Amazon.com Review
Of his own choosing, Bill Wyman's career as a founding member of the Rolling Stones has achieved a perspective that his legendary bandmates don't yet enjoy: a beginning, middle, and end. Indeed, the musicians once hailed as the greatest rock & roll band in the world have become more like the band that wouldn't die. But history can't be denied, and the man born William Perks of Lower Sydenham, London, has lovingly assembled this over-500-page book, equal parts memoir and lavishly illustrated coffee-table tome, with a winning mix of clear-eyed reportage (based on his own voluminous diaries) and an eye for colorful detail and ephemera worthy of a proud family scrapbook. Which, in many ways,
Rolling with the Stones most resembles: family--and musical--trees are acknowledged, career moves dissected, deaths mourned, and triumphs and foibles alike are dispensed with equal candor. Wyman deflates the myth of the Stones as rock's preternatural bad boys (a conservative, sensationalist press made it all too easy to live down to expectations) yet allows the tragic legend of band founder Brian Jones to assume its proper perspective. A half-decade older than his bandmates, the retired Stone has few illusions about the band's true cultural impact and creative arc, devoting nearly three-quarters of the book to the Stones' first, turbulent decade. What is more gratifying is that he avoids the myopic constraints of the similarly sized
Beatles Anthology, generously weaving the recollections of band members, associates, family, reporters, and even fan letters into a narrative whose outline is epic, but whose viewpoint has a decidedly human scale.
--Jerry McCulley
From Publishers Weekly
Wyman's obsession makes for a Rolling Stones fan's delight. While this tome has the visual treats of a coffee-table book, categorizing it as such betrays the rich text within. The Stones' bassist for nearly four decades, Wyman appears to have ruined it for all Stones biographers past, present and future. A tireless collector, he offers rare photographs and letters, press clippings, tour posters and record sleeves. And thanks to either reams of diaries or marvelous powers of recall unaffected by decades spent in a hard-partying rock band, he provides copious historical and observational data as well. Wyman, teaming up again with Havers (Bill Wyman's Blues Odyssey), gives even short-tenured band mates commensurate face time and portrays the good times, like the band's first visit to America in 1964, and the bad, such as the time Wyman went out to score heroin for a sick-and recently busted-Keith Richards in 1977. Among the memorable photographs are a fit and trim Richards in swimwear on a 1968 Australia tour and a three-shot sequence of Mick Jagger, Jerry Hall and a paparazzo, during which Jagger confronts the shutterbug and ends up on his back on the sidewalk. Wyman shows humility and humor by including his quote from '67: "It's alright leaping about the stage when you're 20, but when you get to 25 or 26 it gets a bit embarrassing." It's too bad the book stops in 1990, when Wyman, well past the age of embarrassment, stopped touring with the band.
Copyright 2002 Reed Business Information, Inc.
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