Originally published in Uncut Take 231 (January 2024)
“KEITH and I used to bump into each other at record company Christmas parties in the ’60s,” says Ron Wood. “You’d hang out with The Kinks or The Beatles at one, then hop to another. We’d say hello and have a drink at Andrew Oldham’s Immediate parties. But our first real encounter was when I was making I’ve Got My Own Album To Do. My first wife, Krissy, bumped into Keith in a club. ‘What’s Ronnie doing?’ ‘Oh, he’s making an album – do you want to come back to the house and see him?’ He came for the night and stayed for four months!
“When we first played together, it was magic. We’d talk to each other through our guitars, through the music – weaving through riffs and musical signals that just seemed to come out of the air. Songs like ‘Beast Of Burden’. We can go months without seeing each other and then connect again. The first strokes of the guitar, the interplay is still there. It’s magic.
“We’ve had hundreds of funny moments along the way – bashings and bangings and insults and injuries. I remember on stage in Frankfurt once, Keith slipped over on a frankfurter – a frankfurter in Frankfurt, you couldn’t make it up. Back in the mad old days, there was one guy who would not leave our floor in the hotel. So Keith used him like a battering ram. He took him to the elevator and started banging his head against the buttons. ‘I said Up…’ – bang! – ‘.. not Down!’ Bang!
“What’s the real Keith like? Without the drugs and alcohol, he is very caring and quiet; a beautiful, soft guy. We’ve gone through a lot together. We’ve had losses and celebrations, highs and lows – lots of different climate changes! We can take our camaraderie all over the world and it doesn’t matter where we are, we bounce off each other.
“Things are different now. We used to hang out in each other’s rooms a lot more and work, or he’d come over my house or I’d go to his house. But as families grow, different plans take shape. He’s still pumping it out, though. He’s playing better than ever. Mick and Keith are both 80 now and I’m catching them up. It’s just a number, though – we’re more like 18 than 80. Keith – you’re a living miracle. Just keep it going!”
“A unique sense of style”
DICK TAYLOR, Pretty Thing
All the guitar players used to gather in the boys’ cloakroom at Sidcup Art School. Keith would usually sit right at the end by the window, with his little archtop guitar. He was fixated on Scotty Moore and one of his things he always used to play was “I’m Left, You’re Right, She’s Gone” and sometimes “That’s All Right Mama”.
Keith and I clicked rather well, Iliked him a lot. He had a very unique sense of style: skinny jeans, purple shirt, Wrangler jean jacket. I think he had a whole wardrobe of purple shirts. He knew I was in this band with Mick, but was a little reticent to ask if he could come along. Keith’s mum said that he was actually too shy to ask. I don’t think it was that, but he certainly wasn’t some big, expansive character. Then Keith and Mick met up and, when the conversation about rehearsals came up, Mick said, “Why doesn’t Keith come along?” That’s kind of how it happened. He was a natural guitar player. He didn’t have super technique, but it just seemed like Keith had a real flair for it.
“Jack the lad, man”
ANDREW OLDHAM, Stones manager
There should be a plaque outside that building on Mapesbury Road [where Oldham shared a flat with Jagger and Richards]. That’s where the songwriting partnership began. The reality behind that is me leaving to take my laundry back to my mother’s and going, “Right, I’m off.” I’d go down the stairs, heavily, slam the front door, then come back and listen outside their door to see what they were doing. To hear whether they were, in fact, writing. God bless them, they like to say that “As Tears Go By” was the first song they came up with, but I can tell you at least five or six others that came first. We were all learning on the job. What Keith called his “university” was doing six weeks on tour with the Everly Brothers, when the Stones were bottom of the bill. The Everlys were backed by The Crickets, which was just amazing. He took a lot from that experience. What can I say about Keith? He was a very smart fella, photogenically. I’ve got a photo of him and me at Orly Airport – around ’64 or ’65 – on my wall at home in Bogotá. It’s a great picture. He’s Jack the lad, man. And still is.
“A great deal of farting”
GERED MANKOWITZ, photographer
Keith was a rather gentle, amusing, fun person who felt very much like a really good mate. At the end of the Stones’ 65 tour of America, while everyone else went to Las Vegas, Keith suggested that he and I and Ronnie Schneider – who was the money guy – all go off horse-riding together in the desert. So he bought us cowboy outfits: stetsons and chaps and guns. We were armed to the teeth and Keith looked like Billy the Kid. We went off to Phoenix, Arizona and had a great time, living the cowboy fantasy for 48 hours. It was all about riding, shooting holes in our hats, sleeping under the stars and eating around the campfire. And farting. There was a great deal of farting and general silliness. It was December and we slept outdoors. Our saddle blankets were frozen to the ground in the morning. It was a real American West adventure. When we got back to the ranch, there was a huge storm following us. Our guide said he needed to get the cattle closer to the main ranch, so Keith and Ronnie and I ended up herding cattle. I’ve no idea if that was a genuine thing or a put-up job for us Limey greenhorns.
