Esquire has a new interview with Keith Richards and it is – wait for it – absolutely charming. I wasn’t expecting that at all. In all honesty, I’ve always been more of a Beatles girl and I know so much more about the Beatles than the Rolling Stones. But Keith Richards has always seemed like a mythical, drugged-out, likely insane figure. And as it turns out, he’s just a nice bloke. He’s too old and too famous to really say anything but the truth and he’s not trying to convince anyone that he’s some legendary figure. Compare this interview to Paul McCartney’s recent Esquire UK interview, and Paul is the one who comes across as still hungry, still searching, still wanting validation. Keith is practically a Buddhist monk at this point. Keith is promoting his new solo album (Crosseyed Heart) and a Netflix documentary (Keith Richards: Under the Influence), so that’s why he sat down with Esquire. Some highlights:

This should be a t-shirt: “I’ve been in every position possible, and I’ve always gotten out of it.”

How he holds up on tour: “I can handle the show. In the ’60s, it was 20 minutes, in and out. Now it’s two hours. I don’t come off as exhausted as I used to ten years ago, because I’ve learned more about how to pace a show. I don’t think about the physical aspects—I just expect it all to work. I’m blessed physically with stamina. The frame’s still holding. I eat the same as I always have. Meat and potatoes, basically, with a nice bit of fish now and again. My wife tries to force more salad down me, but I’d rather take the pill.”

The collective itch of touring: “Once you’re at home, there’s a sort of dislocation—”Where the hell am I? Why ain’t I moving?”—and realizing that you don’t have to for a bit. But I’ve always found with the Stones that it’s a sort of collective itch. Everybody’d bust up after a tour and do whatever it is or go wherever. And then there’ll be some sort of inner itch after a few months—”Shouldn’t we be doing something?” And usually I get the phone call from Mick first, but I’m usually feeling the itch and waiting for the call. You can’t force a frontman to do what he don’t want to do. We have to stroke him. And keep him happy. You need the spark from Mick really to do it.”

The crazy fans in the 1960s: “When you’re on the receiving end of it, it’s quite obvious it’s primal and sexual and beyond any reason. They certainly didn’t come for the music… Especially in those days—there were no PAs. And 3,000 screaming chicks could just wail you out of the whole place. Just looking at the crowd, you could see them dragging the chicks out, sweating, screaming, convulsing. Astonishing, even at that age. At the same time, a whole roomful of chicks yelling at you is not so shabby, either. Because the year before, nobody would look at you. But they talk about us—the Beatles, those chicks wore those guys out. They stopped touring in 1966—they were done already. They were ready to go to India and sh-t.

The Beatles versus The Stones: “No, I understand—the Beatles sounded great when they were the Beatles. But there’s not a lot of roots in that music. I think they got carried away. Why not? If you’re the Beatles in the ’60s, you just get carried away—you forget what it is you wanted to do. You’re starting to do Sgt. Pepper. Some people think it’s a genius album, but I think it’s a mishmash of rubbish, kind of like Satanic Majesties—”Oh, if you can make a load of sh-t, so can we.”

Not everyone wants to dwell on Mount Olympus: “It’s a bit crowded up there. Lots of people trying to get up. You can go bye-bye really easy in this business and think you’re something special or divine or semidivine or something. I’ve seen some guys who snap out of it, or they just go through a phase. But others actually believe that if you’re on TV and magazines are fawning over you, you’re actually special. They usually find out the hard way that they ain’t.”

He’s not a guitar snob: “I mean technically, classically. I ain’t trained that way. I force the thing to do as it’s told… The technical aspects—my horror is doing interviews with Guitar Magazine or something. I’ve got my favorite axes that I do know quite a bit about, but when they start to go, “Is that the Gibson S3?”—I don’t f–king know. It works all right for me.

He hasn’t had a boss since he was expelled from school: “You’re talking to somebody, like Mick, who has never, ever said “Yes, sir” to anybody or obeyed instructions that we didn’t want to. I’ve said yes to many people only because I respect them. But no, I’ve never had a boss. Even my bankers and my lawyers have all gone through the mill. Even royalty go through it—they’re told what to do. I’ve lived a totally free life. They gave me wings.

[From Esquire]

See? He doesn’t want your validation. He’s fine. He’s doing what he loves. He doesn’t have to answer to anyone. He just strokes Mick’s ego every so often and then they’re back on the road. There’s also a really lovely part in the interview where Keith is asked if there’s any iconic performer he really wished he could work with and the answer is basically “no” because he’s already worked with all of the “cats” he loves and respects, like Tom Waits, Merle Haggard, Chuck Berry, Jerry Lee Lewis (Keith calls him Mr. Rock ‘n’ Roll) and Little Richard. I personally love that all of his musical heroes are Americans!

Photos courtesy of Fame/Flynet and WENN.