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waugh-bao · 13 days

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I know you don’t really like Mick’s solo output, but what do you think about Keith’s?

I have mixed feelings about it. If I were to rank all of the Stones solo musical ventures, it would definitely be Charlie > Keith > Ronnie > Mick. Which, naturally, was also Keith’s opinion on the matter:

I’ve never been a fan of the Stones covers he did with the Winos, the tempos are always a mess and they drag.

As for the stuff that’s solely his, I think it’s a mixed bag. He’s genuinely very talented as a lyricist and I like the subject matter he tends to focus on, because it’s a lot about complicated and long term/older relationships, which isn’t necessarily a mainstay of mainstream rock. And I also enjoy his voice, he’s not Pavarotti or anything but he knows how to write for his own range and vocal quality.

That said, I feel like the music/band itself tends to be very hit or miss, and I actually tend to prefer the songs where it’s Charley Drayton playing drums instead of Steve, he’s got a lighter touch that suits Keith’s style better. I was at performance the Winos did at the Beacon Theater 2 years ago as part of Love Rocks NYC and for unexplained reasons (what I heard on the grapevine is that Steve and Charley had some kind of falling out related to Charley’s late wife) Charley wasn’t there. The choice of songs for the set kind of sucked and the replacement bass player was no good, but I don’t think that performance is probably representative of what they were like in their heyday in the late ‘80s/mid ‘90s. Still not thrilled with how much money I spent on a ticket for such a mediocre performance. Hozier and Mavis Staples were great, though.

His collaborations with Levon Helm and Tom Waits are both gorgeous and there’s some beautiful covers by him of Mingus and other artists floating around out there. It’s not *really* solo Keith, but for my money his best stuff in that realm will always be the songs he sings solo on the Stones records, particularly “Little T&A” from Tattoo You, “How Can I Stop” from Bridges to Babylon, “Thru and Thru” + “The Worst” from Voodoo Lounge, and “Slipping Away” from Steel Wheels. Also “Alteration Boogie”, even though nobody was ever kind enough to give us an official release.

Ironically, I listen to him most often when I’m exercising, especially running or doing boxing drills with a heavy bag. I will say that I have a special place in my heart for “Hate It When You Leave.” The lyrics are so him, of course, but it used to be a song that was perpetually on my playlist for nighttime runs in London, and I have many fond memories of listening to it while flying through the shittier parts of Shoreditch and Camden Town.

#I give him a pass on using ‘bitch’ as the female referent in so many of his songs #b/c I genuinely don’t think he means anything mysoginistic by it #and I do think if Anita or Patti told him they didn’t like that he wouldn’t do it #also he’s vastly more insulting to men in his songs than women #mick gets called a greedy fame hungry bastard #whereas #even when he’s getting screwed over by a woman he’s weirdly kind of into it #the rolling stones #keith richards #ask response #anonymous #I also love ‘Loosing My Touch’ from Forty Licks #but you can’t stream it #it’s only on YouTube pirated

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frozenjokes · 8 months

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Signing Back In, Apparently - 4

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Everyone heard Grian’s scream.

It was loud, and not the normal, shrill loudness of a scream you were hearing from far away, but loud like it was in your head, or like it was coming from right behind you. Mumbo was talking to Impulse when they both heard it, and he instinctively reached to cover his ears as it pounded through his head. When Mumbo finally opened his eyes, Impulse was looking around, tense and alert.

“What was that?” Impulse breathed, the substance stolen from his voice.

“I don’t..” but before Mumbo could finish, there was another, far more recognizable yell. “Scar.”

Neither ghost said another word before running to the tavern, pushing themselves through the ceiling to get to Scar’s room. Scar hadn’t stopped screaming. Pearl was already inside, face somehow paler than he thought possible for an ethereal form. Mumbo probably looked similarly once he saw Scar’s body. There was blood everywhere , seemingly in impossible places like the walls and ceiling as well as all over the floor, and it looked like most of it was coming from his ears and eyes. Scar himself was seizing- or just shaking maybe- but it was horrifically violent, so much so, Mumbo couldn’t stand to keep looking

That’s when he saw the ouija board. “Oh shit. Where- where is Grian?”

Pearl and Impulse didn’t have time to answer before Oli burst in, let out quite the shriek of his own, and ran the opposite direction, calling for Sausage and Martyn. Clearly, Sausage had already been on his way, pushing past Oli before stopping almost immediately in his tracks once he saw Scar.