“Covered in blood”
STASH KLOSSOWSKI, aristocrat, bon viveur
My friendship with Keith blossomed in ’67 and we spent more and more time together when Anita [Pallenberg] was filming Barbarella. In fact, I was with Keith when Marlon was born. We went to the hospital together and stood side by side when they showed us the baby. It was a very moving moment. We had an extraordinary time together. Keith is extremely intelligent. You can talk to him about many, many subjects – from culture to music to politics. He reads a lot of history and is a marvellous companion. While he was at Cheyne Walk, we once famously stayed up seven days in a row, without any sleep. I have a Polaroid that Keith took of me during that time.
Of course, it wasn’t without the help of various substances, but that was all part of it. In 1969, I had an argument over dinner with my then girlfriend – who would eventually marry Paul Getty Jr – where she smashed up the table and dashed out of the restaurant. Driving back to Keith’s, with me next to her, she was in such hysterics that she had a tremendous nosebleed and our clothes were covered in blood. I ring the doorbell, Keith opens the door, sees me covered in blood and his first reaction was, “God, did you kill her? Where’s the body?”
“Bob-a-Job fundraising”
PATTIE BOYD, friend
It’s astonishing to think I’ve known the Stones for 60 years. I’ve always found Keith to be friendly and laidback. When he was living in Southern England I remember he got involved with some fundraisers. There was a knock at his door and a youngster was standing there. The young lad explained that he was a part of a local group who were trying to raise funds to repair the village church spire, which was in desperate need of remedial renovation work. The lad offered to undertake any small job around the house or garden that Keith may have had that needed doing. He may have been a Scout and this could’ve been a ‘Bob-a-Job’ fundraising campaign. Keith asked how much they needed for the work. The lad answered and Keith told him to stay at the door for a few moments. Minutes later, Keith returned with a cheque for the full amount that the group were looking to raise. “There you go,” he said, “Job done!” Good old Keith!
“He has supernatural powers”
EDDIE KRAMER, engineer
I first met Keith at Olympic in ’66, when I was assistant engineer on Between The Buttons. He was pretty gruff, as I remember. He’d give the impression that he was just stumbling around, but the moment he played a downbeat there was this dramatic, instantaneous change. His ability to bring something nuanced, crazy, cool and unexpected from that rhythm guitar part always amazed me. But it was the way he locked brains with Charlie Watts that I thought was incredible. You could see them nodding to each other in the studio, and if the groove was right it would just be this wonderful thing, the epitome of rock’n’roll. When recorded the Stones in ’77 for Love You Live, Keith had just gotten busted and he was not in good shape. But he played his ass off. A couple of days later, he wanted to do some overdubbing.
I walk into the studio and there’s Keith in this chair, slumped over with his head down. He asks me to play the track and the nanosecond that it starts, there’s this transformation. It’s like somebody had clicked a switch – bam! He was right there. Then afterwards he went back to slumping in his chair again. As a musician, Keith has supernatural powers.
“King of the intro”
GLYN JOHNS, engineer
I always think of Keith as king of the intro. He had an extraordinary ability to come up with an intro riff of some sort. It makes the track instantly recognisable as something by The Rolling Stones, which is very clever, I think. Most artists don’t give a fuck about intros, they just want to get into the song. But Keith was brilliant at that. The first time I saw the Stones play, which was before they’d ever got a deal or anything, he didn’t stick out that much. But when I started working with them in the studio, it became apparent that he was a special talent. Absolutely. He was – and is – an extraordinary rhythm guitar player, no question. Keith would have a riff or a chord progression and he’d sit and play it with whoever else was around in the studio. Sometimes that would go on for two or three days! But then listen to something like “Street Fighting Man” – it’s just unbelievable, with that driving acoustic guitar.
“The nitty-gritty, so powerful”
TAJ MAHAL, blues brother
When I started in LA, the Stones were 6,000 miles away, but playing music that was closer to the blues than anybody at home. One night we’re at the Whisky A Go Go and I’m playing harmonica with my eyes shut. I suddenly look out onto the dancefloor and it’s Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, Brian Jones and a few others, all dancing. Later, I said to Mick and Keith: “I don’t know what you’ve got in the water over there, but if you’re ever interested in having us come over, we’d love to accommodate you in any way we can.” Maybe three months later, eight first-class tickets to London came in the mail, inviting us to become part of The Rolling Stones Rock And Roll Circus. We had a wonderful time hanging out with Keith and the others. I’d watched Keith grow into a serious player. In terms of blues, Keith’s the nitty-gritty. He’s so powerful. Whenever I haven’t seen him in a long time we’ll get together, pull up some memories and play music. Most of all, I love that he’s a rebel. And a pirate.
“Patience please…”
ETHAN RUSSELL, photographer
Keith felt intimidating in my early days of being around the Stones. But it was never anything that he did. I did two tours with them and I don’t think we said three words to each other throughout the whole ’69 tour. The’72 tour was different, though it was a pretty druggy time. Some of it was pretty extreme. I’ve never seen Cocksucker Blues, but I was there for a good part of it. But the more Keith got into the tour, the more there was for me to sink my teeth into.
I remember shooting ‘Patience Please’ at the airport. I saw that sign [“A Drug Free America Comes First!”] and called Keith over. The customs man threatened to take away my camera, but I got the shot that mattered. Years later, I sent him my Let It Bleed book of the ’69 tour and he sent back a lovely handwritten intro. The fact that he wrote that was so beyond anything that I could imagine. I don’t think, back then, you could have predicted the fullness of the person that he is now. You can live with the cliché of the pirate, but it seems to me that he’s self-defined. That’s admirable.
