Keith Richards has lived more than a few lifetimes in his 76 years. He’s ingested every substance known to man (and probably a few that aren’t), spent much of the past several decades playing to massive crowds in every corner of the world, and generally done whatever it is that he wants. All of which makes 2020 a very un-Keith kind of year.
“I don't know about you, darling, but I'm just ducking and diving, hunkering down and trying to take care of the folks,” the legendary Rolling Stones guitarist tells me in his jovial, gravelly British lilt. He’s calling from his Connecticut home, where he lives with wife Patti Hansen, plus their two daughters and two dogs (one of whom makes an appearance during our conversation). To pass the time, he’s been writing songs and reading weighty seafaring tales, like the Master and Commander series by Patrick O'Brian and the Danish epic We, the Drowned by Carsten Jensen. Pre-pandemic, the Stones were cutting their next album—“halfway in the works before shit hit the fan”—and in recent months, he’s finally been able to get back to the studio some.
On November 13, Richards is also releasing a reissue of Live at the Hollywood Palladium, a soulful and swaggering show he played with his band the X-Pensive Winos in December 1988. This was 30 years ago, when the Stones were in the midst of a hiatus and he and Mick Jagger were famously on the outs, so Richards found himself the lead singer of a new group. Beyond his musical career, it was a generally pivotal period in his life: He had recently gotten clean from heroin, reunited with his long-estranged father, and settled down with Hansen.
GQ: Two of the three new songs on the reissue are Stones tracks—“Little T&A” and “I Wanna Be Your Man.” How did you and the Winos approach Stones songs? Would you try to do them differently?
Keith Richards: Gabriella. Suddenly, I find myself having to do Mick Jagger's job and mine. I learned an awful lot really quickly about what it is to be the frontman and working with different guys and seeing how they would treat it differently. I've known these guys for years—I mean, the Winos weren't just thrown together. They were nurtured, like good wine.
To me, what was interesting was how they would approach it. They gave me so many new insights. Sometimes you can be deaf to things, or blind, so to get their take on these songs—I was open for business. At the same time, I'm learning how to sing and play guitar throughout a whole show, which took me a little while. But I enjoyed it so much, and with such a great band. So versatile, the Winos. With the Stones we pretty much...you do that, you play that, you play that. With the Winos I could turn around, and three different guys can play drums.
What's the main difference to you between a solo Keith song and a Stones song?
I suppose I do write for Mick's voice to a certain extent, because I had never thought about writing outside of the Rolling Stones. I mean, one great band is enough.
But it was all a learning process for me, which I enjoyed immensely. And I think whatever Mick did in that period of time, those three or four years that we didn't do anything together, we got a fresh look at it. Maybe that was the whole point of us doing other things. I, personally, had no intention of doing anything outside of the Stones until 1986, when Mick decided he wanted to make movies. Hey, we both needed a break. I mean, I'm not going to put it on one guy or the other. We've been doing the Stones for a long time, and everybody wanted to spread their wings a bit, I guess. Except Mick wanted to do it before I did.
I want to go back to that period in your life because, as you mentioned, the Stones were off. But it was a fascinating and pivotal period for many reasons: You'd recently gone off heroin, you'd reunited with your father, you became a family man with Patti, you were on the outs with Mick. How do you look back on that time now, 30 years later?
It was just a matter of energy, I suppose. Hey, I got kids and a new band. Why not have a new band? When I think about it, there was a sort of déjà vu feeling of when the Rolling Stones first suddenly and miraculously and unexpectedly became the Rolling Stones. There was this feeling of rejuvenation. I felt it a few times in Jamaica later on, working with other guys. You feel a sort of roll of energy going amongst guys that you can't quite put your finger on, but I'm glad I'm here and I want to take part in this.
What has your day-to-day been like this year? How are you spending your time at home?
Well, I take the mask off. It's all a bit strange this year. It’s a unique situation, isn't it, for us all. No matter who you are. And I'm just doing my best and writing some songs, because I do that anyway. That sort of happens without even trying. Not that they're any good, but, you know, it's what you do.
How are you killing the time otherwise?
I did do a session with [X-Pensive Winos drummer] Steve Jordan, two or three weeks ago in the city. Still working on the Stones album, which was halfway in the works before shit hit the fan. I was trying to progress a few things along, but there's not a lot one can really do except wait for the vaccine.
Has the pandemic changed the process of how you and Mick write songs? Do you send ideas or lines back and forth, or full songs? What's that process like?
I listen to other people. Most songs are written by being observant and just hearing what somebody else says. And it might be taken totally out of context as a certain phrase. I think I got “Satisfaction” out of a totally innocuous conversation with somebody else. I didn't hear that word a lot. You become susceptible to the way people react to each other. The tough thing about being a songwriter is, once you start, you can't stop, even if they're lousy songs.
