Interview

I wrote about interviewing a dead person. Brian Jones, former band member of the Rolling Stones.

In Today's

    Controlled

                            near-death

Experience I wanted to see how it would feel to be at the juncture of life and death. When I first met Dr. kevorkian I was horrified at his suggestion, But then I realized I would be the only person who could tell the story. The injection put me into a very calm dreamlike state, and soon my fears dissipated, it is true that when you are near death you see light. However it was clear to me that my time on earth was not over. That mysterious space between life and death was fascinating.

I interviewed Brian Jones, whose death remains a mystery, one that made him the very first member of the 27 Club, followed by Joplin, Hendrix, and many other rock stars who
died at age 27.

Jones was asked to leave the band he started in June, 1969. Along with scores of other Rolling Stones fans, I was devastated that I never got to meet him, but I reasoned that since he had quite some time experiencing the state of death, it might be a worthwhile interview. The news media portrayed Brian as a bitter, pessimistic man, strung out on drugs and was fired because of it. I immediately picked up that vibe during his very first words of the interview.

"Let's get something straight right now. Don't, and I mean DO NOT complain about my f’ing attitude.  The personality I am exposing to you, with your little notebook there is me; but my attitude depends upon you."

Having been put on notice, I tried the tack of cajoling, teasing, even begging for information. His responses were "Leave me the f’ alone," or "Just chill out and take a shot of my friend Jack Daniels there. Or two. Or ten." But I persisted, knowing this was a once-in-a-lifetime experience, or deathtime experience, as it were.

I asked Brian why he thought the band evicted him. Wearily, bleary-eyed, he replied,

"I did everything to keep that freakin’ band together. I quit drugs because I wanted that band to be great. They were all I had, and I could see their potential. I created each and every one of their musical styles. I made them what they are, even today, decades later. Hell, fifty years later! That's just a nano-second to me, but to you it's a lifetime. Still, they wanted me out."

"Quite a few joints you have there next to you."

"So?  It's not like I'm going to die or anything. I'm already ahead of the game, Luv."

"Why don't you tell me a little about your former band mates?"

He stubbed out his cigarette, and paused. I felt his demeanor change, and sensed he was ready to open up.

"Sure. Death is always a great career move when you're at the top. Just look at Elvis, Jackson, Prince. But Mick told Rolling Stone magazine that I was jealous of the Jagger/Richards songwriting team. He said I had no talent for songwriting. None. And to quote him 'I've never known a guy with less talent for songwriting.' "

"Tough stuff. How do you feel about that?"

A shadow crossed his face, and he lit a joint in an apparent effort to blunt some painful memories.

"I can't diss Mick about what he said, considering we were still friends. He's no fool; he had to side with the band. They had some weird quirks. Mick's contract required he had salt water taffy and tequila backstage before every concert. I'd like to think that was to try to cut some of the regret he felt. Now Keith Richards was my buddy, even though the s.o.b did pull a knife on me once. I attribute that to what he considered a healthy diet - pouring a bit of orange juice into his morning vodka. Kinda funny really. Imagine two drunk dudes trying to write songs together. But hey, look at 'em now."

"Can you tell me about your music?"

He sighed and seemed to be in deep thought. Silently, he rose, and placed a Rolling Stones album on his record player.  As the first bass notes sounded, he closed his eyes, leaned back in his chair and lit a cigarette.

"Do you feel that?"

"Feel what?"

"The music. That's what gives people hope. Have you ever loved a song so much that it consumes you? Well, pop on some Rolling Stones, light a candle, close your eyes. You'll see your past, present and future all laid out in front of you. Now tell me, Ms. Interviewer of Dead People, what else do you know about me?  Obviously, you've done some research."

"I know that you were replaced with guitarist Mick Taylor. I know there was bad blood between you and the band. I know how you died. You were found..."

"Do you now? You think you know how I died?  Because I can guarantee your information is wrong. I mean, I'm the dead one, aren't I"?

"Well then, why don't you tell me about that?”

"Hmm.  I can't say that Mick and the others caused my depression, but they sure did push me over the edge. By this I do not mean literally, so whatever you're writing down in that little book, watch it."

Aha, finally the truth, and the rock world is still waiting to hear it. He had my full attention. I put down my pen, and looked directly into his eyes.

"I could say that Jagger pushed me into the swimming pool, like the Rolling Stone folks think, but that would be a lie. It was my fault. Drunk, high, I wound up breathless at the bottom of the pool.  I wanted the band, but they didn't need me. Well you know, you can't always get what you want.

“But I did want to write my final story on the back of the album cover. My story was at an end, so I wanted to be too.

"Folks here say there are reasons people commit suicide: they're depressed; they're psychotic; they're impulsive; they have a philosophical desire to die; they've made a mistake.

“I wanted my death to be more than any of that. I was aching for that peaceful abyss that living people think exists beyond.”

At that moment I began to feel my body awaken with life, in the realization that I had a message to deliver.

"Listen, I gave you all this time for a reason… But I guess time is on my side. But if you're going to write anything down, it should be this. You don't need to accept what is. If something sucks in your life, find a way to change it. If you don't, you're going to wind up like me, at the bottom of a swimming pool so to speak."

He raised his drink and winked at me.

"Death may be unfortunate, but it's just a shot away, Babe."

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

A very entertaining story. He was a brave man. Now in some states is legal.
"Death may be unfortunate, but it's just a shot away, Babe."
I liked the above ending. Thank you for sharing the excellent tale.
Coyote

[Jaime S]

I really appreciate your feedback! I'm happy to see that you're familiar with the Rolling Stones! Thanks for you'r time!

[Coyote Poetry]

I'm old. I was lucky enough to be alive with the good song. Today. Playing "War pig". Classic songs are the best and you are welcome.