“Drinking Jack Daniel’s out of a bottle”
MARSHALL CHESS, label boss
When we were starting Rolling Stones Records in 1970, I flew to London and went to Cheyne Walk, where Mick and Keith both lived, a block apart on the river. I got to Keith’s and he’s sitting behind this yellow-painted grand piano, next to Gram Parsons. I guess they were writing songs together. I was friends with all the Stones, but Keith and I really bonded. We both went through the sex, drugs and rock’n’roll thing. He was the first guy I saw drinking Jack Daniel’s out of a bottle. Kicking drugs together is almost like sex – you get to know somebody at a deep level if you’re puking next to each other. We’d sit for hours in the sitting room at Cheyne Walk, under that mirrored ball, smoking hash. He was attached to his fucking guitar. Keith ate, drank, went to the toilet and played his guitar. That was it. I remember him playing “Tumbling Dice”, when it was called “Good Time Women”, over and over. Writing “Happy”, the whole creation of it, and recording the single. In essence, without knowing it, he was the bandleader in the studio. Tell him I still love him.
“Tense, a little confrontational”
PETER RUDGE, tour manager
Keith is complex, he’s rich, he’s wonderful, he’s a pure musician. But my relationship with him was tense from the beginning. I represented authority. The first tour after Altamont, Keith was on drugs. One of the briefs I had from Rupert Lowenstein, from the Stones’ lawyers and just about everybody, was to keep Keith protected. That was easier said than done. On tour, Keith marched to his own drum. Every room he draped, he decorated, he carried his own lamps, he carried his own Moroccan sheets and things. So every room, wherever he went, looked exactly the same.
Also, he was surrounded by courtiers, shall we say. A lot of them were difficult to deal with. But anyone who loves rock’n’roll – and that includes me – loves Keith Richards. Most of those stories about him are true. I remember he was once forced to go to a meeting of all his lawyers, bankers and accountants in Geneva. Everyone was sat in this incredible boardroom in a bank, around this beautiful, antique wooden table, which was clearly worth a lot of money.
Keith sat through the whole meeting, didn’t say a word and just carved his initials on the table with a Bowie knife. I couldn’t believe it. All the bankers were looking at him, not knowing what to think. He plays those situations so fucking well, he’s brilliant. ‘You want me in the meeting? OK, but I’ll do it on my terms.’ And he let Mick do all the talking.
“a very stoned, mad time”
MICK TAYLOR, fellow Stone
During the making of Exile…, the whole idea of living in the South of France was a challenge: Keith wanted fish and chips and HP sauce. Nellcôte was difficult. Recording in somebody’s house means you’re mixing business with domesticity, with raising a family – in Keith’s case a young child. Mick and Bianca, me and my first wife Rose, we all had children in the same year. It was hard to balance creativity and family life. We did live like a family – it was forced on us by the situation of recording in Keith’s house. It was a tremendous strain on him, because his friends, or friends of friends, would come over to the South of France for a holiday. The house was full of people, it was mad. Mick Jagger described it as being a very stoned, mad time and it was. But out of that chaos came some gems like “Shine A Light”. I think we were too close to it to appreciate it. We had to deal with all that and go with the flow. Keith was ever-present, because he lived there. He could go down to the studio any time he wanted – that was how “Happy” was created. It was an interesting interplay; it was very creative.
“hearty draughts of vokda”
CHRIS WELCH, Melody Maker
It was always a privilege to talk to Keith – warm-hearted, funny and often shockingly honest. I first met him in 1966, along with Mick Jagger, when Between The Buttons was on the agenda. Together they made a wondrous real-life double act. But he was teamed up with another more provocative sparring partner when I met him at the Ritz Hotel, Piccadilly on a freezing cold January afternoon in 1979. Keith was ensconced in his suite alongside Anita Pallenberg and their nine-year-old son, Marlon. Keith had not long since been freed bya Canadian court on drug charges and was keeping life at bay with hearty draughts of vodka. The hotel room was a maelstrom of reggae music, girlish screams, endlessly ringing telephones and constant clamours for room service. As I sat down with my tape recorder, Anita glared and systematically set about destroying the interview. Even so, the dialogue between team Richards and Pallenberg was priceless. Keith said: “Look, darling, who’s doing this interview?” Anita said: “I am!” Suddenly Keith disappeared. After politely listening to Anita’s life story for an hour, I found Keith asleep on his bed with Marlon keeping watch. “Goodnight, Keith,” I whispered.
“i was in seventh heaven”
KENNEY JONES, Face
One of my fondest memories of Keith is when he got up on stage with the Faces at Kilburn Theatre in 1974. He came to see us because we were like one big family. When the Small Faces were on Immediate and Andrew Oldham was managing the Stones, we’d see them at the Immediate offices on New Oxford Street. So I’d known him for a while by 74. He’s got this sort of image of someone who likes a punch-up and all that, but I’ve always found Keith to be such a genuinely nice guy. Very laid back, very funny. Anyway, he got up, started playing with us and I was in seventh heaven, because Keith has always been one of the greatest guitarists there is. He just locked in. At Charlie Watts’ memorial at Ronnie Scott’s a couple of years ago, the Stones played for a few intimate friends. Keith set up his little amp up and immediately got that wonderful sound. Afterwards he came up and said: “Kenney, it’s only you and Charlie. You know that, don’t you?” It was such a wonderful thing for him to say.
