I just finished reading the rollercoaster ride that is Life, the autobiography of Keith Richards, written with James Fox.

I’ve never been a big Rolling Stones fan. I like their catchy melodies and they used to do a good job covering Chicago blues, but really I’d rather hear Muddy Waters and Chuck Berry. I had heard about Keith Richards’ book, and I heard it was good, but hadn’t paid a lot of attention until Tuffy P started reading it. I hardly talked to her for a week while she was immersed in this thing.

Sun Ra once wrote, “there are worlds they have not told you of” and Richards’ life of wretched excess mixed with musical passion qualifies as one. The book is a page turner. It’s really very very good, and it’s filled with stories that you just can’t make up.

I was particularly fascinated at the approach the Stones took to recording, showing up at the studio with nothing and making up songs as they go. This process is close to the way I approach painting. Don’t plan it. Do it. They find a riff, develop it in the studio. A title, a few lyrics and then fill in the gaps.

Life gets the Anchovy stamp of approval. Read this book.