They say that Mick Jagger was never really that much into drugs, but that’s a lie. He may not have drenched himself in the strychnine bitterness of acid or the scratchy throat brightness of cocaine, but he loved the lifestyle. One hundred percent. Mick Jagger threw drug references around like they were posh names at a social event. Mick Jagger lived in the drug world and surrounded himself with junkies. He exploited the lifestyle for all it was worth. He walked the fine line of pushers by ruthlessly fronting his shit while never getting high on his own supply.
It’s a delicate balance though and Brian Jones couldn’t walk it. He stumbled like a clumsy cat and ended up a pathetic man at the bottom of his pool with a gut full of amphetamines. The band that was his soul went on without missing a beat throwing a huge free show just months after his death–Mick Jagger prancing mockingly in front of a huge poster of Jones’s head.
Things do get better–In a way.
Charlie’s gone back to jazz. No surprise there.
There’s talk of a reunion. It’s a flop. They sold you a little baggie of Crystal Lite! You snort the shit and your nose bleeds for an hour. Now you’re strung out and confused. You got a little off the Black Crows, but it‘s really just cut extra thin with a dash of the Faces thrown in. It burns your throat. Things are getting desperate.