“just step over him”
RICHARD LLOYD, Television
Keith and I became really good pals after I met Anita one night at CBBs, around the time of Television’s first album. The first night I met him, he gave me a cassette tape of songs the Stones were working on – stuff from Some Girls and unreleased reggae stuff of Keith’s. He’s a funny man, great sense of humour and very generous. One day up at his house, I walked out of the kitchen and saw Keith laid on the floor, between a potted plant and a couch. One of the hangers-on said, “Oh, just step over him. This is what happens. He’s up for days then, like a light switch, he just goes out. Then he wakes up and it’s another five days of fun.”
Another time, we were in his kitchen, playing guitars. With Keith being into reggae, I told him about a song I’d written called “Rock Star Far I”. It had a great bassline, so I tried to teach it to Keith. It was simple, but he just wasn’t getting it. He got it in the end though, at which point Anita looked at me with the widest eyes I’d ever seen: “Oh my God! You told Keith to play something and he did it. I’ve never seen Keith obey anybody!” The guy is a king. I love him to death.
“the guy is transceNdental”
SUGAR BLUE, harmonica hero
A guy who was working on a James Bond film had seen me playing in the Paris Metro. He had an apartment right next to Mick, so he tipped him off and somehow the Stones all got together and came down to a gig I was playing in a little bistro nearby. I really liked Keith straight away, him and Woody especially. There was something about those two that just grabbed me. Keith and the guys more or less left me to it for “Miss You”: “You know what to do!” He was very focused on the music – musically, the guy is transcendental. He’s really got some magic going for him – but he loved to make little jokes or asides. He’d say something and everybody would crack up. He just had a wonderful sense of humour. There’s so much tied into the public image of Keith Richards, but it’s like superheroes – they have to have an alternate identity. Some people think he’s a dark spirit, but that’s not true at all.
“we just cracked up”
WADDY WACHTEL, X-Pensive Wino
I was playing London with Linda Ronstadt [November 1976] and when I came off stage Keith was standing there next to Peter Asher. We clicked right away and hung out back at the hotel. So Linda’s whole band is in my room and they’re all asking Keith questions. He’s being so genteel. Finally, I said, “OK, I’ve got one. What was it like hearing ‘Street Fighting Man’ back in the studio for the first time, after all the work you’d put into it?” Keith just looked at me and went, “I don’t fucking know.” Cut to 1997 and we’re working on Bridges To Babylon. One night I show up and Keith’s holding court in the studio. So l plop down next to him on the couch and all of a sudden he starts telling this group of people what it was like to finally hear “Street Fighting Man” after all the work they’d put into it. I started shaking my head and muttering to myself. Eventually he says, “What’s the matter with you?” I said: “I asked you this question 20 fucking years ago and you shied me! Now you’re sitting here telling this group of assholes how great it was to hear “Street Fighting Man”!” Then we just looked at each other and cracked up. Keith’s fucking funny as hell.
“he tucked me into bed”
CHRIS KIMSEY, mixer/producer
When I was in New York’s Electric Ladyland Studios, mixing “Beast Of Burden”, Keith came down to listen to mixes, because he had an apartment just two blocks away. After a while, he left me to it and said, “When you’re finished, come over to the apartment.” So I go down there. This is two or three in the morning. Keith’s playing reggae music and enjoying himself. After about half an hour I’m nodding off, because I’ve been at it for 12 hours. So he led me to a spare bedroom to have a lie down. Ten minutes later, he came back and tucked me in! I’ll never forget that. It was really quite sweet. Another time, we were in Compass Point in Nassau. Ronnie and I went down to the Playboy Club to play roulette on our day off. Keith said, “I’m doing a barbecue. Make sure you’re back by eight o’clock.” We’re coming back in a cab and Keith’s in the middle of the road with a barbecue fork and chopping blade, swinging his arms and screaming at us: “You’re fucking late, it’s all burned now! Where the fuck have you been?” We were half an hour late. I didn’t realise he was so precious about his cooking!
“white rum and reggae”
SLY DUNBAR, rhythm king
Keith hit it off with myself and Robbie Shakespeare straight away. He was in Jamaica the night we went into the studio to play on Black Uhuru’s “Shine Eye Gal” [1979]. He played on Sly, Wicked & Slick and also “Bush Doctor” for Peter Tosh. He was so into what we were doing. I think everything about reggae appealed to him: the groove, the basslines, just the attitude. On “Shine Eye Gal” he knew instinctively how to play in all the right places. He has this feel that no-one else has. We actually carved out the Black Uhuru sound from what Keith did on that track. He gave it a reggae-rock guitar tone, which we copied from then on.
