I mean some doctor told me I had six months to live and I went to their funeral.
Rock and Roll: Music for the neck downwards.
I have been a gigantic Rolling Stones fan since approximately the Spanish-American War.
His Glass is Never Half Empty
Happy 75th birthday, Keith! He’s the posterboy of everything the modern PC world abhors, a generational talent of enormous abilities with Dionysian appetites to match. Especially the unbridled enjoyment of spirits of every kind. Hell, he was once fronted a band called the X-pensive Winos.
One of the chief scalawags who led the The British Invasion.
He’s hedonism personified.
The Rolling Stoned.
The master blaster of extraordinary riffs.
The creative live wire who absolutely will never Fade Away.
Yes, friends, we are waxing poetic on Mr. Keith Richards, who in the last 30 seconds it took me to write this sentence has just lit another cigarette, and not an E. Cigarette, mind you. The irrepressible, Dartford, England-born guitar strummer lives on without apology despite 50 some years of touring in the rough and tumble world of rock ‘n’ roll, which has had a casualty rate roughly that of America’s Wild West. Yes, this intrepid, modern-day pirate is still roaming the world, touring, making albums, and generally enjoying the hell out of his family and every single gig he plays.
Stars Are Born
The band Keith co-founded, the The Rolling Stones, was unofficially born when Keith and Phillip Michael Jagger met on a subway train back in the Middle Ages. No, just joshing, it only seems like they’ve been rocking for that long.
They shared a love for Muddy Waters, (whose song; Rollin’ Stone, gave birth to the band’s name) American rhythm and blues, and, it turns out, American supermodels (Jerry Hall and Keith’s longtime wife Patty Hansen.)
Bonded By Music
After getting to know each other over their sacred LPs, Keith and Mick hatched their plan: remake the music they loved, only with a British accent. And longer hair, of course. After all, they thought, won’t Americans and the world love this very English reincarnation of this uniquely American music. I mean, isn’t that the secret cultural sauce that keeps the incredibly lucrative James Bond franchise humming along?
After recently watching the new documentary; Keith Richards: Under the Influence, that I realized all over again that most of us just aren’t living with all the gusto we could.
Keith does it more than most mortals. Every day.
Sure, he might’ve had a blood transfusion in Switzerland a few times to rejuvenate the body and soul, but hey who among us wouldn’t if we had to continually play the “life of the party” everywhere we went? On top of that, he has to play nice with a bandmate sporting one of the most ginormous egos on the planet?
Yea, I think he’s earned a few quarts of some Swiss Olympian’s blood.
And nobody keeps it together under the hot lamp of exotic imbibing like the Stones’ riff machine. Have you ever heard of the man, regardless of the circumstances behaving rudely? The man was busted for heroin in Toronto, Canada, but according to all involved he was as nice as pie during the entire ordeal.
But most importantly, who in the world would you rather throw back a few with?
Bill Gates, the world’s richest man? Tim Cook of Apple? Hugh Hefner? Alex Trebek? Stephen Hawking? Na, I mean they’re all smart as hell and ultra successful, but I need that pirate vibe and those blokes ain’t close in the karma department.
No, to me, currently the most interesting man in the world and the guy we’d most like to have drinks if he still drank, is Keith Richards, and that’s why this music immortal is the subject of this music lover’s blog post.
Jack Daniel’s Stock Takes a Dip
I’m typing this world-wide news knowing that Keith’s new vow of sobriety probably won’t last beyond Mr. Richard’s first new tour row with Mick.
So, what was Keith’s current favorite drink? Well, according to the Google gods, it appears his preferred concoction du jour was called “Nuclear Waste,” made with the unlikely pairing of organic vodka, orange, club soda and Fanta. Organic vodka, yet mixed with a sugar bullet. So totally Mr. Richards, isn’t it?
P.S. I’m not inferring that Keith and I have ever have been out drinking together. If I had, you would be reading my obituary, not this blog.
Photograph of the Immortal Mr. Richards goes to the very talented Stephanie Pfriender Stylander, whose new book: Stephanie Pfriender Stylander: The Untamed Eye, is an international sensation.
You’ve seen it all, you’ve seen it all
The treasures few have ever seen
Most of ’em dreams
Most of ’em dreams
Yes, I am a pirate
Two hundred years too late
-Jimmy Buffett (A Pirate Looks at 40)