What would Keith Richards do_ - Jessica Pallington West [13]
Give it a test run at a department store. You’ll be surprised how effective it is.
How to do it? First, channel your inner Keith. Then look at the subject slowly and straight-on. Move slowly, keep up the stare, and say little. While one of the most potent weapons in life may be music, so is its twin: silence. Don’t get rattled. No long, extravagant excuses are necessary. As Thomas Jefferson said, “Nothing gives one person so much advantage over another as to remain always cool and unruffled under all circumstances."
II. NOT LETTING THE TURKEYS GET YOU DOWN AND KEEPING YOUR HEAD ABOUT YOU EVEN WHEN ALL OTHERS ARE LOSING THEIRS AND BLAMING YOUR ASS FOR EVERY DAMN THING
Even if you’ve done your part in working within the construct that is the band, and you’ve kept in mind and worked with the higher power that is the Rolling Stones, there are still going to be slipups. Why? Other people.
Things just, well … go wrong. It’s just another damn law of nature.
Groups inevitably start falling apart. And what happens? Someone inevitably becomes the scapegoat. It’s okay when it’s someone else. But what do you do when the scapegoat is you? In a way, you can congratulate yourself: You’ve achieved Keith status. As Keith has said about himself time and again, “Whatever side I take, I know well that I will be blamed."
Take your pick of the subject: the declining morals of society. Pot-smoking teenagers. Nice girls turned tarts. Accidents on highways. Parties gone out of control. Capsized boats.
Keith’s fault, Keith’s fault, Keith’s fault.
Getting blamed can be a compliment—it means you’ve got some influence. You’ve got to have some power in you to be awarded blame. In ancient Greece, people blamed the gods.
Scapegoating can happen in any number of situations.
You’re blamed on the job and you’re let go. You’re running for public office, something goes wrong, and boom, you’re the bad guy and out five thousand votes. Your marriage falls apart, you go before the judge, and his robed finger points at you as the gavel goes down. The dog dies: “It’s your fault.” The company goes bankrupt: “Why did you do this to us?"
Compliment or annoyance or downright soul crusher, you still have to know that blame is just a reflection of the finger that is pointing. And if they’re going to blame you, rather than ruffling up in defense, make it work for you. See the experience as something to learn from.
WHAT WOULD KEITH DO?
“Who do you want to lay it on? Do you want to blame somebody, or do you want to learn from it? Altamont, it could only happen to the Stones, man. Let’s face it—it wouldn’t happen to the Bee Gees.”
Ask yourself what you can take away from the experience. And then move on.
Don’t look back in the rearview mirror. As one of the Twenty-six Ten Commandments said, experience is the price of an education. Just make sure that you check the receipt and that you don’t buy the same thing again.
And if you feel you really need to give out some blame, use the Keith approach: choose someone who’s not “here” anymore.
A Keith example: When longtime Stones crew member Chuck Magee died of a heart attack, the tragedy happened with typical Keith bad luck—during a concert. Keith turned around after a number and noticed Chuck wasn’t there anymore.
But Keith turned the catastrophe around: “We’ve kept him alive—we blame him for everything that goes wrong."
If you’ve got to blame someone, find a phantom and blame the phantom. It’s easier on everyone. The phantom might even enjoy it.
III. BETRAYAL AND TRUST
We’d all like to believe those wonderful, sugary sentiments—that all people are basically good, that what you put out is what you get back, and that kindness is in the hearts of all, ready to be retrieved with a gold-plated fish hook.
If only.
It’s a nice thought to have in your head, but when you find out it’s not always the case, it feels as if you’ve been thrown off a cliff, or off the balcony of a hotel.
There are all sorts of levels of losing your trust—like finding out