Imhoff said, “they’d level the place.

“You can’t satisfy everybody. We never get complaints about the system from the people who got tickets. It’s only the unlucky ones who complain.”






Mick Jagger of the Rolling Stones in concert in the Bay Area, June 1972.
Dave Randolph




Dave Rudolph




Dave Rudolph



The Rolling Stones American Tour 1972


The ’72 tour was known by other names—the Cocaine and Tequila Sunrise tour or the STP, Stones Touring Party. It was mythologized along the lines of Stanley Booth’s list of excesses, above. Personally I never saw anything like this. Stanley must have been exaggerating or he was a very innocent boy. It was the case nevertheless that by this time we couldn’t get a reservation in any hotel above a Holiday Inn. It was the beginning of the booking of whole hotel floors, with no one else allowed up, so that some of us—like me—could get privacy and security. It was the only way we could have a degree of certainty that when we decided to party, we could control the situation or at least get some warning if there was trouble.

- Keith Richards (Life: Keith Richards)



The Rolling Stones American Tour 1972, also known as the "Stones Touring Party", shortened to S.T.P., was a much-publicized and much-written-about concert tour of the United States and Canada in June and July 1972 by The Rolling Stones. Constituting the band's first performances in the United States following the Altamont Free Concert in December 1969, critic Dave Marsh would later write that the tour was "part of rock and roll legend" and one of the "benchmarks of an era."

The tour in part supported the group's Exile on Main St. album, which was released a few weeks earlier on 12 May. It was also part of a tour-America-every-three-years rotation that the group established in 1969 and maintained through 1981.

On the first show of the tour, 3 June in Vancouver, British Columbia, 31 policemen were treated for injuries when more than 2,000 fans attempted to crash the Pacific Coliseum.

In San Diego on 13 June, there were 60 arrests and 15 injured during disturbances. In Tucson, Arizona on 14 June, an attempt by 300 youths to storm the gates led to police using tear gas. While in Chicago for three appearances on 19 and 20 June, the group stayed at Hugh Hefner's original Playboy Mansion in the Gold Coast district. Eighty-one people were arrested at the two sellout Houston shows on 25 June, mostly for marijuana possession and other minor drug offences. There were 61 arrests in the large crowd at RFK Stadium in Washington, D.C. on the Fourth of July.

On 13 July police had to block 2,000 ticket-less fans from trying to gain access to the show in Detroit. On 17 July at the Montreal Forum a bomb blew up in the Stones' equipment van, and replacement gear had to be flown in; then it was discovered that 3,000 forged tickets had been sold, causing a fan riot and a late start to the concert. The next day, 18 July, the Stones' entourage got into a fight with photographer Andy Dickerman in Rhode Island, and Jagger and Richards landed in jail, imperilling that night's show at the Boston Garden. Boston Mayor Kevin White, fearful of a riot if the show were cancelled, intervened to bail them out; the show went on, albeit with another late start. Dickerman would later file a £22,230 lawsuit against the band.

On 16 June, after the Denver shows, in a hotel suite, Stephen Stills and Keith Richards drew knives in an argument.

The tour ended with four shows over three consecutive nights at New York City's Madison Square Garden, the first night of which saw 10 arrests and two policemen injured, and the last leading to confrontations between the crowd outside Madison Square Garden and the police. The last show on 26 July, Jagger's 29th birthday, had balloons and confetti falling from Madison Square Garden's ceiling and Jagger blowing the candles off a huge cake. Pies were also wheeled in, leading to a pie fight between the Rolling Stones and the audience.

Following the final performance, a party was held in Jagger's honor by Ahmet Ertegun at the St. Regis New York. Guests included Bob Dylan, Woody Allen, Andy Warhol, the Capote entourage, and Zsa Zsa Gabor, while the Count Basie Orchestra provided musical entertainment. At the event, Dylan characterized the tour as "encompassing" and "the beginning of cosmic consciousness."

Rock critic Robert Christgau reported that the mood of the shows was friendly, with Jagger "undercut[ting] his fabled demonism by playing the clown, the village idiot, the marionette."

MTD

Re: Post: Magazine Articles
Posted by: exilestones ()
Date: December 27, 2022 21:30




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Municipal Auditorium June 29, 1972
Jimmy Ellis

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