![]() And it became habitual." In a way, he says, it was an addiction, but a relatively safe one. Life could be so dull on the road - a Groundhog Day existence of plane, gig, hotel, plane, gig, hotel. Me and Brian used to look out of the windows, cos we shared a suite, and we would ask the night porter to go out and get the one in the striped thing and the one in the shorts next to her, and they'd come up, and you'd spend a couple of hours with them and say bye and give 'em a kiss, and then about half an hour later you'd say, 'That one in the red dress.'"īlimey, I say, semi-shocked, you must have had some stamina. In Australia, the girls used to stay outside all night long. Yeah, cos you used to have three or four a night sometimes. Then he becomes serious and knuckles down to business. ![]() I tell him that I had read he once slept with 265 women in a three-week period? (Actually, it was a two-year period, but I thought I'd tickle his ego.) "Three weeks?" he laughs, as if the suggestion is absurd. I wasn't, because right from the beginning my marriage was a failure so I had no guilt about fooling around." Hardly at all." Why not? "Mick and Keith were always in their rooms writing songs, and Charlie was faithful to his wife. "Me and Brian." What do you mean? "Well, the others didn't do it. When did you become so shagtastic, Bill? "1963 onwards, really," he answers instantly and po-faced, every inch the archivist. There are some questions that can't be asked delicately, no matter how hard one tries. He was a rubbish husband, mired in an unhappy marriage, so he went off with the Stones and embraced a world of fame and excess. Wyman was married at the time, with a young boy, Stephen. I felt confident, I was proud of the name." He was the best footballer in the camp, he could dribble his way through anything." It's a sweet story, and typically Wyman - typical in that he remembers exactly how much it cost and typical in that he named himself after somebody he idolised. I liked the name Wyman because my best mate in the military was called Lee Whyman. "I did it officially through a solicitor by deed poll in March of 64. After school, he went to work at a diesel engineer's as a clerk he did two years' national service in Germany, and played with a rock'n'roll band for three years before joining the then bluesy Stones. William Perks spent the war years with his grandmother, whom he adored. He was very working class and a very cold person." There was that resentment about me going to a posh school trying to talk posh and wearing a uniform that he had to pay for. At 15, just before O levels, his dad took him out of school. He was one of only three lads in a class of 52 who passed their 11-plus to go to grammar school. He hated the name and the place, thought they both reeked of failure. Wyman grew up William Perks in Penge, south London. While Mick Jagger and Brian Jones came from the upper middle class, he, Watts and Keith Richards were working class. Wyman has often said that he was born to be a librarian. He's still the band's archivist, his collection worth millions. But, of course, to most people he will always be Wyman of the Stones. Since then he has written books about himself and his friend, artist Marc Chagall he has discovered historical coins as an archaeologist, been a restaurateur and a member of the R&B combo the Rhythm Kings. Nowadays, he's a family man - happily monogamous, almost 70 and with three young daughters. Wyman was probably the least well-known band member till he became a front-page news story in the 1980s - partly for sleeping with more women than Willie Nelson and Julio Iglesias could dream of, and largely for sleeping with a girl who was 13 years old when they met. He was the archetypal bass player - still, stony-faced, silent. As a Rolling Stone he and drummer Charlie Watts formed the most reliable rhythm section in the world they never missed a beat. Wyman was always known for his promptness. He's skinny with no bum to speak of, there's a fag in his mouth, a pot of tea by his side and, of course, he's on time. His hair is a weird shade of purply-brown these days. Bill Wyman is sitting alone in the corner of his restaurant Sticky Fingers, patiently waiting, as you might expect.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
Details
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |