50 Licks Page 18

  Peter Rudge is running the tour. I fall in love with Peter because he’s a character of major proportions. He’s hysterically funny and he’s so smart.

  In effect, Greenfield was an honorary member of the group. And his memories of the time were as extraordinary as anyone’s. Remember the Stones’ trip to Alabama in 1969? Three years later, things weren’t that different but were maybe just starting to change.

  ROBERT GREENFIELD: We got to Mobile, Alabama—my distinct memory was that there were these little shacks all around the gig in which black people lived, where old black men were rocking back and forth on the porches. There were thousands of white kids to see the Stones. I don’t think there was a single black person in the audience. Stevie Wonder opened every night. Every night, a bunch of us would go up and watch Stevie. I saw all these white kids and I have to believe that was the start of cultural change in America. That once you love black music, you’re going to have some problems thinking black people aren’t as good as you are.

  Across the country, the audience was changing before their eyes.

  ROBERT GREENFIELD: The other amazing thing was being in Minneapolis, where everybody was white and blond and seeing seventeen-year-old guys in full makeup and drag. Mick knows all about Bowie, that’s why he looks that way on the tour. He’s wearing this beaded onesie that’s cut down to his navel. He’s wearing eye makeup; he’s got a full-time makeup man on the tour. He’s well aware of the transgender, cross-sexual vibe that’s going on in England. It’s not going on in America, that we know about, yet here are these kids who have already tuned into T. Rex and it’s already starting. The ’60s have ended and the weirdness of the ’70s is beginning.

  Another notable stop on the tour was the Playboy Mansion.

  ROBERT GREENFIELD: In Chicago, the Playboy Mansion scene was insane. It was hot and cold running bunnies and playmates. The bunnies were keeping score, I later learned, keeping track of how many Stones they had slept with. One of my great memories was going into Keith’s bedroom there—he had been out that day buying guitars at pawnshops—and I swear to you a playmate I recognized came in while he was talking to me about the guitar, and Keith said something to her like, “That’s alright darling. I’ll fuck you later.” She said, “OK,” and she walked out.

  The other great moment: there was a grand piano in the living room and Stevie sat down to play, and I was leaning on the piano. And he’s singing this show tune I’d never heard before. It was stunning.

  The tour was marked by a large number of outsiders backstage, including a pimp/doctor, multiple writers, a filmmaker, Keith’s pals, friends of Mick’s from the jet set. It became a source of tension.

  KEITH RICHARDS: Personally I just don’t want to know about ’em. I mean, how they get in there and why they’re there in the first place, I don’t really know. It’s a difficult thing to handle anyway, because it starts with things like, Oh, Truman Capote is going to come along and write something on the Stones and he comes along and brings along Princess Lee Radziwill and some other socialites from New York and you’re surrounded by those people. I mean, all those jet setters must be loud or something. They seem to be on this massive ego trip anyway, which I just don’t want to know about. All I can say is those people will not be around a second time. There’s no way they’re going to be in our company ever again.

  MICK JAGGER: The whole business was very exaggerated. After all, there were only two people on the tour, and they were only there for a couple of days. I mean, REALLY.

  By the tour’s end, the Stones were at another level in multiple senses of the word. The tour culminated on July 26, 1972, Mick’s twenty-ninth birthday, with one of the band’s greatest ever performances (the Birthday Show), followed by a celebration of the Stones courtesy of Ahmet Ertegun.

  ROBERT GREENFIELD: The other iconic moment would have been the party on the roof of the St. Regis hotel where Ahmet Ertegun introduced the Stones to another level of social life in America. The entertainment was Muddy Waters and Count Basie . . . What you saw on the ’72 tour was a weird mixture. The counterculture is still dying, but by the time they get to New York and they go to that party on the St. Regis roof, they are now enshrined as full-on superstar show business celebrities who play rock ’n’ roll, which is no longer an outlaw form of music, but by the end of the Stones’ ’72 tour is now hip for the wealthy and the famous and the powerful.

