MUCH REMAINS untold, but at least you got to hear the band play. Following the tour that ended with Altamont, I went to live in England and stayed until, after a certain weekend at Red-lands, I decided that if Keith and I kept dipping into the same bag, there would be no book and we would both be dead.
I spent time with the Stones on later tours, and they were always good, but there never seemed to be so much at stake. There was, though, just as much at stake, but it was harder to see. For one thing, we were never again in the desert, beyond all laws. At later Stones concerts I gave my seats to people like Sir John Gielgud and once to a candidate for vice president of the United States. Guitar players, producers, and women—except for Shirley Watts—came and went, terrible and wonderful things happened, in concert halls, outdoor arenas, nightclubs, jailhouses, courtrooms, bedrooms, as we persisted in our folly.
Hump yo’se’f ter de load en fergit de distress,
En dem w’at stan’s by ter scoff,
Fer de harder de pullin’, de longer de res’,
En de bigger de feed in de troff.
JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS:
“Time Goes by Turns,” Uncle Remus,
His Songs and His Sayings