Up And Down With The Rolling Stones is a sort of gossipy, soap opera affair in the vein of I’m With The Band. “Spanish” Tony Sanchez is not much of a writer and, as a result, the whole thing’s a bit tedious. He lapses between tenses in a distracting way and the narrative is so disjointed, it’s hard to take anything from it. SpanTo makes a lot of really bizarre statements as well. Like, “No coke user ever fully comprehends at first a very simple fact – every snort of this beautiful, uplifting drug takes him one step nearer heroin addiction.” Really? Or how about, in reference to the success of a Stones TV special, “The film was never shown in Britain, but it was well received in the rest of Europe, where rock fans are less discriminating.” Huh. Or one about Clapton being the best rock guitarist, whereas I feel fellow Yardbirds guitarists Page and Beck were more successful at taking their roots and influences and creating something new.
It was weird, too, having read several Stones bios, reading those same stories. There was nothing new here, really, except who slept with who and where the drugs came from. And how much they cost. There was a whole lot about the cost of drugs.
What I think is very good about this book is that it doesn’t shy away from the fact that Mick and Keith were arrogant, spoiled, egomaniacal *ssholes and that a great many of the characters involved in this story were little better. The term “monsters” comes to mind. Witness Altamont. I’m a great Stones fan but it’s definitely for the music and has never been about any romanticism over their "decadent, rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle." It’s extraordinary the license celebrity seems to give, but more extraordinary that the “little people” not only tolerate this but encourage it.
I found SpanTo’s coverage of The Rolling Stones Rock ‘N’ Roll Circus to be suspect. He dismisses the stunning performance of “A Quick One” by The Who by saying, “The Who played next, but they were dwarfed by the direct comparison with Lennon’s raw genius.” Okay, yes, the performance by John Lennon, Mitch Mitchell, Eric Clapton and Keith Richards was one of the highlights but they basically played a couple songs. They did it well, sure, but no big deal. The Who played this awesome miniature opera complete with time and tempo changes, musical segues and a great deal of excitement and energy. It’s my opinion but I don’t think Dirty Mac, as Lennon’s band was called, came close. That SpanTo goes on to praise the lackluster performance of The Stones is, to me, the nail in the coffin. That Stones performance sucks. Bad.
Ultimately, it’s all opinion and SpanTo doesn’t shy away from giving his opinion. As a memoir, this book is light on facts and heavy on supposition. It is entertaining enough to read if you’re a Stones fan, however and especially if you like a little dirt. Or a lot.