Whenever the Stones were on tour, if we were in the same city, myself and Robbie would give them a call and go along to their hotel. Keith would be drinking his Jamaican white rum, playing reggae records and singing along. You could see the emotion in his face, especially when he was playing Gregory Isaacs. He’d be talking about different singers and how he goes to a place in New York to pick up all his reggae sounds. The man is a champion.
“his timing is so good”
Special tribute: JIMMY PAGE
OUR paths first crossed when the first American Folk Blues tour came through Manchester [October 21, 1962]. To the true and faithful, it was a clarion call for all blues collectors and enthusiasts. There was an Epsom contingent that travelled uf there, and that’s where | first met Keith an Mick. Then I’d see the Stones play various venues around London. Later I’d bump into them at Immediate Records, when| did a few bits and pieces. The first time l actually played with Keith was on the Chri: Farlowe sessions that Mick was producing “Yesterday’s Papers” [1967] was a really good one, I’m playing acoustic on that. Keith and I were sitting next to each other and go on really well, because there was a great mutual respect.
Then we jump to 1974, when Ronnie [Wood] had the Wick [in Richmond] and the studio underneath. He said, “Do you want to come round? I think Keith wants to do something. That was the time when I really had a chance to play with him, because that became “Scarlet”, with Keith playing rhythm and me doing a counterpoint riff. The following day, ladded a couple of solo overdubs at Island. The thing I remember most is that Keith was solid and driving and didn’t make mistakes. He kept going all the way through. And realised just what a powerful force he is behind those Rolling Stones records. Of course, everybody made a vital contribution, but Keith was really driving it.
You can hear from “Scarlet” that I’m really on the crest of a wave with Zeppelin, so it would’ve been nice to have done more with Keith around that time, before we moved on to other pastures. But the next time I got a chance to play with him was when I was invitec to the studio in New York during Dirty Work [1986]. We had a coupl of days to have a bit of a jam, then I did the soloing over “One Hit (Te The Body)”. Keith sent me a magnum of champagne afterwards, which was very sporting of him.
What’s special about Keith? His timing is so good and he has the imagination to be able to construct these wonderful riffs. Not only that, but he could also turn his attention towards the acoustic 12-string, with “Angie” and things like that. So he’s extremely versatile. And super creative. If you’ve got somebody who can kee coming up with really good riffs decade after decade, that’s pretty serious. And to be respected.
He’s given us decades of wonderful, creative music with an attitude and character which could only be Keith Richards. Let’s hope he lives for another 80 years. Who knows, I might be able to jam with him again in another 50!
“sweeter than people think”
MICHAEL SHRIEVE, Santana man
I was living in New York at the time, so I was at the studio quite often, just hanging out, during Emotional Rescue. Then they asked me to play percussion. Keith is such an individual. There’s nobody like him. He plugs in his guitar and immediately it’s Keith Richards.
One of the things I came away with – aside from the amazing way that he works up guitar parts with Ronnie, which is just beautiful to watch – is how hard he works. Before I met him, I had this projection of Keith Richards as the tough guy. I have seen him get pissed off. I remember once there were some people staying at his house in Jamaica and he didn’t want them there. So he got on the phone to them and the way he was talking was really tough. So I know he has that side, but one of the main things I realised is that he’s actually so much of a sweeter man than people would think. He’s very kind, really very gentle. I think a lot of people who aren’t around him don’t understand that.
“kids in a toy shop”
MIKE CAMPBELL, Heartbreaker
Around the time of Emotional Rescue, the Heartbreakers were in New York and Tom [Petty] and I got to rehearse with the Stones at SIR Studios. I’d admired Keith from afar my whole life. It was interesting, because when the other guys took a break, Keith just kept on practising. I think he was trying to loosen up the rust. It was enlightening to see them in a raw setting like that. While we were rehearsing, Mick came over to me and Tom: “Y’know, they don’t like it when I play the guitar. But I only do it to get the tempos right, because they always play everything too fast and I can’t get the words in.” Sure enough, he picks up the guitar and they start a song. Keith immediately walks up, puts his hand up in front of Mick’s face and goes: “Oh no, you can’t lead your platoon that way! Lead vocals, lead vocals!” So Mick puts the guitar down, they start the song way too fast and he just looks at us with his hands up, as if to say, ‘See what I mean?’ But they were having fun, they were like kids in a toy shop.
“polishing his bullets”
STEVE LILLYWHITE, producer
We were in New York, mixing Dirty Work, and the news was all about Hurricane Gloria approaching. There were two trains of thought about how bad it was going to be. Mick’s thing was, “Oh, when it hits Manhattan, it’s just going to disappear because of all the buildings.” But Keith was like, “No, no, no. There’s going to be anarchy and who knows what else!” So literally the night of Hurricane Gloria, Keith arrived at the studio with his gun. And he sat in the control room while we were working, polishing his bullets. He thought, ‘Who knows what’s going to happen in terms of absolute mayhem?’ Just the idea of having guns is very alien to me, but it was very Keith. I thought that was very funny. Back in those days, he wouldn’t really buy clothes. But if you were wearing something that was very nice he would basically offer to swap his jacket for yours. Charley Drayton, the drummer we were working with, had this fantastic coat. Keith said, “Do you fancy swapping?” The world of bartering was very big for Keith. Y’know, who wouldn’t want Keith Richards’ jacket?
