The greatest raconteurs of the twentieth century are, of course, Orson Welles, Keith Richards and Rowdy Roddy Piper. [I rate raconteurs by the accuracy of their Chief Wahoo McDaniel impersonation above all else.] I just found a bookmark of the following video clip from an early '90s Hunter S. Thompson video and thought I'd share:
The stunned, uncomprehending look on Keith's face at 2:18 is truly delicious, like he just discovered his grandmother was really his mother or something.
One of the strangest knock-on effects of Richards releasing LIFE -- which is a good read because of its faults, a curious mix of minute detail and no sense that our author has ever considered the big picture those details make, even now [this might be like expecting a virus to learn its lesson] -- is that he seems to have run out of anecdotes to tell with the relish he used to have. It doesn't seem to be solely an age/health/elder-statesman status issue; compare the above to this 1989 tape. Very strange that a musician content to grind through the same set list of 50-30 year old songs every night now seems bored with talking about his own life in interviews.
Not an interview, just a semi-rare MAIN OFFENDER-era concert of Richards and the X-Pensive Winos. I wouldn't cross a stadium parking lot for free tickets to a Rolling Stones show, but I would stand in line for the chance to pay full retail to see the Winos live. Not stand in line overnight, much less for weeks, but I would make an effort for that band. Respect to any group that can make "Connection" rock and swing hard.