“Whatcha reading?” says Spence.
“Life,” says Admin. “The new Keith Richards autobiography.”
“How is it?”
“Way better than I expected. And the parts where he talks – and the whole thing does have a conversational tone – about music are really terrific. The story of him, Brian Jones and Mick Jagger living in a squalid apartment in Chelsea and listening to records of Jimmy Reed, Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf and all those guys 24/7, taking it all apart and putting it back together, living on practically nothing but a love for music, is mesmerizing.”
“And the not so good parts?”
“That would be all the stuff about drugs. It’s tedious. And the beginning – this not very credible or creditable scene of a drug bust in Arkansas in the ’70’s – is really misconceived. Where was the editor? If you’re going to read it, skip right to chapter two, Keith’s boyhood in a crummy town near London.”
“I always liked that song You Got The Silver – Keith sings that?”
“Yeah. It’s amazing how … soul, no other word for it, can overcome the lack of a great voice when it comes to singing.”
“Don’t you try.”
Admin laughs. Spence laughs, too. Hey! They’re getting along.
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