“bangers and mash”
IVAN NEVILLE, fellow Wino
When Keith put together the X-Pensive Winos for Talk Is Cheap [1988], we’d work through the night, so it would be morning when we’d leave the studio. He’d take us over to his apartment on 4th and Broadway and make us breakfast. First time I ever had bangers and mash, Keith made it. I didn’t even know what that was. Sausage, potato and eggs. Then when I was working on my solo record, [Thanks, 1995], and Keith and Ronnie came over to put a song down. We had an understood code: you play on my stuff, I play on yours. Later that night, Keith was going to another studio to start work on Voodoo Lounge. I was due to meet him over there, but I didn’t go directly. Instead, I was misbehaving. So the phone rings and it’s Keith. I’m totally scared. I said: “Where are you?” Keith goes, “I’m where I’m supposed to be, man. Thanks a lot, pal!” And he hung up. So I got in a cab and was over there in a heartbeat. I walked in, not knowing what to expect, Keith’s just sitting there, trying to remain serious. Then he burst out laughing! I never did that again, though.
“hey, get over here!”
NILS LOFGREN, E-Streeter
I’d written “Keith Don’t Go” during the Tonight’s The Night tour with Neil Young in ’73, because everyone kept telling me how worried they were about his health. The song was just a way of saying thank you, stick around, we need you. One time in LA – I think it was the Steel Wheels tour – I was backstage playing ping-pong with Branford Marsalis when Keith walked by in a hurry. He was off to kiss some babies, as they say sometimes. He saw me, came over and gave me a big hug. Then he yelled at some photographer: “Hey, get over here! Take a picture of me and Nils!” The guy came over, flustered, and took the shot. Then Keith said, “Great to see you, mate. I gotta go!” He pointed at the photographer: “You make sure he gets that!” That was a very precious moment for me. Another time, backstage on an X-Pensive Winos tour, Keith was in a corner, plugged into an amp, playing a Chuck Berry riff. There was such a soul and depth to it, and a reverence I’d never heard before. He’d internalised it and made it his own. It just didn’t sound like Chuck Berry, it sounded better. The man is a huge inspiration.
“there is some pirate in there!”
BERNARD FOWLER, the Stones’ other singer
I guess I was in awe of Keith when we first met. I’d actually seen him one time before, when I got out of school, at a deli in the Rockefeller Center in New York. I yelled something at him and he yelled back, then got in his limousine and drove off. But I started to get close to him during my first tour with the Stones, the Steel Wheels tour. We did a lot of hanging out, listened to a lot of blues. I remember staying with Keith once, in a house that he’d rented. What struck me was his morning ritual. He’d get up, make his breakfast, then pick up a book of shiplogs. I walk in and he has a glass of wine and he’s reading fucking ships’ logs and books about the history of piracy. I thought, ‘Damn, it’s real! There is some pirate in there for sure! Other times I would hear him say things that would reference nautical stuff, making jokes about gruel and shit like that. Keith’s an incredible person and a lot sharper than some people might think. He’s got an elephant brain, he don’t forget shit. His recall is amazing.
“he’s a true hero”
Special tribute: JOHNNY MARR
KEITH was a total hero to me as a kid. I loved his guitar-playing, but it was more his ideology, really. just saw him as someone with ultimate integrity. He was a massive influence on me for his philosophy more than anything. When I was in The Smiths, I felt like I was in my own Rolling Stones. We had a very interesting, idiosyncratic frontman and I was able to take care of just the music, taking the Keith Richards philosophy of being behind the scenes, but also being the engine of the band. He seemed to me to be on a total mission, not to self-destruct, but to find something in music that he loved. Almost a crusade. “Gimme Shelter” has the best guitar solo that’s ever been on record. I think there’s only about six notes in total, but it’s played with pure feeling and is totally appropriate. Keith invented a complete guitar style and genre all his own, which is no mean feat.
He didn’t just invent a sound, but a whole new guitar style, possibly the coolest style since Robert Johnson or Hubert Sumlin. It strips out any unnecessary intellectualising or technical nonsense and just gets to the heart of it.
I think it’s very easy to get carried away with the whole junkie martyr nonsense that used to surround him. I’ve met Keith a few times now and, when you get to the core of it and find out what he’s really like, he’s someone who just won’t be told how to live his own life. In that way, he’s a true hero in the same way that Muhammad Ali was, standing up for his principles and not being beaten down by uninformed authority. So ! don’t think Keith was standing up for drug taking, he was standing up for his own life.
“off to see caravaggio”
FRANKIE GAVIN, fine fiddler
Keith and Ronnie and their families were staying at a hotel near Oughterard, where Ilive. Over dinner, Keith said they were going to make an album in Dublin [Voodoo Lounge] and would I do a couple of pieces on it. Of course I said yes! He was soft-spoken, quiet, funny and, as I got to know him, very well read. Quite different to the public persona, the tough guy image, if you like. He was a gentleman. Keith and Ronnie are both great painters, great artists. So during the recording, they wanted to see the Caravaggio painting (The Taking Of Christ] which had just been discovered in Ireland.
