Brian Jones: Unforgettable Stone

For years I was obsessed with Brian Jones, the founder of one of my many favourite bands The Rolling Stones and multi-instrumentalist genius. Why was I obsessed? Good question.

His appearance immediately captivated me the moment I saw his mop of blonde hair, fuck-you fashion sense and eyebags… I could relate to the eyebags and still do as I myself also has that facial characteristic. Those earlier years on stage and in interviews when he was passionate yet slightly uncertain. I read as many books as I could about his life and untimely death including his full autopsy report which was printed on the reference pages of one book in particular which I can’t remember the title of.

He explored many musical instruments including exotic ones from traveling abroad. His Brian Jones Presents the Pipes of Pan at Joujouka is often cited as one of the first world music albums released in the UK.

Subconsciously I knew there were deep psychological issues which I tuned into. He seemed black and white in his behaviours which I also have a tendency towards. Did he have a personality disorder, depression?

He was a highly intelligent multi instrumentalist who behaved either sensitive and introverted or generally unpleasant. Which I, with Borderline Personality Disorder, completely understood what that type of wildly unstable behaviour can be like and I’m so thankful for my medication and extensive psychological support. Heavy alcohol, drug and prescription medicationuse certainly didn’t help him as he became increasingly difficult and puffy faced. Yet he continued continued to inspire and enchant musically.

There is speculation that he suffered from bipolar disorder alongside his asthma.

The long complex situation with his band The Rolling Stones is out of my depth so I’m not even going there except to say that Jones’ legacy should not continue to be strangely erased from the music scene. More videos are appearing about him, however, and I highly recommend the documentary Rolling Stone: Life and Death of Brian Jones which my husband and I watched on Netflix recently.

The documentary left me reeling with despair at the despicable injustice and reinforcement of the thoughts I’d had about his death since the 90s. So much so that I got dressed and went out a walk to release my pent up emotional energy. It was then that I felt I needed to write something about him. There is no way I can write some mind-blowing poetic dedication however found the poem below whilst scavenging on Google.

Jim Morrison’s poem Ode to L.A. While Thinking of Brian Jones, Deceased was handed out at each of The Doors’ 1969 shows at the Aquarius Theatre on Sunset Boulevard in Hollywood, California, USA. Morrison handed out the poem out to everyone he met and a copy recently sold online for approximately £1,000.

I’m a resident of a city
They’ve just picked me to play
The Prince of Denmark
Poor Ophelia
All those ghosts he never saw
Floating to doom
On an iron candle
Come back, brave warrior
Do the dive
On another channel
Hot buttered pool

Where’s Marrakech
Under the falls
the wild storm
where savages fell out
in late afternoon
monsters of rhythm
You’ve left your
Nothing
to complete w/
Silence
I hope you went out Smiling
Like a child
Into the cool remnant
of a dream
The angel man
w/ Serpents competing
for his palms
& fingers
Finally claimed
This benevolent
Soul

Ophelia
Leaves, sodden
in silk
Chlorine
dream
mad stifled
Witness
The diving board, the plunge
The pool
You were the bleached
Sun
for TV afternoon
horned-toads
maverick of a yellow spot
Look now to where it’s got
You
in meat heaven
w/ the cannibals
& Jews
The gardener
Found

The body, rampant, Floating
Lucky Stiff
What is this green pale stuff
You’re made of
Poke holes in the goddess
Skin
Will he Stink
Carried heavenward
Thru the halls of music
No chance.
Requiem for a heavy
That smile
That porky satyr’s
leer
has leaped upward
into the loam

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