ROCK ‘N’ ROLL ARCHETYPE: KEITH RICHARDS

Keith Richards might very well be the most obnoxious likeable musician around. Now, my main gripe with the guy is that he keeps dropping and adding the “s” to his surname. Happily, this is a minor point and I figure his good points outweigh this inexplicable eccentricity.

I can see where others might not be so hot on ol’ Keef, though. (Come to think of it, 1 always thought “Keef’ was pretty stupid, just a notch above “Glimmer Twins.”) If any seven consecutive words lifted at random from Up And Down With The Rolling Stones are on speaking terms with the truth, then the erstwhile hepcat is a bit of a drooler in private life.

Richards’ private life is his own biz, though...what he can keep private, that is. The Stones have had as much difficulty generating press as World War II had on a slow day. Either you’re Billy Wyman or Charlie Watts or you take your chances. In any case, it’s a cinch that Richards, Jagger, and (fill in the third Stone of your choice) have scarcely been living at. 12 rpm all these years, so they’ll just have to take it like men.

Leaving Richards The Person to his own devices, we can turn to Richards The Guitarist, where we’ll eventually meet up with Richards The Songwriter, Richards The Performer, Richards The Singer, and Richards The Producer. A lotta Richards lurking around, all right there on vinyl, some of it onstage. Ultimately they’ll all merge into one gigantic Richards and take over the world. Before they do it, let’s look at the facets of this particluar gem, for—if nothing else—Keith R!chards is certainly unique unto the cultural cattle called rock stars. The scoring system is the familiar Olympic Diving Subjecto-Tally, where seven points means “You sure you wanna do this for a living?,” eight means “Glad you showed up, stick around," nine stands for “Don’t stop now, pal, you’re almost history,” and the almost-unattainable ten: “You’re important! Now you can be normal!”

RICHARDS AS GUITARIST: Well, this is the man’s forte, after all. Dusting off the dreaded adjective list, we find punchy, terse, timely, and tasteful under the heading: Richard(s), Keith, guitar style. See also Berry, Chuck.

Truer words, you bet. Mr. R. developed into some kind of guitar player for a guy who started out trying to be the white Chuck Berry. Richards’ verve is dissecting, amplifying and improving Berry’s riffs is probably without parallel in the 25-yearrun of Real Musicians. No slur against C.B. is intended, but Richards wiped him out on Berry’s own material, which is probably why every Stones’ cover of the duckwalker’s tunes sound so much better than the originals. “Around And Around” and “Carol” are the most conspicuous of the bunch, but the clean-up continues on down to less interesting exhumations like “Bye Bye Johnny” and “Come On.” Of course, nowadays, everybody with ten digits plays “better” than Berry, but Richards has never been touched in this sub-genre ju-ju.

History tells us that Richards was Stones’ rock-cat whilst Brian Jones hung tough for All That Was White Delta. “Moot point!” yells the ref, just before the buzzer. Dues-oriented Richards might’ve been at his best on the main street, but by the time Exile On What It Is came to call he was as bluesed-out as anyone this side of Jimmy Reed on American Bandstand. That the same gentleman who sang call-and-answer on the vaudevillian “Something Happened To Me Yesterday” (Between The Buttons) could do the hip shake, babe, was Eclecto:ville, like yeah.

Spin that wheel again and out pops the Country Keith Richards. His tour de jour picking on “No Expectations” (Beggar’s Banquet) tipped off his interest—and passable talent—in slo-mo hand doodling. “Wild Horses,” “You Got The Silver,” “Angie,” and hobnobbing with the late Gram Parsons all followed, until it was clear that Richards could pick just as good as he could thwang. Which is to say: pretty good, understatement fans.

No slur against Chuck Berry is intended, but Keith Richards wiped him out on Berry's own material.

