Leser dieses Blogs wissen es: Die Schweiz war in den 70er Jahren das einzige Land, das den genialen Drögeler Keith Richards nicht rausschmiss. Das hat vielleicht auch damit zu tun, dass er im Wallis Unterschlupf fand. Das war schon immer ein Terrain, das Outlaws gut gesinnt war, siehe die Farinet-Geschichte. Aus dieser Epoche möchte ich hier ein Müsterchen wiedergeben, das Keiths Erzählton schön zeigt:
«These necromantics were given a boost by the story that I went to Switzerland to get my blood changed – perhaps the one thing everybody seems to know about me. OK for Keith, he can just go and have his blood changed and carry on. It's said to have been some transaction with the devil deep under the stones of Zurich, face white as parchment, a kind of vampire attack in reverse and the rosiness returns to his cheeks. But I never changed it! That story comes from the fact that when I was going to Switzerland, to the clinic to clean up, I had to land at Heathrow and change planes. And there's the Street of Shame following me, "Hey, Keith." I said, "Look, shut the fuck up. I'm going to have me blood changed." Boom, that's it. And then off to the plane. After that, it's like it's in the Bible or something. I just said it to fob them off. It's been there ever since.»
Keith Richards: «Life». Verlag Weidenfeld & Nicolson, ca. Fr. 46.–
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