Ted Newman Jones memoirs from Nellcote

The house was named & Nellcote; built by a retired Navy Admiral in the 1800’s. I believe he was English. The Stones were in France avoiding English taxes which took nearly 90%. Nellcote was enormous with huge white columns. The ceilings were 12 feet I guess. The basement recording facility they had fabricated had only 6 foot ceilings and very claustrophobic and very hot with no AC. The Big Green Mobile recording truck was outside capturing the sounds of the basement with giant cables laying all over the place. When Keith met me at the train, he was wearing pants, no shirt or shoes. We talked guitar and Keith began to plug in the guitar I had brought. I plugged it in and began to play;Brown Sugar; and Keith grinned just like he did when he saw me get off the train. I did not tell him we had met in 1969 in Alabama and I believe to this day he must’ve remembered that although as many things go with Keith, it was never mentioned. So, he stops me half way through the song with a gentle nod and says it’s not in 6 string, E-tuning like Leo Erickson told me, but in 5 string, G-tuning, and old Delta blues tuning similar to the Banjo, an African instrument. He pulled off the bottom E string and tuned the A down to a G and the high E down to a D. Now we were ready to play “Brown Sugar”; the Stones way, which we did, him on the “Rick”; and me on a telecaster. I was so jazzed I thought I might pop. I had never really played with a pro except Todd and I was almost too shy to do that. This was the highest day of my life so far. Any Rock and Rollers dream would have been to meet the Beatles and The Stones. No matter what the cost. However, I was not a fan/groupie type. I was a technician aching as a craftsman with an artistic bent. In some circles I would be called an Artisan. I find myself more well received when I have viable credentials rather than being an admirer of someone’s art. All of these people possess a certain charisma and people want to be around them in adoration and tend to put them on a pedestal often forgetting they are human too. Keith and I hit it off on a human level right off the bat. It wasn’t taking long to become brotherly. Later on in life I asked Keith if he had any brothers and sisters and he replied, “Not hardly. Why would I be hanging around with an A-hole like you for,” then laughs. After our little jam session we went back upstairs to the dining room with at least a 20 foot long table. At one end we shared a joint and drank Heineken beers. Graham Parsons was there with his little blonde girlfriend in a Chamois Bikini while Anita, Keith’s main squeeze, yelled from the balcony in her sparse bathing attire that it was time to descend to the beach. Keith and I just let the procession amble on by and a Nanny took care of Keith and Anita’s boy Marlon. Later I would observe that Keith hardly went anywhere without Marlon in tow. Our conversation turned as he went in search of his pockets and Anit’s purse to find enough cash to cover this black Rickenbacker beauty of a guitar. I had quoted in dollars and we were in France so all Keith had was Francs, neither of us aware of the exact exchange. He just gave me a pile of red and blue francs with 50E and 100E printed on them. I did not count them as I graciously accepted the pile full knowing Keith piled more on for lack of knowing the rate and the fair price of the instrument and I guess now a delivery fee. It came out to several hundred dollars.