That Richards could develop his several styles in an actual band format (as opposed to the space/time solo career of Jimi Hendrix) makes him one of metal’s more interesting mechanics. Whether he was chunking behind Jones’ slides, Taylor’s manifestly impeccable leads, or Wood’s more neighborly licks, he’s always been regarded as the Stones’ “guitarist.” This might be unfair to the aforementioned trio, but it’s probably true...Richards’ guitarwork has defined the Stones—good or bad—as much as Jagger’s mumbles or the other guys’ rhythm round-ups. The Stones have tried more (and successfully, too) than any of the survivors and Richards has been there for the whole trip.

The scoring? Innate Talent: 8.5. Originality and Style: 9.5. Lasting Influence: 10.0.

RICHARDS AS SONGWRITER:

Being a tunesmith of some ability probably gives Richards an edge over rock’s other celebrated six-string salesmen. All of ’em— Page, Hendrix, Beck, Clapton—can sho’ nuff p/ay, but nary a one has shown more than an occasional flair for the meat-andpotatoes of music. Richards, on the other hand, has made a living at actually writing. Some might consider him the Paul McCartney of the real world.

Like his plunking, the Richards Writing Resume was slow in developing and long in staying-power. Of course, having Jagger around probably helped a mite, but there’s no point in trying to refute the litany of great Jagger/Richards songs.

In fact, being able to write as well as he does has probably been one of the big subliminals in playing as well as he does. Whereas other hot hands might tend to wail excessive, Richards has never come across as being a death-sealing egotist— and remember, he’s playing the fiddle that God handed down to H. Sapien with the instructions: “P/ay it louder, everyone's looking at you.” Restraint in a guitar player? Sobriety in a priest? Potty-trained bears??

Anyway, suffice it to say that a hand on the destiny-control dial has allowed Richards to range wider than many other talented picksters. Play “Satisfaction,” “Dear Doctor,” and “Sympathy For The Devil” in succession and nod in agreement.

The cards are flashed: 10.0, 10.0, and 9.5. Well, one of the judges likes early Dylan.

RICHARDS AS SINGER: The more we keep going, the better this guy gets. High-note Keith has salvaged Jagger on more than a couple of dozen cuts with his truly superb back-up singing. His guitarist/ vocalist rivals in this sense have been John Lennon, Pete Townshend, and Dave Davies, all fine singers, and two of ’em pretty good guitar players. Consulting the critical slide rule, we must place Richards just behind Lennon and just ahead of Townshend. Lennon/McCartney harmonies will be matched when funk is where you find it, but Richards has consistently shown more slip-slop rapport with Jagger than Townshend has with Daltrey. That is to say, one doesn’t get the feeling that Richards should actually be singing lead, whereas on several Whotoons one almost wishes that P.T. (or even Entwistle) had the main mike.

The other side of the coin—K.R. as front singer—Is not as peachy, but is scarcely shinola. Richards’ voice isn’t strong (in the sense of stylists like Morrison or his own Mick-o) enough to make the seven basic food groups. As an occasional snack (i.e., “Happy”), it’s more than digestible, but Richards simply can’t sing rock as well as Townshend or—genuflect with purpose— Lennon.

Tune in to “Empty Heart,” “In Another Land,” "Honky Tonk Women,” or just about any Stones’ song of note, though, and Complementary Keith is swerveless verve.

Back-ups? 10.0. Lead vocals: 8.0. On with the show.

RICHARDS AS PERFORMER: A long time ago when even football teams didn’t play in football stadiums, people could cough up their bucks and actually see and hear musicians. This was a lot of fun, coz it gave the fans a chance to compare the animated, pock-marked virtuoso of the more familiar 2-D cover boy, wallow in trillions of auanta of energy, and—the most fun of all—hear unexpected (sometimes subtle) re-arrangements of favorite songs

Stepping onto the Wayback Machine, we see that the Stones were Huns of Fun in days of yore. Head Lipster Jagger was the focal point—and latet on, in the glimmer days, the bi focal point, of course. Documentary evidence from these invasion-ear shows (random live cuts on American LPs and British EPs, The Tami Show, Heroes of Rock clips, Got Live!, etc.) presents the Stones as manic noisemakers. Rarely do they sound as polished as their generally-unpolished studio antics.

