Here is my favourite Charlie Watts story, possibly apocryphal. In the freezing cold winter of 1962-63, both Watts and the bassist Bill Wyman joined the Rolling Stones. The three senior members – Mick Jagger, Keith Richards and Brian Jones – thought it would be a good idea if the pair went out for an evening to make sure there was chemistry in their new rhythm section. Watts suggested a Chinese restaurant; Wyman said he had never eaten Chinese food before. When they sat down to eat their chicken and sweetcorn soup starter, Wyman picked up his fluted ceramic spoon as he usually would. Watts whispered, “Oh no, don’t drink it like that,” and told Wyman that the Chinese way was to put the soup on the spoon, then pour it down the fluted handle and into your mouth. “Thanks,” laughed Wyman, “I nearly made a right fool of myself.” Even before starting their meal, Watts had coolly got the measure of his new bandmate.
Over the years, the Rolling Stones drummer, who died at the age of 80 on 24 August, may well have gently taken the rise out of Jagger, Jones and Richards – each with egos big enough to think that the Stones was their band – without them even noticing. Drumming for the Stones was not his dream job, so he could detach himself. He could do things to amuse himself.
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