July 3, 1999
BRIAN JONES — AN APPRECIATION.
I’m sure that it’s in the news and on the radios and TVs out in the world, but inthe quiet seclusion of this room, I’m reflecting on this day 30 years ago.
I remember it vividly. Brian Jones died on a Thursday but we didn’t hear about
it until Friday night. I was with my best friend Ralph (who I named my 1st cat
after, even though the cat was female.)I don’t remember whether it was word of mouth or newspaper-I think theformer, but when we found out, Ralph and I looked at each other and felt
instantly sick. I can recall Ralph’s exact words: “Oh my God, Jonesy’s dead.”
Man, it hit us hard, like a sucker punch to the gut.
It seems that it really was the first major death in rock and roll (I can always
check this in 2 sites that list musician’s passings, and I will.)
I know Otis Redding died in a plane crash, along with members of his roadband The Bar-Kays, in Dec. of 67, but he wasn’t really a rock and roller and it
didn’t really hit me then.
Before them was another plane crash that took the lives of Buddy, Richie, andthe Big Bopper. And there was Eddie Cochran and Bobby Fuller, but the ”Big 3”
were just names, don’t know when I heard of ’em , let alone heard their music.
Cochran was obscure to me, and Fuller was just a guy with one great hit
record.
I’m talking how we felt then, not the revisionist history that puts all theseother deaths in their rightful perspective and adds the proper weight of loss.
Brian Jones passing was a landmark. The first of what would be a hideously
long list of deaths. In fact-checking the RnR death sites, I see Morrison died 2years to the day after Brian. And of course, in between, there was Jimi andJanis, and right before Jimi, Alan Wilson of Canned Heat who’s death also
shocked and saddened me, (I was a huge Canned Heat fan,) and afterMorrison, Duane Allman and all the others.
But it all starts with Brian Jones, who we had no idea was no longer a Rolling
Stone.
According to more than a few accounts he was the most selfish cruel bastard
AND the kindest most thoughtful person rolled into one. Like all of us, he had
the angel and the devil in him, but in what seems like greater extremes.

As a musician he seemed to be able to take ANY instrument and make somesmall bit of beauty emanate from it. As a multi-instrumentalist, he was one ofRock’s 1st multi-hyphenates.
He started the Stones, was their leader. He named them, hustled for theirgigs, made the girls scream and cry, and, as the years went by, became
increasingly less important. They say as soon as Jagger and Richard co-wrote
their first song, the balance of power shifted, until finally, Brian became
dispensable.
To most of us the Stones WERE and are Mick and Keith, first and foremost,and then there are the other three.
But listen to the songs. They tell the real story. J&R may have written them,but it was Brian who added most of the colors and textures, the subtle-toobvious touches that really gave them new dimensions and dynamics. The
recorder on Ruby Tuesday. The dulcimer on Lady Jane. The slashing slide
work on I wanna be your man and Little Red Rooster, which Brian claimed was
his very favorite Stones record. And dozens of other examples like the songs
with his stellar harmonica playing. Listen to the Stones very first 45-a cover ofChuck Berry’s Come on. The hook is provided by Brian’s harp.
And the list goes on: various keyboards (piano, organ, vibes, marimba,harpsichord, mellotron). And sitar, flute, autoharp, electronics, saxophone(Brian is the only Stone to play on a Beatles record. He plays sax on their bside You know my name look up the number. As well as various percussion.
etc.
He was also one of the first rockers to be into world music, decades before
any of us knew what that was, or it became fashionable or the term was evencoined. He loved Morocco and kept returning there. He was enchanted by themusic and recorded the Master Musicians of Joujouka. An LP called Brian
Jones Presents the Pipes of Pan came out after his death, the first release on
the vanity label, Rolling Stones records.
On a non-musical note, they say he was the first man in the western world towear costume-jewelry. He wore clothes and vivid colors that were more often
found on women. In fact, lots of them were from his various girlfriends’
collections that melded with his. And he was beautiful. Utterly photogenic.
Many bands would have their blonde Brian look-a-like and some of them wereactually hired because they looked like Brian.

He didn’t live to know about the Woodstock festival which took place themonth after his passing. And he didn’t know about the crash and burn of the60s, which was grotesquely typified by the Summer of Manson and the Winterof Altamont. He was spared the horror of being the helpless witness of theAltamont Festival. The other Stones weren’t so lucky.
But he did know about the Monterey festival in the “Summer of Love.” He wasthere in the flesh with Nico and captured for posterity on film. He is seen
walking around like some exotic Prince with his multi-colored flowing robes
and jewelry and beatific (no doubt drug-inspired) smile. And he would
introduce Jimi Hendrix.
He was a small sturdy man but at the same time too fragile to linger for too
long in this world. The series of drug busts that began in 1967, when theestablishment got back at the impudence of youth by targeting the Stones, hit
him hardest and devastated him. Many say it was the beginning of the decline.
The intensifying of the paranoia that had its realities, but more its delusions.
In pictures of this period, he starts to look haggard and world-weary. A man
starting to lose his grip.
I forgot to play any of Brian’s music on my last show, so I’ll catch up and play
him on the next one.
And I’ll listen to the music again, and again, and remember this musician who
was utterly unique and influential and whose many talents made the world abetter place-certainly a more beautiful one sonically.
And I’ll still fell a twinge, an echo of the pain and sense of loss that my bestfriend Ralph and I felt on that night thirty years ago today. The loss of
someone who we never met, but whose time on earth, although too short,
touched us deeply.
–Bob Brainen