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| Gimme Shelter |
Got this from the Sticky Fingers Journal:
The beat goes (40 years) on
By HARRY De JONG
Special to The Japan Times
Rolling Stones drummer Charlie Watts, 61, has sunk into a deep leather
chair in a huge hotel room in Toronto. In the corner hundreds of jazz CDs
cover the walls. The table is strewn with old snapshots.
Watts coughs and straightens his brown jacket.
Charlie Watts on the "Forty Licks" tour (in Toronto in November 2002)
The skinny, gray-haired drummer follows my glance across to the room to a
piano near a window. Sunbeams manage to break through half-drawn curtains
and illuminate the piano, as well as dust particles circling above it.
Watts chuckles a bit and visibly relaxes. "Yeah man, I have been in this
room for
some five weeks now. So I am allowed to have a few things here to make me
feel at home don't you think." Music is playing on a radio in another corner
of the room. "This channel airs jazz all day," Watts says while getting
up to turn the volume down a bit. "I never turn it off."
This interview takes place some time before the kickoff of the "Forty
Licks" tour. Charlie Watts and his buddies -- Mick Jagger, Keith Richards
and Ron Wood -- have come to Toronto for rehearsals. There is a little
theater within a stone's throw of the hotel, where the band have been
fiddling with their repertoire for the last five weeks. The Stones' tour
follows the release of the double CD "Forty Licks," which in
addition to 36 Stones classics also contains four new tracks.
Does Charlie Watts still get the jitters on the eve of a big tour and the
release of a "new" album?
"Ah, come on . . . " he says. "It doesn't affect me at all. A tour like
this is a repetition of what I have been doing for the last 40 years. For
me there is nothing new as far as The Rolling Stones are
concerned. Well, there is a minor flow of adrenaline going through my
veins, but that's about
it. I have been part of too many tours to even experience the slightest bit
of adventure. Every night the same show for different people, that is all.
Pure routine."
So you're behind your drums blase and bored?
Well no, that's not the way it is. Forty years ago, I did my best and I
still do. How can I say . . . I am a down-to-earth person and as a part of
the show I know exactly where my place is. I am just not a guy who "gives
himself completely" musically, so to speak. I am a musician who performs
songs as part of a band.
And one who still finds that satisfying?
Yes, that's the most important part and that is why I am still with The
Rolling Stones. I am happy with it -- although the group has never played
the kind of music I am really interested in. For as long as I can
remember I have been into jazz.
Where does that enthusiasm for jazz come from? Your father?
No, I have discovered it all by myself. Jazz was very fashionable in
England in the late '50s and early '60s. I started buying records and
became a regular visitor of London's jazz clubs.
What is so appealing for you in jazz?
The people who played it. My heart started pounding when I first heard
Charlie Parker play. Of all jazz musicians, he was the one that impressed
me most. When I was about 13 I dreamed of playing with
him."
It must be a strange feeling that there are now people who dream of playing
with you, a Rolling Stone?
Yes, but I am good at putting it into perspective. Ultimately I lead a life
that is not that different from anyone's. I have always remained an
ordinary person. People often imagine all kinds of things about
me and the other Rolling Stones. They have this dream image of us. And you
have a hard
time convincing them that this image is far from the truth.
I would like to get to that in a minute. Let's go back to your childhood:
What kind of kid where you?
An ordinary schoolboy. I played cricket with my friends and wanted to be a
drummer. All the other kids I knew wanted to play an instrument as well.
The boy next door could play the bass, a little bit. I
dreamed of a great future as a musician, but deep in my heart I was
realistic enough to know that
that could be a very difficult path, that I probably wouldn't make it. That
is why I saw music as a hobby. It only became a bit more serious when I met
a man by the name of Alexis Korner, a blues musician.
You know that I hadn't even heard about blues up until then? A name like
Muddy Waters didn't
mean a thing to me. Alexis taught me what blues is -- or what we white
people think it is. Then I found out that Charlie Parker played some blues
as well, but in a very intellectual way. Anyway, Alexis Korner wanted to
start a new -- what he called an R&B band -- and asked me to be the
drummer. That
group became popular rapidly and we played the best clubs in London. There
I met Mick Jagger, Brian Jones and Keith Richards. And the rest is history.
Would you've preferred the Stones to be a jazz band?
No, that is not how I saw it. I was a drummer and I played with musicians
who asked me to play with them. That is how simply I saw it. When I became
part of the Stones I played in some other bands as
well, but they were soon out of work. One of them I started with Ronnie
Wood's brothers -- we
called ourselves The Woods band, or something like that. The other was a
jazz band; I can't remember the name. I was 22 years old, had a job as a
graphic designer and played in three different bands. So I was doing OK.