  The St. Regis roof party was the talk of the town, described by Bob Dylan as “encompassing. It’s the beginning of cosmic consciousness. A Felliniesque finale to the Stones tour.”

  ROBERT GREENFIELD: That party makes Truman Capote’s Black and White Ball look like small potatoes. That is the ultimate New York party.

  The party was arranged by Ahmet Ertegun, the founder and president of Atlantic Records.

  PETER RUDGE: It was a match made in heaven, the Stones and Ahmet, the son of an ambassador and aristocrat, a culturally sophisticated man with an unbelievable love of blues and jazz. Those characteristics were manifested individually in Mick and Keith. He was kind of that person who could sit with Keith for hours talking about music, could sit for hours with Mick talking about music. It was a magical run, the Rolling Stones and Atlantic Records. It’s where the Stones wanted to be because they loved the soul and DNA of the label. They were with someone that could help build their social profile, to introduce Mick to a world he was fascinated with socially. And Ahmet knew how to play Charlie with all the jazz stuff. He knew how to play Bill Wyman with all of the football stuff. He was masterful.

  He had a tremendous effect on the Stones—musically and individually. He genuinely loved being with them . . . It was fun . . . It was a team and Ahmet was very much a part of that team, and Ahmet respected the Stones agenda.

  When they signed to Atlantic Records, they went to finishing school almost. They graduated. By the time they came out of Atlantic Records, they were institutionalized. They lost the street edge. Ahmet was a tremendous influence in the Stones’ life.

  ROBERT GREENFIELD: The heavy hitter on the tour was Ahmet. When Ahmet showed up at a gig, everybody stood at attention. He must have spent as much money on them in New York as they made at the Garden that night. Ahmet and Mick socially were parallel figures. Even Mick knew he was with someone of equal weight.

  Greenfield was impressed with the Stones’ work ethic. They were always trying to get better.

  ROBERT GREENFIELD: Bill Graham said, “If they weren’t great, nobody would want to buy tickets to come and see them.” They always left it all on stage. I saw Keith furious angry screaming at Charlie at shows in England because he wasn’t on the beat. That’s somebody who gives a shit. I saw them after shows—they would record everything on little recorders—sort of disconsolate. Jagger sitting in a hotel room with his head in his hands, “Fuck, we were shit! So fucking bad.” They always wanted to walk out and do great shows.

  And usually, they did. It’s interesting to note that Greenfield hasn’t seen the Stones since.

  ROBERT GREENFIELD: Once you’re off the bus, you can’t get back on.

  CHAPTER 30

  ON WITH THE SHOW

  ONE OF THE Stones’ most memorable run-ins with the law happened on the ’72 tour.

  ROBERT GREENFIELD: Boston is under siege. It has undergone three days of race riots and the entire police department is deployed in the ghetto.

  STEVE NAZRO: My boss, Eddie Powers, who was president of the Garden, wanted to see me in the office. He said, “The Stones, because of the fog, could not land in Boston, and they were diverted to Green Airport in Rhode Island.”

  ROBERT GREENFIELD: The photographer for the local rag is there taking pictures. Mick and Keith are standing there waiting for their bags. The photographer’s too close, snapping photos. Keith said, “Get the fuck out of here, man.” For whatever reason Keith doesn’t take kindly to the photographer’s response and he smashes the camera. The photographer called the police, and they come and they put the grip on Ke
ith. Now Mick, he’s not going to let Keith get arrested without him getting arrested. So Mick makes enough trouble that they have to arrest him too.

  PETER RUDGE: One minute I’m going through the Yellow Pages of the Rhode Island airport trying to look for a bail bondsman to get us out of there, then the next I remember the mayor calling me saying, “Peter, I have a city on fire. The Stones have got to get here or there’s going to be a full-scale riot.” I said, “Do what you can to help us. We can’t get Keith out. We can’t move. We’re trapped here.”

  ROBERT GREENFIELD: Mick and Keith are fucking delighted because they have immunity. They know that they’re supposed to be in Boston Garden starting a show at eight o’clock at night and everything these cops do to fuck this up is going to come back to them. Now we get the Stones’ lawyers. One thing about the Stones, they are lawyered-up with guys that are so powerful they only have to make two phone calls. Peter Rudge is having a mental breakdown.

