Keef...tailights fade and there ain't a dry eye in the house....
Since the beginning of the Rolling Stones European Tour 2007 I have been reading with grave concern about Keith Richards’ ‘condition’. The debate has raged back and forth: he is a disaster…! he has arisen…! he can’t play anymore…! he’s on fire…! ad infinitum…
I have waited to share my thoughts until well after the Frankfurt concert. I needed time to absorb the experience and reflect on it.
Like most everyone on this board, I love Keith Richards. His essence is the core of Rock and Roll music…the purity of his love for the music and his instinctual approach to rhythm are the cornerstones on which the Stones – the best band this musical form ever produced - are built. He has never been a brilliant musician in the classic sense…the Stones are not known for their technical prowess…but he and his band mates are the best band…the best unit…because they are the purest and most daring practitioners of the ancient form of mixing the Blues with R&B and Soul and whatever else is in the atmosphere at the moment, and distilling it into their own brand of propulsive voodoo. Keith Richards is the quintessence of Rock and Roll.
I’ve read the rest of the Frankfurt reports…over and over…trying to find a context…to come to grips with what I saw. Here is what I can report:
· The IORR people I met were gracious and kind. A real honor for me. Gangster of Love, windmelody, open-G, Anastasia, Heartbreaker…and the cool, calm and collected Mr. BV.
Here is a photo of Anastasia and Heartbreaker…wild ladies from the hinterlands of San Fransisco:

And the redoubtable Mr. BV enjoying a Hessian treat:

· The stadium was full…the 25,000 seats allotted were filled. The setting was great visually. The fact that the big stadium was cut in half by the stage gave the concert the more intimate feel of an arena show. I don’t understand the agenda of some people like Kartoffelsalat who try to create the impression that the place was empty…this is sheer negativity and falseness. The photo he showed was taken an hour and a half BEFORE the start of the concert [you can see it on the photo data]. Why do this and try to pass it off as the crowd at the opening song? Asswipe. Lies, lies, lies, you dirty Jezebel…why, why, why, why don’t you go to hell?
Yes…the pre-concert promotion was abominable. Yes, they were GIVING away tickets before the concert [for the remote nosebleed sections of the stadium]. I actually won a set of tickets a few hours before the concert start. Since I had ordered my tickets months before I gave them to friends…but you get the picture:
Bottom line. If you showed up at the gates you got in…for free.
No questions asked.
To a Rolling Stones concert.
If you had told me this would EVER happen I would have laughed in your face. Until Wednesday the 13th of June 2007. It happened.
But the crowd was alive and kicking and appreciative. I was in the front row on Keith’s side and no one on the vast floor area of the Stadium sat from beginning to end…everyone danced and clapped and sang and smiled for 2 hours. I looked back in to the Tribune areas and people were rocking.
The Stones magic still works.
Here’s a view of the stage from my perspective:

· Mick Jagger is a Champion. He is an athlete. He is a force of nature. His performance was reminiscent of a fighter who gets in the ring and goes for the knockout punch from the opening bell to the end of the 12th round. He REFUSED defeat and WILLED his band to victory – like the captain of a team with crippled and injured players - by sheer FORCE OF WILL he pushed a performance out of his comrades that they did not really have in them. I have loved and hated Jagger for his many talents and transgressions…but I have never respected him as much as I do now. His performance was preternatural. He is a GOD.
Here’s an impressionistic image of the ageless satyr…

· Charlie Watts is the bedrock. The cornerstone. The engine. The pistons and valves and fuses. Nearly flawless. Nothing more needs to be said.
Here’s Mr. Watts from my perspective:

· The sound was atrocious. Horrific. A slab of rough-cut meat on a slab. A brontosaurus roar, indistinct and putrid smelling. An embarrassment. I have said this before and I will say it again. Whomever is in charge of sound for the Stones for this tour has FCUKED my ears up…damn you. I spend a fortune to see this band...and you can't give me decent sound? The roof causes reverb? Then OPEN IT! The stadium is too big? FIX THE SOUND! I've seen 7 concerts on this tour and NOT ONE had adequate sound! No more excuses. I'd like to fire your asses immediately...all of you bastards...
· The Stones are supposed to be a guitar band. But the guitar section has ceased to ignite. Sure, the chords are still there…but it has been years since I have heard a truly thrilling guitar solo from this band. Ronnie was professional [thank God] and occasionally compelling. His slide work was good. But nothing that takes you to another place. Mick, Charlie, the Horns…Darryl [who doesn’t know how to rock, but at least lends the music a fat bottom]…the sheer force of the riffs…this keeps the music coming at you with hurricane force...but the guitar section is now but a memory of what it used to be. It is ALONG FOR THE RIDE…it no longer dictates the speed and crunch and the thunder…it floats along with the tide. And Blondie Chaplin is no longer hidden…he’s out on stage playing guitar.
Blondie Chaplin. Playing guitar for the Stones.
But back to the main point. Keef. He is a shadow…a strange, shambling apparition on stage…a ghost…a spirit…he no longer plays much…he pantomimes…he poses…he smiles weakly…and looks down at us from a very distant place. It broke my heart to see him like this. But one can live in denial, or one can confront uncomfortable truths.
The Keith Richards that I saw on a warm June night in 2007 was an old, exhausted specter of the thrilling rogue of yesteryear. He could hardly play. He lacked focus. He would come and go, as if lost in a fog. At times he would snap to attention and throw out a vicious riff…mostly he just strummed the neck of his axe and tried to pose heroically when a riff came out…often he just seemed to roam aimlessly, taking tentative steps...like a man lost in himself.
His set was a train-wreck. It stopped the momentum of the concert in its’ tracks. People looked at each other and embarrassedly shrugged. The fact that Jagger and the rest of the band continue to indulge him by giving him this spot in the limelight smacks of a patronizing maliciousness. Or utter blindness. His discombobulation is almost humiliating.
It is time to eliminate this part of the concert. When Keith is out alone on stage his maladies and shocking dissipation are too exposed. If Keith insists on going like this then at least do so in the context of hiding within the structure of the vast array of musicians on stage. The sheer spectacle of this shambling phantasm front and center is almost sadistic and gratuitous. I’m sorry if I appear overwhelmed by Keith’s decay. I felt at times like punching the people around me who were humoring him during his set. But I feel protective of this man…he has brought me great joy and happiness…and I cannot stand by and pretend all is well when it is most assuredly not.
I write this with great sadness and regret. But Keef now is reminiscent of Muhammad Ali at the tragic tail end of his career...stepping in the ring with fighters he once would have dispatched in 45 seconds...and absorbing punishment for 12 rounds...his once supernatural skills diminished beyond recognition...and his beauty just a vanished memory.
There were times during his set where I simply felt like walking up on the stage and putting my arms around him and hugging him and saying..."thank you...thank you for everything...you have given us so much...too much...and now it is time to go home...please...for you and your family...we love you...and always will...". I wanted to hide and protect him from the scorn and the stares. And the enablers who indulge him and pretend it is all part of show business...like looking at a debauched freak and getting enjoyment out of his wasted state.
But if it makes him happy to go on, if he insists...if he rallies and bounces back...and even if he does not...regardless, I will be in his corner...cheering him on and hoping that he is happy and that the joy he gave us can somehow now be repaid in his sunset time. I don't like seeing him like this, but if this is the price I have to pay to give back to this man who has given me so much...then it is something I will do. Rock and Roll is a cruel game. I hug you, Keith.

Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 2007-06-15 16:35 by Turd On The Run.