“Oh- oh no- Scar! Can you hear me buddy? It’s going to be okay, you’re going to be okay- Martyn! Help me carry him.”

“Got it.” Martyn said, stepping forward beside Sausage. Mumbo hadn’t even seen him come in. Scar’s body relaxed slightly at their touch. Sausage noticed, brightening up and continuing to console Scar as he and Martyn carried him away. Mumbo couldn’t stop staring. He nearly followed them, but a gentle hand on his shoulder kept him still.

“We have to find Grian first. Something bad happened here, obviously. We need to make sure he’s okay.” Impulse’s voice cut through his own turmoil, grounding him.

“He couldn’t have gone very far, let’s check downstairs,” Pearl said, backing out of Scar’s room, but after seeing the stairs crowded with Kestrels, dipped through the floor instead. Impulse waited with Mumbo for a moment before following her, giving him a look that said come whenever you’re ready. Mumbo returned it with a grateful nod, taking the chance to linger a bit longer. His eyes fell back on the ouija board. No, he should go.

When he joined Impulse and Pearl, they were both searching the lounge area, so Mumbo went to the bar to cover more ground. As he drifted past the bottles, he saw glimpses of his own reflection, distorted, but still him. God, he looked terrible.

“Grian? Are you here?” His call was greeted with a throaty meow, and Mumbo turned to see Jellie stretching at his legs. “Aw, did you really sleep through all that? You know, Scar probably needs you right now, he’s in quite the state.” Mumbo bent down to pet her, only to be face to face with something- someone - in the cubby below the bar. Mumbo yelped, falling back onto his butt against the cabinets on the other side. The figure across from him tried to scoot further into the cubby, but it was already as far back as it could go. Mumbo saw scratches in the wood from its claws. Mumbo looked back to its face to see its head (beak, maybe?) open in a fashion that seemed quite gruesome.

“ Are you ?” it parroted back, in a somewhat distorted version of Mumbo’s own voice. When it tried to continue, the only sound that came out was an awful scratching noise, not unlike nails on a chalkboard.

“Oh god- Grian? What happened? Are you okay?”

Impulse and Pearl looked up, both hurrying over.

“Trying to fight. Familiar. Dead,” it was Scar’s voice Grian used this time, the lines of his form starting to shift and distort.

“Grian, I don’t- calm down, I don’t know what’s happening but we can fix this- Scar isn’t here, it’s okay,” Mumbo reached out a hand to touch him, but Grian screeched, rearing back and lashing out with his clawed feet.

“ Calm down ,” Grian hissed, Mumbo’s own voice polluted with vehement poison. Pearl pushed between them, wrapping Grian in a tight hug before he could fight her, as if she might be able to hold his rippling form together. Mumbo found himself shrinking back, halfway through the cabinet wall.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice hardly audible.

“We aren’t going to let anyone hurt you. I promise,” Pearl said, rubbing his back in small circles.

Grian let out a screeching wail, impossibly loud, but collapsed into her, sinking in like water. Pearl looked back to Mumbo and Impulse, deep concern in her eyes. Impulse squeezed into the cubby next to Grian without another word, taking his clawed hand into his own. Mumbo found himself frozen in place. At least it looked like Grian was starting to take a more solid form.

“I think I should go,” he whispered, fingers curling against the tile floor. Grian’s body shifted, and Mumbo couldn’t tell if he was just adjusting, or trying to look at him. He didn’t see any eyes.

“I’m sorry. I promise. Don’t be Scar. Promise,” his voice was a mangled combination of Mumbo’s and Pearl’s, but he continued using Scar's voice, “Play the game smarter. Know better.” Pearl and Impulse gave Mumbo a confused look. Mumbo tried his best to return it.

“Don’t worry about me, Grian. Focus on yourself, I’ll be back soon. I promise not to do anything.. extreme. I just need to know what happened.”

Grian responded with a low rumbling noise, which Mumbo assumed was discontent. Mumbo nodded to Pearl and Impulse, who looked unsure, and left before they could ask him to stay. There wasn’t any room anyway; only so many ghosts could fit in one cubby. That’s what he told himself at least.

Mumbo made his way through the streets of the Kestrel’s island, making a beeline to the infirmary. Scar ended up here quite often, so he and the others often visited to laugh at him. But even if he hadn’t known where to go, it would have been easy to follow the chorus of voices erupting from the tent.