They only had so much time, but thanks to a very dear friend of mine – who happens to now be the President of Ireland – they organised a private viewing at the National Gallery. So we all scuttled up the road together from the hotel. That was a great experience. Since then, Keith has just been a wonderful friend. After I got sick [Gavin had cancer in 2022], my son set up a GoFundMe page and Keith was very generous to me on that. It was a really touching and emotional thing, to be perfectly honest.
“completely on his own terms”
MARK ISHAM, brass master
The juxtaposition of Mick and Keith couldn’t have been more perfectly represented when I was playing trumpet on Voodoo Lounge. Keith was in a T-shirt and vest, the whole rock’n’roll look, exactly as you’d expect Keith Richards to look. Mick was in a pressed white business shirt with a blue blazer and slacks. He could’ve been a banker with slightly longer hair.
Mick seemed to be quite analytical, whereas Keith was just in the moment. He walked into the room from whatever he’d been doing, just bobbing his head and going, “Yeah, yeah…” It seemed to me to reflect the persona of each of them that I’d always gotten from a distance. Keith, from what I could see, was just feeling it. Growing up, I was one of those classical jazz snobs. I didn’t really listen to the Stones or The Beatles until my early twenties. To me, Keith was a prime example of someone who’s developed a technique that is virtually flawless, but completely on his own terms. Self-discovered and self-created. It was a beautiful thing to see.
“a rock-solid cat”
LENNY CASTRO, percussion king
LENNY CASTRO, percussion king Don Was called me in for the Voodoo Lounge sessions. I noticed a few things about Keith. He’s a gentle soul, a consummate professional and an extraordinary musician. His guitar chops shocked me. I was just sitting there listening to him noodling, thinking, “This guy is playing some really wise and beautiful stuff here.” The total opposite of what you’d hear on stage with the Stones, which is its own beast in itself. There are many layers to musicians that most people don’t have the pleasure of experiencing, and this was one of those moments. Totally out of left field, with Keith just playing some gorgeous lines at breakneck speed.
It was a pleasure to be in the same room. I remember telling him, at the end of the session, that if they ever needed a percussionist I’d love to have the job. He looked at me and said [puts on a low, gruff voice]: “It’s a long list, but your name’s at the top.” I thought, “Right, OK. That’s all I need to know!” He’s just a rock-solid cat.
“practically did a pirouette”
DANNY SABER, serial collaborator
Mick had brought me in to play on Bridges To Babylon at Ocean Way Studio. What broke the ice with Keith was when I invited my dad along one day. He was a huge Stones fan, but also a kind of obnoxious East Coast Jewish guy. I was in the studio with Mick, so I sent my dad into the lounge. When we’re done, I walk down the hall and see my dad and Keith, arm in arm. My dad’s got the floor, telling jokes that I can’t repeat any more. Keith goes to me: “You! I wasn’t sure about you. But now that I’ve met the old man, you’re alright.” From that moment on, Keith and I were good. Then I went on the road with the Stones. We’re in New York and Keith is entertaining in his hotel room after the gig. It was really cold, so somebody suggested we close the window. Keith was sitting down, 25 feet away. He immediately jumped up, landed on the edge of a couch, practically did a pirouette and jumped onto this window sill in a squatting position. If he’d gone a little further, he would’ve fallen 50 floors. He pulled the window down, then jumped back into his seat. It was like art, just watching the man close a window.
“a look of genuine gratitude”
SIMON KIRKE, Free/Bad Company drummer
There have been myriad stories about Keith over the years, mainly about his indulging of various chemicals, but I want to show another side of him that few have ever seen: his sensitivity. I saw the Stones on their Bridges To Babylon tour in New York City. They had this novel idea to have a stage B accessed by a huge walkway that went over the stadium field to a tiny stage almost dead centre. About an hour into the show, the lights went down and Mick, Keith, Ronnie and Charlie – accompanied by Darryl Jones and Chuck Leavell – trooped over the bridge and settled into position to start “Miss You”. I was only several feet away. As Chuck started the song on piano, Keith suddenly realised that he didn’t have a guitar pick. Quick as a flash, Pierre, his longtime guitar tech, shot across the stage and handed him one. With a look of genuine gratitude, Keith said into a nearby mic: “I couldn’t do this without him, y’know.” It was a beautiful moment.
“no sweat, pussy!”
BLONDIE CHAPLIN, Beach Boy
I first met Keith when he was doing some work on Justin Hinds’ project, Wingless Angels (1997). He was very charming, extremely easy to talk to. Then I got involved with the Stones on Bridges To Babylon. As we got to know each other better, we’d talk about music: classical, reggae, rock, a little African. And cricket. On the road with the Stones, we’d watch the big test matches, especially when South Africa – where I’m from – were playing England.
Ronnie and Charlie would come in there as well and we’d watch for hours. I ended up singing on Crosseyed Heart (2015) and it was such a joy. Keith would be like, “Yeah, that’s good. OK, Pussy.” That’s what he called me. “No sweat, Pussy! Let it breathe.” On the road, whenever there was a day off, Keith and I would go take these walkabouts around five or six in the morning. You’d see guys going to work, with their lunch pails: “Hey, how you doing, Keith? I can’t believe it!” Sometimes I’c get an education. In San Sebastian in Spain, for instance, Keith would point and say, “There’s the best place in town for fillet of sole.” Just little shit like that. Now, whenever I’m eating sole, who do you think I’m thinking about?