  DON LAW: At that point, I got a call from Peter Rudge, who said, “We really screwed up this time. Keith kicked a photographer. The police hauled him off to jail.” I said, “You should sit tight. We’re going to see if we can get you out of there because we’re not going to give up the show.” So we got on the phone and we started calling people.

  MIKE MARTINEK: I was standing fairly close up to the stage. It was stiflingly hot and very humid. The smell of sweat, sandalwood, and marijuana just permeated the place.

  STEVE NAZRO: Stevie Wonder had already played. There was a break and people hadn’t been notified yet. They asked Stevie Wonder to play again, and he did.

  ROBERT GREENFIELD: We now have eighteen thousand stoned, angry, long-haired white kids, who can’t get home because all public transportation has already shut down for the night. And some of them would probably like to break a few windows and set fire to a few buildings in downtown Boston . . .

  DON LAW: One of the people we called was Kevin White, who then was able to call the governor of Rhode Island, who reached back to the police station and said, “We have a public safety issue. You have to release these guys.” And that got them out and they sent them up with an escort to the Garden.

  ROBERT GREENFIELD: Kevin White, in what I still believe to be an extraordinary act of personal courage, walked out on stage. The initial crowd reaction was, “Fuck you!”

  DON LAW: Kevin White, who still had serious national political aspirations, came out said, “My city is in turmoil tonight and I need to pull the police out of here. But I have bad news: the Rolling Stones were fogged out of Boston, had to land in Rhode Island, and were arrested.” The whole place boos. Then Kevin White said, “But I called and we’ve gotten them out and they are on their way.” There was so much cheering it was like the Bruins won the Stanley Cup. The problem of course was we then had a couple hours to waste while they made the trip up.

  ROBERT GREENFIELD: The Stones are famous for being late; they never go on stage on time. Everybody knows this. For a while Chip Monck is stalling, reading Jonathan Livingston Seagull to the crowd.

  DON LAW: We wound up getting things to throw around: Frisbees, footballs, beach balls. Nobody got thrown out.

  PETER RUDGE: We got into the old Boston Garden and they announced, “The Stones are here.” Everybody just went crazy. It was just something amazing.

  STEVE NAZRO: I was most impressed by the fact that we had no arrests. Everybody had paid to see the Rolling Stones and by God they were going to see the Rolling Stones. It took close to an act of God, but things worked out. Watching the show, you’d never know there was something wrong. They were magnificent; they were energetic; they played to the crowd; they gave a wonderful repartee back and forth. I was never a big Stones fan before then but I became a Stones fan that night.

  MIKE MARTINEK: They released an atomic bomb of a show. One of the highlights was an incandescent rendition of “All Down the Line.” To bring the whole thing full circle, many years later I was at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston and I happened to notice . . . Kevin White. I said, “Mr. Mayor, you don’t know me, but years ago I was at the Rolling Stones show when you got them out of jail. You made that show happen.”

  DON LAW: Kevin White was in his glory and I remember the next night, the Stones sent Kevin a personally signed poster, which he prized and had prominently displayed.

  The Stones in all their glory on the 1972 tour

  CHAPTER 31

  DANCING WITH MR. D

  THE STONES’ NEXT album, Goats Head Soup, was principally recorded in Jamaica and while it represents a step back artistically, it was a huge commercial success. An amusing quote from Mick at the time of the album’s release suggests the Stones were maybe just a little complacent and bored.

  MICK JAGGER: It was recorded all over the place, over about two or three months. I think you’ll like the album. The tracks are much more varied than the last one, and all that crap.

  ANDY JOHNS: Because of drug habits, those sessions weren’t quite as much fun. And there are a couple of examples on there where just the basic tracks we kept weren’t really up to standard. People were accepting things perhaps that weren’t up to standard because they were a little higher than normal. But there still are some fantastic things on there.

