It’s out. The autobiography of Keith Richards, the would-be librarian is called Life (Little, Brown & Co.) and there’s a lot of Life (and drugs and mom and music and women and Mick, etc.) inside.
Review from Head Butler:
Fame. When it comes, there’s no way out; you need it to do your work. The Stones at least brought a new look to it; they pissed on the press, didn’t care what the record company wanted. Only the music mattered. As Berry Gordy liked to say, “It’s what’s in the grooves that counts.”
and the New York Times:
By turns earnest and wicked, sweet and sarcastic and unsparing, Mr. Richards, now 66, writes with uncommon candor and immediacy. He’s decided that he’s going to tell it as he remembers it, and helped along with notebooks, letters and a diary he once kept, he remembers almost everything. He gives us an indelible, time-capsule feel for the madness that was life on the road with the Stones.
Recent Comments