And I learned something too, because Mick, Brian and Keith turned up with Jimmy
Reed, Chuck Berry and Bo Diddley music books. Names I wasn't familiar with,
but good music to play.
When the Stones had their breakthrough, did you feel that you found your
niche? That this was "your" life?
No, I never felt that way. I was looking ahead all the time. Like, "Just a
few more years, then this is all over." Most bands I played in up until
then, didn't exist for more than six months or a year tops. For example,
that band with Alexis Korner didn't last for more than nine months. It was
my experience that every band eventually would wind up without work and
that would be the end of it. But after a while I learned that things were a
bit different with the Stones: The more we played, the
more work we got and the more popular we became. But still I thought we
wouldn't last for more
than three years. And after those three years I thought, "If we continue
for another three years then we should be lucky." And today I still feel
the same [laughs].
So you just rolled through life, and everything fell into place?
You could see it like that, yes. I have never been very ambitious. If
the Stones would call it quits, I would say, "Thanks, we've had a good
time." I don't have a problem with it. Those were good years, no more than
that. I have never showed off the fact that I am with The Rolling Stones.
To be honest, I have never been interested at all about being in newspapers
or magazines. That has been the case ever since the beginning.
Self-promotion is a dirty word for me. I haven't given interviews for years
because I don't see the point of talking about myself.
You just said that you had some good years with the Stones. But there
obviously have been some very low points, like Brian Jones's death in July
1969. He was a good friend of yours?
Yes, we got along very well. And not everyone could say that. If he wanted
he could be very pleasant, but sometimes . . . It was a shock when he died,
but you didn't need special powers to see how it would end. Physically he
always was a weak boy and still he continuously abused himself. He often
was not capable of finishing tours . . . During tours he became a physical
wreck. And that for a young man in his 20s, who was supposed to be at the
height of his powers. Look, when you are 40 and you
use drugs and drink to excess, then you can expect to collapse halfway
through an exhausting tour.
Brian was just very sick, even when he was not drinking or using drugs. He
was very fragile and was suffering from asthma terribly. But he refused to
even try to do something about his health and just kept drinking and using
drugs. He had a very self-destructive nature. There are more people like
this. They try to lure others into death and if they don't succeed they
eventually destroy themselves. Brian was that kind of person.
Did Brian Jones's death change your life back then?
No, not at all. I was just too young to learn from it. If something like
that would happen now, it would have a lasting impact on me. I know that
for sure. But I couldn't see Brian's death as a warning
for my own way of life, because I wasn't nearly as wild. I drank and used
drugs, but not nearly to the extent Brian did.
You emphasize that you have always remained an ordinary guy, but it must
have been difficult to keep your feet firmly on the ground.
If you weren't careful you'd be floating, absolutely. But I think that
because of my down-to-earth nature I had a lucky escape. Maybe it did
change me somehow . . . I don't know. Because you're in this strange world,
especially when you have reached a level of success. People think for you,
talk for you, everything for you . . .
And then there are all these groupies . . .
Take it from me that most of those stories are just fantasies. If you want
to believe all that nonsense about groupies, be my guest. I don't, and I
should know because I live in that world. I never took
what I could have, because I have never been a man who embraces the
lifestyle that is supposed
to be part of rock 'n' roll. Funny, eh? To hear that from a guy who has
been playing with the greatest rock 'n' roll band in the world for all his
life.
OK, let's talk music: Do you have special feelings for songs that appear on
the "Forty Licks" CD? "Gimme Shelter," "Satisfaction," "Paint It Black"
. . . to name but a few.
No. When I look at the songs, I hardly have any
memories. With each song I
can see the studio in which we recorded it, no more
than that. But I haven't
written a single song myself, so they will never be
that close to me. I ran
through them with Keith in his bedroom and then went
to the studio to record
them. So, no good nor bad memories. It would, of
course, be much better if I
could tell you stories about "Ruby Tuesday" coming to
me in a dream when I
was on the beach, while Keith was sitting behind me
and started playing his
guitar as if in a trance. But unfortunately, I cannot
tell you nice Rolling Stones stories like that.
You recorded "Satisfaction" in the United States. What
do you remember of your first visits there.