  Another issue was the continuing deterioration of Jimmy Miller.

  ANDY JOHNS: He was somewhat of a frail individual and they got to him like they got to everybody. Sooner or later you lose your mind. Jimmy was mad keen and sort of halfway in control of Sticky Fingers but his grip was slipping a bit. On Exile they sort of stopped listening to him and by the time we got to Goats Head Soup it was like he wasn’t there. That was a very tough record to make.

  You know, Mick and Keith back then could be pretty fuckin’ ruthless. It’s a defense mechanism because people forget how big a deal they were. So everybody and their uncle is trying to grab the hem of their coat. They always want something, you know. “Listen to this song. You should really do this song. I’ve got this great idea for a hotel. Give me the money.” Constantly. And the dope dealers and the groupies. So I guess that hardens you to a certain extent. I know it has to me a little bit.

  KEITH RICHARDS: Jimmy Miller went in a lion and came out a lamb. We wore him out completely . . . Jimmy was great, but the more successful he became the more he got like Brian . . . He ended up carving swastikas into the wooden console at Island Studios. It took him three months to carve a swastika. Meanwhile, Mick and I finished up Goats Head Soup.

  Miller was not invited for the recording sessions in Germany for It’s Only Rock ’n’ Roll (subsequently Mick and Keith assumed production credit under the name the Glimmer Twins).

  ROBERT GREENFIELD: Although Jimmy Miller certainly deserves to be remembered as one of the greatest rock producers who ever lived, virtually no one who listens to his music now on various greatest hits compilations has any idea who he was. Nameless and faceless, he has become just another name on the back of a repackaged CD case. Perhaps that is the way he would have wanted it. To be remembered for the music and nothing else.

  CHAPTER 32

  ANGIE

  THE STONES’ SEVENTH trip to the top of the charts came on October 20, 1973. Of the eight singles that rose to that pinnacle, only one other could even remotely be considered a ballad—“Ruby Tuesday”—and that was only because of the uproar caused by the original A side—“Let’s Spend the Night Together” (see chapter 14). “Angie,” however, was a hardcore power ballad. Recorded for the Goats Head Soup album, it was released as a single on August 20, over a week before the official album release, and once again started tongues wagging (no pun intended). But first, let’s take a look at the nuts-and-bolts process of the writing and recording.

  KEITH RICHARDS: Sometimes you have a hook, a phrase or a word or a name or something which maybe you don’t even intend to keep. A classic example is “Angie,” it was just a working title, like who’s gonna call a song “Angie,” how boring another chick’s name you know? But when you com
e around to actually writing the song and you sing “Angie, Angie,” eventually you have to live with it and say, “This song’s ‘Angie.’” Whether you intended it to be or not, that’s what it is. Sometimes you cannot get out of it, it’s meant to be there and you have to accept it. Other times, maybe the way somebody’s playing something will suggest a word or a phrase that nobody’s thought of before. Songs just come about in so many different ways.

  So that’s how “Angie” got her name. Then what about all the wild speculation concerning who or what the real Angie was? Here are just a few of the names that have been floated over the years: Marianne Faithfull, Anita Pallenberg, Mick Taylor, Angie Bowie, Angie Dickinson, Dandelion Angela Richards.

  MARSHALL CHESS QUITS IN 1977

  MARSHALL CHESS: At the end of my time with the Stones I had major problems with various addictions. At the end of Black and Blue I decided to quit. I woke up in a five-star hotel in Montreux and I felt like shit. I walked into the bathroom, looked in the mirror, and I could see the shape I was in—black circles around my eyes, painfully thin, horrible to look at. That night I told Mick I wanted out. It was like telling a girlfriend I’d been dating for eight years that I was leaving because it wasn’t working anymore. If I hadn’t got out I wouldn’t have survived. Quite simply, I’d have died. After I left the Stones it was a tough job coping with the change. My phone calls dropped from seventy a day to two a day. I had a million friends who loved me because I was a part of the Stones. Soon as I left, they didn’t want to know. I had to get used to some kind of normality.