Speaking of “Satisfaction,” that riff famously came to you in the middle of the night. Do you still get song ideas in your dreams?
How I wish. That was the most superb, lucky song ever. No, I've never quite dreamt up another one in the middle of the night. But that was very early days for me writing, and just the idea that that could actually happen was incredible. I'm still waiting for the next dream, you know.
Many people have been comparing the year 2020 to 1968, and the Stones were very much at the center of 1968 culturally. What’s your most vivid memory from that year?
Hmm, ’68. Yeah. I was so embroiled in recording, writing songs. I mean, in ’68 I was only grabbing little bits of what was going on around, because things were changing incredibly in ’68.
I guess I picked up on a bit. I was also, unfortunately, going into my blue period, which took me 10 years to get out of. I remember that I wrote “Gimme Shelter” and I was just writing, writing, writing, and recording. Also, I was with Anita Pallenberg; it was our first year together. Really, when it comes to it, I was just overworked and overloved.
What do you miss most about going on tour and playing live?
I just miss it because it's almost like a physical need. Your body kind of expects it, once you go out there on the road and make contact with everybody. And for this year, having it cut off is kind of weird, which is probably why I'm talking too much.
Does the band have any plans for the 60th anniversary, which is coming up in a few years?
Well, the plans are to still actually all be alive. Apart from that, at our age, I don't know. I haven't heard of any plans, but I'm sure there are things being made. First off, I'm going to get through this year and see how we handle next year. Because I think at the moment, there are more problems than a Rolling Stones celebration. Although I'm very glad that we're all here, but I'll leave it at that if I can.
What have you been listening to during the pandemic? Have you rediscovered anything?
I do tend to listen to what I tend to listen to. I still listen to a lot of Otis Redding and a lot of Mozart. I listen to a lot of country blues still. It still hits me as being the essence of things somehow, and I can't quite put my finger on it. Otherwise, new stuff...I know there are those of great talent out there. I don't know why I'm not hearing it. To me, records are sounding synthesized. It's all too manufactured for me at the moment. Even drum beats, where the guys do them on pianos.
So are there any contemporary or modern artists whom you've enjoyed recently?
There are some brothers from Australia that I liked very much. Very soulful stuff. But I really couldn't put my finger on anybody and say, “This guy's fantastic” or “You should hear this.” I really think we are a bit oversaturated with so-called music at the moment.
What’s your favorite album made by someone in their 70s?
I'm sure Louis Armstrong made a couple. Muddy Waters. Basically, I'm a very roots man. I don't know who else has made 70 and still works, except me. I don't know what age people were when they did things, that's my problem. I don't even know quite honestly how old I am. It goes on and on.
What’s your pandemic style been like?
Very comfortable garments. Very casual. I don't dress up.
So Keith Richards is wearing sweatpants at home?
I call them comfies. Yeah. Very baggy, soft things. And some Uggy boots.
Some ugly boots?
Uggies, you know.
Oh, Uggs, yeah.
The peasant-looking things.
Great description. So what’s your favorite Stones album?
Always hard to pick favorites. I would go anywhere between Beggars Banquet, Sticky Fingers, Let It Bleed, Exile on Main St. And I will go also to Bridges to Babylon, which is, I think, much underrated. But I mean, that's when we were hitting our stuff and it was easy because we were working at home, we were still not thrown out of the country and having to duck and dive. So it was easier to work then because we weren't exiles. But in actual fact, I really hate to pick out favorite things because they've all got something on them that is special to me. Quite honestly I love them all, some a little more than others. I think Steel Wheels was damn good, and Voodoo Lounge too. But then, there's so many. I mean, I can't do that. I'll stick with my original: Sticky Fingers, Beggars Banquet, and Exile on Main Street. I'll cut it down for you. Exile on Main Street.
What's the state of the Stones album you're working on now? You said it was halfway along before the pandemic hit?
“Living in a Ghost Town,” which sort of epitomized the first wave of the virus, that was actually a part of what we were cutting. But it just was so glaringly obvious that it needed to come out when it did; we rush released it. But otherwise, yeah, we're halfway through, but sort of at the moment, like everybody else, we're stuck.
Mmm-hmm.
I've got a dog here who's barking. Excuse me for a moment. [In the background: Stop it. Come on, girl. Yes, who's my girl?]
I'm sorry about that.
All good, I’m surprised mine didn’t start barking during the interview.
I think it must be dinnertime or something.
What's your dog's name?
This one's called Sugar. We've got two. The other one's called Honey. How imaginative, huh?
They must enjoy having you home all day.
Yeah. Yeah, they are. Yeah. And getting a little too fat maybe.
My last question is: People have been wondering in interviews when you're going to die for the past 50 years. How satisfying is it to still be here?
Every day is a pleasure. I mean, I don't wish to defy anybody's predictions, and I'm really not interested in them. But I'll croak when I croak, and everybody will know.
This interview has been edited and condensed.
