Lewis Brian Hopkins Jones (28 February 1942 – 3 July 1969) – founder member of the Rolling Stones. This photo was taken about the time the Stones got going in the early Sixties around South London and also when I first saw them playing at The Railway Hotel opposite Richmond Station. Later I went to their gigs at the Crawdaddy in Richmond Rugby Club’s place and also at Eel Pie Island. This was before they’d released any records and still considered themselves a blues band, not then writing any original numbers.
I mentioned all this to Stew Rickard, a rockabilly muso from Newcastle, and he told me he’d been in London at the same time for work and went to Richmond looking for the Rolling Stones. Unfortunately he ran into some local lads who had other ideas (maybe, he suggested) taking offence at the Geordie accent) and threatened violence. Stew tried to get away by slipping into a Chinese restaurant but as he came out the gang set upon him and beat him up. A plate glass window was also smashed in the process and my friend badly cut and bruised. A few days later he returned to Richmond with a big knife and the intention of seriously maiming these lads but despite hours of trailing the streets didn’t come across them again. And he never found the Rolling Stones either!
It’s not really a funny incident but something about Stew’s story telling really made me laugh and inspired a song. I’ve taken poetic licence to give my reluctant hero’s escapade a happy ending – but it’s true that he still plays rockabilly music (melodeon and washboard). In fact I invited him to accompany me on recording the song recently (CD out soon).
LOOKING FOR THE ROLLING STONES
Geordie went down to London, back in sixty three.
Heard the joint was jumping – what a crazy little place to be.
Talk about Chuck Berry, Bo Diddly and Elmore James,
Now there was a rumour, white kids were doing the same.
Chorus:
So he went looking, looking, looking for the Rolling Stones.
Looking, looking, for the genuine Brian Jones.
Heard the name – before the rise to fame,
Went looking for the Rolling Stones.
So Geordie took off for Richmond, wandering round the streets,
Asking loads of questions to everyone he meets.
‘Hey there mate! Who you looking at?’ Some Cockney geezers shout,
‘Go back where you came from or get your Northern teeth knocked out.’
Geordie didn’t want no trouble, ‘Howay man,’ he did say,
Dived into a restaurant – a Chinese take-away,
And just as he was a leaving, all upon his tod,
Gave them lads a pasting, with a saveloy and cod.
But Geordie did not give up now, and in a back street bar,
Found that Little Red Rooster, and a mean old slide guitar.
Jagger says, ‘Why-aye man, do that thing you do.
Can’t get no satisfaction, till I hear those washboard blues.’
So Geordie went back to Tyneside, now he understood,
How to shake his body, along with Johnny Be Good.
He could have made a million, with chicks at his command,
But he’d rather play in Byker, with a rockabilly band.
No more looking…
MB © 2013