RIP Charlie Watts

[couch]

The Guardian had some nice reminiscences of Charlie Watts today including some by Max Weinberg, longtime drummer for Bruce Springsteen's E Street Band. This captured something of his spirit, and perhaps that of the LL:

I first met him around 1979 or 1980 – the Stones were playing a couple of nights in Madison Square Garden, and I was tagging along for this interview for Modern Drummer with a friend of mine. He was wearing a three-piece Savile Row suit, just incredibly turned out, and invites us into his hotel room so he can unpack. He had two beautiful leather suitcases on the bed, and he opened them up. Everything was immaculately folded; there was a precise toiletries kit. It was the exact opposite of the way I travel on the road. He took his clothes out of his suitcases, put them on the bed, refolded them, and put them in the drawers. I had never used a drawer in a hotel room in 15 years of being on the road. I thought it was one of the coolest things I’d ever seen. We did this interview, ordered room service, and he realised he had to get picked up to go to the Garden. He went into the bedroom, and came out wearing sweatpants and a sort of ripped T-shirt. He’d looked like an English lord, with this handsome, aristocratic, craggy face, and now he’s so dressed down to go “play with them”, as he said. Not “go play with my band, our band”, it was always “them, the Stones”. There was this funny kind of distance.

[rjman]

Great memory, a complement to the anecdote about him getting carefully showered, shaved and immaculately turned out to go deck Mick for drunkenly calling him early in the morning.

[raykalendek]

Great memory, a complement to the anecdote about him getting carefully showered, shaved and immaculately turned out to go deck Mick for drunkenly calling him early in the morning.

A funny story, RJ…one that’ has endured for 50 years; however, I can’t help but believe that it’s apocryphal, although I’d be peevish were someone to disabuse us. Charlie was a class act. Not unlike Bryan Ferry, he knew what he was about.

[couch]

Charlie was a class act. Not unlike Bryan Ferry, he knew what he was about.

Ah, those art-school crypto-jazzmen . . . .

[loarbmhs]

Twenty-four years ago this November, a former workmate of mine called and said, "What are you doing next Sunday?" I said, "Nothing." He said, "Yes you are. We'll send a limo for you and your wife; you're going to The Rolling Stones concert at Dodger Stadium." (My colleague was an executive at Sprint and they were sponsoring the tour.)

Anyway, not only did we get front-row seats to the concert, but we had a private, pre-concert meet-and-greet with the Stones and 10 other concert goers. We still have the picture of us with the band. The range of garb was wide: from Keith Richards in a shirt unbuttoned to his waist, to Charlie dressed impeccably and understatedly in a pair of white chinos, looking more like he was going to a '50s Ivy League frat party than about to be onstage in front of thousands of fans.

Fast forward about 15 years. I was in NYC to meet A&S's John Hitchcock at the Carlyle Hotel for a fitting. Just before I went upstairs, Charlie came into the hotel, dressed impeccably again, but this time in a very quiet suit. I wisely resisted the temptation to shout, "Loved seeing you in concert 15 years ago." I just tried not to stare and counted myself lucky, being so close to greatness and class.