Keith Richard's Life (on drugs)

Keith Richard's memoirs are highly entertaining. One thing is clear: apart from music, there is nothing he likes better than drugs. His consumption is staggering: the carefully controlled doses of smack are mixed with gargantuan cocaine sniffs (the purest stuff, he emphasizes), a huge variety of pills (Tuinals, etc...) liberal doses of Jack Daniels, the whole taking place in a huge cloud of hash and spiff, not counting of course the cigarettes always dangling from his mouth and the occasional acid trip. How is this man alive? The music kept him going, the huge high of being on stage and playing these deeply satisfying, addictive, riffs which he describes in loving detail. The music: "what you are looking for is where the sounds just melt into one another and you've got that beat behind it, and the rest of it just has to squirm and roll its way through. What you are looking for is power and force - without volume". (Above, the Stones in their prime, blasting their way through Bitch in Australia:) For him "the chicks" come fourth or fifth. Had she not been intent on outdoing Keith on drug taking and outrageous behaviour, he would still be married to Anita Pallenberg, that "tough bitch". The book reads as if Richards just decided to let go and tell his life in a fit of absentmindness, which he now probably (but secretly) regrets.