Just recently, I completed reading Keith Richards’ 2010 memoir, Life, which I found to be a great read. I was fascinated because I grew up listening to the Rolling Stones. And in the book, Keith gives a personal touch to all the 50 years of rumors, innuendos and tales that have floated around the business regarding himself, the band and the colorful associated cast of characters who managed to find their way into the ongoing narrative.
Remember that most of the stories in the book take place in the last century, before the advent of cell phones, Internet and social media. Reality television did not exist, and the Spinal Tap rock ‘n’ roll clichés that are now a part of our consciousness were just then being created, acted out and publicized to a general population who responded with indignation and outrage toward the morally bereft musical heroes who held the general population’s sweet and innocent children in thrall with their loud, salacious and self-absorbed music and behavior. Rock ‘n’ roll bands were seen as the Pied Pipers from Hell who, with their songs, beguiled the wholesome and naive children to skip along with the beat as they followed the Piper down the road to lascivious degradation and moral ruin. And they were probably right; but it made for such good storytelling.
Tales of Yore
Way back in the last century, it was a different time and different place. And as there was no fear of an incident going viral for the entire world to see, certain behaviors could be acted out and then glorified by word of mouth as each story was passed around and, most likely, embellished by one incredulous teller to another. Every experience was new and exciting, and for those of us who chose to participate in the underground society of the rock ‘n’ roll music world, it was a rebellious escape into an underground subculture of teen spirit and outrageousness. Fueled by large quantities of intoxicants, some legal (most not), certain performers were inducted into the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Infamy with stories too large and shocking to just remain on the bus. For his part, Keith Richards’ book recounts his own version of history — both of the Rolling Stones and his own personal life. In part, one is amazed and awed by the fact that both Richards and The Stones are still viable and functioning, but they aren’t the only ones.
The tabloids have recounted many stories of rock stars pushing the limits of ethical and common decency, from Ozzie’s appetite for biting the heads off birds and bats to Nikki Sixx’s well-known overdoses. Keith Moon’s reputation for destruction was great fodder for storytellers everywhere and Jim Morrison, as well as Iggy Pop, had reputations for both exposing themselves on stage and sparking riots. Not all stories were based in fact, and while Rod Stewart has disavowed having gallons of seminal fluid pumped from his stomach, he did concede that he and Ron Woods would use cocaine suppositories after Ron burned a hole in his nose from too much inhalation of the drug.
Led Zeppelin’s foray into sex, drugs and the occult made for great story telling, as did the tales from groupies who kissed and told. Cynthia Plaster Caster recorded — in three-dimensional forms — the genital sizes of prominent rock stars, with Jimmy Hendrix of course being one of the bigger stars. Rumors of Janis Joplin’s insatiable appetite for men and women made for great storytelling, especially in a time that was not overly accepting of a less-than-heterosexual attitude. Of course, a life of excess does not suit everyone, and many of these stars didn’t make it past their 27th birthdays, some by accident while others, such as Kurt Cobain, by their own intent.
The Never Ending Story
The stories keep coming, and with each new generation of stars and shows, the legends keep getting additional play, while the newer and current crop of talented and famous add to the book with their own blasphemies, conquests and peccadilloes. We recount these stories with amazement and awe since we are always astonished by the fact that our shows and tours can sustain themselves in light of the debauchery and craziness that surrounds us. Recounting the technical or logistical horrors of our various shows helps us to relieve the tensions of our daily grind. From misinformed promoters to less-than-adequate equipment, poorly scheduled load-ins and load-outs to uneventful event planning, improper venues to hysterical clients, we have seen it all and, of course, the stories are told. Unfortunately, try as we must to keep our tales in the professional realm, our high-minded technical anecdotes inevitably turn into sordid scripts that could have easily found their way onto the Jerry Springer Show.
As time goes on, we gather more stories to share with our fellow workers and, as always, the bigger the act, the better the story. Sometimes there are those among us, much like a Keith Richards, who has led a fast and furious life with incredible highs and tortuous lows and have the stories to prove it.
A Semi-Personal Recollection
For those of us who have the regular run-of-the-mill road warrior battle exploits, all we can do is take a seat on the bus as we speed through the night to the next gig and listen in wonder to how crazy a rock ‘n’ roll life can truly be. So it was with a friend of mine, who had been on the road doing monitors for some of the bigger name acts in the 1980s. We would gather in the common area of the bus and he would entertain a few of us less-tainted engineers with various tales of his rock ‘n’ roll heart.
“In the 80s, I had been mixing monitors for this coliseum act, and we had been on the road for a year, traveling the world without a break. It was our last date on the tour, and then we were headed home for some well-deserved rest and relaxation. Spirits were high and the band members were all on their best behavior, since all the wives were coming to hang out and see the last show. Neither the tour manager nor I had a wife or girlfriend, so we decided to party a little to celebrate the tour’s end. We got an eight ball and a fifth of Jack and got pretty gakked up. As usual, I took my place at the monitor console about half an hour before the show,” he recalls.
“Just as I finished checking my console, the tour manager comes walking up with this really hot girl and say’s ‘Happy end of tour!’ and leaves the girl with me. She’s really excited to be able to see the band from an onstage vantage point and — of course — she had been partying a bit as well. We did a couple of lines together and about five minutes before the show was to start I see all the band wives coming onto stage to take their special seats in the wings, just about 20 feet from the monitor console. For some reason I got paranoid about them seeing the girl so I told her to duck under the desk until the lights went down. She did just that and I stood at the desk in my normal position so that no one could see her. I knew all the wives, and as they took their seats they waved to me, but as they were waving to me the girl under the desk was undoing my pants and starting to service me. What could I do? I just smiled and waved. I was getting into it and just then my front of house guy called to tell me we were starting a little late. The light for the phone was on top of the desk, but the Com unit was mounted in the rack below my desk. The sound was on and the beeping scared the girl under the desk. Being all gakked up and such, she got paranoid and thought that she had done something that would electrocute her, so she starts panicking and trying to get out. In doing so, she managed to send my console forward and crashing to the floor, making a huge and horrible sound. The band, since they were entering from stage left, chose this time to come to the stage, and what they walked in on was scene of utter chaos. The board was on the ground and the attached racks were in disarray — with torn cables just hanging freely. A hysterical girl was running away from the scene of disaster and the wives — startled by the commotion of the console crashing to the floor — had all turned toward me at that moment only to see me standing there like a deer caught in the headlights; with my pants down around my ankles and my sails flying at full mast. Now that’s the way to end a tour!”