Creeping forward, the Stones became less onstage speedsters and more showmen during the 70’s. This was a generally unfortunate trend—particularly during the tragic Altamont and Love You Live tours. One suspects that they were embarrassed by their overall sloppiness when they resumed touring (1969), especially in contrast to the slick groups packing arenas. The tragedy lies in the Stones becoming too slick—even sticky—to take seriously. No post-1969 Stones’ show I’ve seen is half as interesting as The Tami Show, they were meant to sound jumbled, casual, and arrogantly half-crummy.

Well, where does Richards fit into this checkered history? Guitar deep-thinkers will sometimes judge the picker by his bottom-line in-concert hand jive. If we are to be so harsh, then we can count Richards’ faults like so many raisins in a package of Kellogg’s Raisin Bran. He was as good at messing up his licks as he was writing ’em. He was generally dirty enough for Jagger to yell “Ring around the fretboard!” He even forgot his own arrangements.

Naturally, I’m one of the jerks that counts these as his good points. Richards forged a persona that he should’ve franchised, considering how many wowsers panted in pointless imitation. Even as Jagger was pandering to every denominator in sight, Richards had the good taste to popularize the so-called “elegantly wasted” look. In fact, he probably didn’t have much of a choice.

To sum it up, Richards is one of the true rarities in thimbleful of guitar talent: he looks like what he is. 10.0 all the way around.

RICHARDS AS PRODUCER: Let’s get this over with quickly, since everyone knows producers are as inevitable—and as useful—as diaper rash, the complete collection of Barry Manilow albums, and zucchini with nacho cheese flavor.

The original Big Ear, Andrew Loog Oldham, served the Stones passably well from the starting gate through Between The Buttons. The less he did, the better, and—let’s face it—he didn’t exactly have to be Tom Scholz to make “Satisfaction,” “The Last Time,” “Have You Seen Your Mother, Baby,” and their other two hits sound OK. No point in knocking A.L.O., though; the Stones certainly prospered during those years.

A quick hiatus with Jagger/Richards as producers (Satanic Majesties) proved indecisive, since everybody was laughing too hard at the songs to care about the production. Enter Jimmy Miller, who would play the big P from Beggar's Banquet through Goat's Head Soup. Just to be blunt, Miller was the best producer they ever had, “Tumbling Dice” was the best-produced song they ever cut, and after Soup who would’ve wanted to be the fall-guy? Count Miller as the closest the Stones ever came to having a George Martin of their very own.

Starting with It’s On/y Rock 'n' Roll and up to Homo Erectus, the Glimmer Twins have held the reins. Are they good producers? Yeah. Are they great producers? Sure, when they get great material to work with. Unfortunately, they’ve only elicited one great album—Some Girls— from the Glimmer Writing And Royalties Collecting Co., Ltd.

Amid judgely confusion, a compromise 7.5 figure is posted, with a footnote that no one seems to care.

☆ ☆ ☆

I haven’t added up the points, but I figure an overall 9.5 sounds about right for Mr. Stone. He might even get a perfect 10.0 if Patti Smith would go away for good, but she probably won’t respond to my objective appeal.

One final area of Richards’ expertise deserves a mention, though: his natural aptitude at great quotes. Writers like great quotes even more tjian sane people, so mebbe I’m a little biased, but there’s no doubt that this boy’s got it. Listen, this is the stuff that stars are made of:

“/ reckon there are three reasons why American R&B stars don’t click with British teenage fans. One, they’re old; two, they’re black; three, they’re ugly.

March 10, 1965

“If they really believe you can start a revolution with a record, they are wrong. February 1, 1969.

“Altamont was something that the Stones could have well done without.” — June 26, 1971.

“J only ever get ill when I give up drugs. October 15, 1974.

And, of course, the all-time PR masterpiece:

“I couldn't possibly do what I do onstage if I didn’t take care of myself. ’’—June 8, 1975.