“A real one, nothing fake”
AARON NEVILLE, soul brother
I met Keith in 1981, when the Neville Brothers got asked to open up for The Rolling Stones on their stadium tour. We had mad respect for each other – it was mutual. Keith is one of the most down-to-earth guys I’ve ever met. He’s a real one, nothing fake. When Don Was wanted to produce my album of doo-wop songs, My True Story (2013), he brought Keith in to co-produce with him. Don told me a story about making Voodoo Lounge with the Stones. His hotel room was beneath Keith’s room and he’d hear him playing “My True Story” by The Jive Five on a loop, just like I did back in the day. We had a ball reminiscing and laughing about all of those songs we both listened to as kids, even being an ocean apart. Keith was hands-on as a producer, playing guitar on almost every track. We went into the studio with 21 songs and ended up recording 23 in five days. Keith said that these hardened musicians were acting like a bunch of kids, which was the absolute truth. Love ya, brother!
“a good heart”
DON WAS, producer
Working on Blue & Lonesome [2016], the plan was not to make a blues album, it was to make a new album. But somewhere in the third day we just needed a break from working on a song and Keith suggested playing Little Walter’s “Blue And Lonesome”. It was just to blow off steam or cleanse the palate and then go back to working on the other songs. But it sounded incredible and that’s the version you hear on the album. By the end of the day we had six tracks cut and it became pretty clear what we should probably do. You’d have to call Keith the driving force [behind the album], but beyond that it was recreation, it was fun. There was a real surge of excitement. There’s something really beautiful in the way Keith plays. It’s very humble guitar-playing, he’s never showin off. It’s always about the feel and it’s always a soulful expression rather than a showcase of technique. It takes a certain personality in the face of music to play like that and not ham it up. He could do that, but it takes a good person to play with humility, a good heart.
“reminiscing in jamaica”
MATT CLIFFORD, keyboardist
I think what really sparked off Hackney Diamonds was a session we did in Jamaica last year, in February. It was basically just myself, Mick and Keith. The two of them were getting on so well. So much music flowing, so many ideas coming along. They were doing some great reminiscing in Jamaica, which was quite fun. Mick would pull up a review of a Stones gig from 1964 on his phone and Keith would say: “Oh yeah, I remember that was in Wolverhampton. Then we drove to Aberystwyth…” He has this total recall of events.
It was something I hadn’t really seen with the two of them before. I think they’re very different people and often it’s that tension that can provide creativity. Mick once said to me that Keith never really wanted to be in the spotlight. I think he would agree with that. I think he would’ve been quite happy to have been a writer, to have been behind the scenes. He’s not an extrovert like Mick, but I suppose their journey in the Stones brought out this other side of him. They complement each other perfectly.
“a complex and complicated relationship”
MICK JAGGER, brother in arms
On Hackney Diamonds, we did do these two sessions before we went to LA to do the actual recordings. I brought some of these songs in and Keith worked on them with me, and he made the guitar parts that I brought better. We found “Driving Me Too Hard” in some of the previous sessions, but it wasn’t finished, so we kind of revived the riff and the idea. Then Keith and I finished it in the studio late in the day, so that was good fun. We’ve always worked two in a room together. We also did things very much apart. Ilove to write with Keith and I love to write stuff on my own. We have a pretty good working relationship. He knows what I’m going to do and I know what he’s going to do. Ifhe needs covering, I’ll cover for him, and if he needs to cover me, he will. I don’t live anywhere near Keith, so I don’t have time to sit down and write with him unless we make writing dates.
It’s business as well as working together on a creative level, in addition to being friends, because that goes back even before those other things started. So because it’s on all of those levels, it makes for a very complex and complicated relationship. It’s amazingly long-lived, though I still don’t really pretend to understand it.
With thanks to Paul Sexton and Nigel Williamson
And finally…
BURNT TOAST TO KEITH
BY TOM WAITS
When I think about Keith, I am reminded that
the best songs come from the gutter…but it is a
hell of a place to fish when you have to sit on the curb
What do you use for bait? a piece of red cloth will do or a candy wrapper
Good songs jump right on your hook and the hook
is in the song for good…Keith can grit his teeth and he
can voice a chord with his upper lip I// and when the night is winding
down…..Keith sounds like an orchestra tuning up…
a blue schemer in a wavy glass mirror, like partially
melted chords left out in the sun too long…and if you
listen to the chords that fall out of Keiths coat..it is
like broadway out of focus.. an electric powder blue
fog bank with 100s of tunes inside, crying…
They are like fish just dying to get down in the pan and start frying.
Feathers, finger nails scabs and scars /// some songs are
written on the way to the studio in rented cars /// never confuse
the amount of time it takes with the depth of the duende eh?
Keep the tape rolling Keith thinks, I am sitting on a BIG EGG and
it needs another minute or so before I can blow my top.
Keith…long may you twirl, Splash, curl, slash, take a blue marble
and turn it into a 49 Mercury saw the girl in half and make the elephant disappear….
Happy Birthday KEITH the big 80 is here, slap it in the face and wake it up…Love TOM W.