“You guys are just overreacting, I feel greaaaat!” Scar said, words ever so slightly slurred.

“You feel good because of the drugs, Scar. You’re a complete mess, otherwise. What the hell did you do to piss off your ghosts, that bad ?” Martyn countered, but Scar didn’t seem all too concerned.

“Ghosts. You’re obsessed with ghosts, Martyn. You’re all obsessed with ghosts. There’s no ghosts. I just had a leetle seizure, that’s all. Happens to the best of us. Howabout I go back to my room now.”

“Scar, people definitely don’t just start bleeding out of every hole in their face randomly. Hey- come on- stop trying to get up.”

Mumbo turned the corner to see Sausage struggle to keep Scar in his cot while Martyn stepped forward to help him. Scar’s eyes were covered with bandages, slightly bloodied.

“I’ll stop getting up when you stop talking about ghosts!” Scar put a hand on Martyn’s face, earning a muffled yelp.

“You know what, fine, he’s being impossible right now, so let’s just let him go back. I don’t want to deal with it,” Martyn scowled, prying Scar’s hand off his face.

“He can’t see and he can barely walk, I really don’t think it’s a good idea to leave him alone. Do you think the guy Oli called to clean is done yet?”

“Probably not. It’s fine. I’m not squeamish, I’ll just put him to bed and mop the floor real fast. In the morning, Oli’s guy can do the rest.”

Sausage made a face, giving Scar a concerned look, “I guess I won’t stop you. You wouldn’t catch me getting my hands dirty like that, no thank you. You and Scar still have that attitude about you I suppose.”

“I’ll clean it myself, don't worryaboutit,” Scar threw his arms in the air, and Martyn rolled his eyes, going to pick him up. Scar giggled as he was lifted into the air, cheering Martyn’s name.

“You owe me,” Martyn grunted, carrying him away. Scar made train noises as they went. There he was, still smiling. Still grinning, despite what must have been a horrific experience that had happened less than thirty minutes before. And sure, Scar was high as a kite, but Mumbo was sure nothing would have changed without the drugs. It was so like Scar to refuse help. To smile, and make everything harder for everyone else.

“What the hell are you afraid of?”

No one heard Mumbo speak. Of course they didn’t. But saying it outloud cemented something inside him; a deep anger, maybe even an insecurity. It didn’t matter. He had to know. Scar couldn’t die before he found out.

So he followed them. He watched Martyn argue with Oli about a mop, (“What kind of establishment doesn’t own a mop?!” “Why do you care about it getting dirty?? That’s what it’s for !”) he watched Sausage tuck Scar so tightly into bed, he couldn’t move, and he watched Scar talk endlessly for at least a half hour, saying nothing at all. And then, finally, the lights went out. Finally, Scar dropped his smile.

“I’m just gonna say one thing, Mumbo Jumbo,” Scar slurred, making Mumbo jump. “Augh. You probably just made such a silly face and I missed it. I hope you’re there. My back hurts so I’m assuming you’re there. Lemme get this stupid things off.” Scar struggled with his sheets, wriggling until he freed his arms. Mumbo stared. He wasn’t really sure what else to do. Scar pulled at the bandages at his eyes, and Mumbo cringed away when he saw them. Even Scar’s good eye looked awful; red and irritated, but the other half of his face looked gunky and horrid.

“You should put that back on,” Mumbo said, not that Scar could hear him. Honestly, he wasn’t sure if Scar could ever see him.

“Got you.” Scar pointed, a goofy smile falling across his face. Genuine. Mumbo didn’t like the way that felt. “Wow you’re blurry. Are you talking? We can talk. Wanna talk? I wanna talk. Oh! I remember. The thing I had to tell you.”

Mumbo made wide circles with his hand, hoping Scar would get the message to spit it out already.

“Are you ready? It’s important, you better be listening.”

“Go on.”

“…Grian started it.”

Mumbo groaned, turning around to leave. This wasn’t going to go anywhere.

“Hey! No no! Don’t go! Don’t you want to hear about it? I GHOST PUNCHED him. It was INCREDIBLE. I was like, yeah, I shouldn’t do this, but it would be really funny if I ghost punched Grian. And then I did and it was SO COOL. Grian did not think it was that cool. I may have provoked him a little bit, but trust me, he deserved it. Where are you going!”

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