I thought America was cool. When we first went there,
I only wanted to go to
New York and Chicago. Because of the jazz clubs. I
couldn't care less about
the rest of the States. During our American tours I
have managed to visit
just about all jazz clubs in New York. Most of the
time with our piano
player Ian Stewart, he was completely in line with me
[Stewart died in
1985]. I remember well the first time I visited such a
club -- I think it
was in 1964. A fantastic feeling. Man, what great
artists I heard there. And
in Detroit we saw B.B. King at the Silver Dollar.
Really really good, I'll
always remember that. Well, in those days there were a
lot of people who I loved to see playing.
For someone of your name and reputation it must have
been easy to introduce
yourself and to just jam along?
Oh God no, I couldn't do that. I just wanted to go to
these clubs to listen.
And I still do. I pay an entrance fee just like
everyone else and I sit at a
table and listen. And by the way, I don't consider
myself to be an
outstanding musician. The band I am in is great, but I
am not. No, I just
like going to concerts. Sometimes I have great nights;
sometimes I am bored
to death. Now it sounds like I go out and paint the
town every weekend, but
that is far from the truth. The truth is that I hardly
go out. Apart from
jazz I am not keeping up with latest developments in
music, so the number of
artists I definitely want to see grows smaller and smaller.
If you could do it all again, what would you change?
I most definitely would become a drummer again. And I
would probably want to
be in the Stones as well. Or no, rather in Charlie
Parker's band. Even when
we already were famous, I was still dreaming of that
sometimes. Well, the
Stones were a good alternative.
What have you always considered to be the biggest
disadvantage of life as a musician?
That you are never home. So you really have to know
what you are doing.
Either you remain a bachelor or you must have the
fortune of being with a
woman who is in sync with you and who has patience
with you. Otherwise you
would fall from one conflict into the other. I have
always had the fortune
of a solid home base. My wife and I will have been
married for 40 years next
year. We first met on the day I started playing in
Alexis Korner's band,
even before I became a member of the Stones. My wife
has known Mick and
Keith for as long as I have. She is a sensible woman,
she has always kept
well away from the Stones. Mainly because she isn't
interested in the world
surrounding that band. That is why we kept going for
as long as we have, I
guess. But through the years I have grown accustomed
to returning home whenever it was possible during tours.
That is why I thoroughly enjoy performing in London,
because I can just go home afterward.
What do you do when you're at home?
Come to think of it . . . I do nothing at all really.
It is wonderful. I enjoy just being there. I hardly watch any television.
I read a book sometimes, but I rarely finish one. It takes me ages
to go through all those pages, because I just cannot concentrate that well
anymore. Keith on the other hand does read a lot. And the biggest whoppers
of books you can imagine. History books, he loves those. No, I couldn't
force myself to read those books.
Do you need company at home?
I am what you would call a loner; I can get along just
fine without
people
around me. We live on a farm, you know. Even worse, we
have two. One in
England and one in France. My wife runs the farm and I
live there, so to
speak. The only people about the house are men and women who are in
agriculture. So there is no rock 'n' roll fuss. Occasionally we go out
and dine with friends, but not too often. I am not like
Ronnie Wood who needs to have people around him all day. If I am honest, I
enjoy the company of dogs more than that of humans. Not that I loathe my
species, but I am of no good to them, they would find me a miserable little man
after a while. Keith doesn't go out at all either. He lives with his wife
in Connecticut and his life isn't all that different from mine. Mick is the
only one who, through the years, has succeeded in dragging me out of the
house, time and again. Occasionally we go out together. When he was still
with Jerry [Hall], we saw each other quite a lot. But after those two
separated,
it has become less and less. But on tour he is still the one I hang
around with most. For
instance, we go to museums together. Through the years
we have developed the same cultural interests.
But you and Mick seem to be opposites.
Well, we are. Mick is a social person and finds it
important to get to know
new people. In that respect, he drags me along.
Because if it was up to
Keith and me, we would never set foot outside our
homes, so to speak.
It doesn't seem much fun as a Rolling Stone. Everybody
wants something from you.
Well, it is not that bad in my case. People recognize
me, but usually leave
me alone. It is a bit different for Mick. For him it
sometimes is a nightmare, the way he is cornered by fans. But he
still goes to the hotel bar downstairs to sit there and enjoy himself. Man, I
would never do that.Just too much hassle.
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| Soul Survivor |
Very good read |
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| TheSavageYoungXyzzy |
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why the band is Charlie Watts and his Rolling Stones.
Damnit, that guy's somethin' else. Arguably the greatest drummer in the history of rock music and he prefers the company of dogs. What a guy.
-tSYX --- But the luuuuve, it's a bitch... |
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