proves

By early 1963, the Station Hotel in London had become an epicenter of the burgeoning British blues scene. On a blustery, snowy night that February, the Rolling Stones’ classic early lineup took the stage for one of the first times, dazzling the audience with ferocious renditions of blues standards like Muddy Waters’ “I Want to Be Loved” and Jimmy Reed’s “Bright Lights, Big City.”

Multi-instrumentalist Brian Jones, the band’s founder and leader, synchronized guitars with Keith Richards, who favored a distinctive slashing and stinging style. Drummer Charlie Watts, the group’s newest member, a jazz aficionado and an accomplished percussionist, propelled the music forward with a rock-solid beat.

Anchoring the rhythm section with him was bassist Bill Wyman, who was recruited more for his spare VOX AC30 amp that the guitarists could plug into than for his musical skills. The stoic bassist proved a strong and innovative player. Together, he and Watts would go on to form one of rock’s most decorated rhythm sections.

Ian Stewart’s energetic boogie-woogie piano style rounded out the sound. Months later, manager Andrew Loog Oldham kicked him out of the band for being “ugly,” although Stewart continued to record, tour and serve as the band’s road manager until his death in 1985.

This April 8, 1964, file photo shows the Rolling Stones during a rehearsal. The members, from left, are Brian Jones, guitar; Bill Wyman, bass; Charlie Watts, drums; Mick Jagger, vocals; and Keith Richards, guitar.

(Associated Press)

Fronting the group was Mick Jagger. Channeling the music like a crazed shaman, Jagger shimmied and sashayed, owning the stage like few lead singers have before or since. By the end of the night, the Stones had the crowd in a frenzy. Although only 30 people had made it to the gig because of the treacherous weather conditions, the hotel’s booker had seen enough: He offered the Stones a regular gig.

“The Rolling Stones had caught fire. The music they were playing and the way they played it struck a chord with a young crowd starved for something different, something their own… It was soul-stirring, loud and uncompromising,” writes Bob Spitz in “The Rolling Stones: The Biography,” his magisterial work that charts the 60-year journey of “the greatest rock and roll band in the world.”

Spitz, the author of strong biographies on the Beatles and Led Zeppelin, as well as Ronald Reagan and Julia Child, captures the drama, trauma and betrayals that have kept the Stones in the public’s consciousness for more than six decades. It’s all here: The Stones’ evolution from a blues cover band to artistic rival of the Beatles; the musical peaks — “Aftermath,” “Let It Bleed” and “Exile on Main Street” as well as misfires like “Dirty Work”; Keith’s descent into a debilitating heroin addiction that nearly destroyed him and the band; the death of the ‘60s at the ill-fated Altamont free concert; Marianne Faithfull, Anita Pallenberg, Bianca Jagger, Jerry Hall and other lovers, partners and muses; the breakups, makeups and crackups; and perhaps most important, the unbreakable bond between Jagger and Richards at the center of it all.

Although Spitz unearths little new information, he excels at presenting the Stones in glorious Technicolor. Spitz homes in on the telling details and anecdotes that give the band’s story a deep richness and poignancy.

Take “Satisfaction,” the Stones’ 1965 classic and first U.S. chart topper. The oft-told story is that Richards woke up in the middle of the night, grabbed the guitar that was next to his bed, and recorded the iconic riff and the phrase “I can’t get no … satisfaction” on a cassette recorder in his Clearwater, Fla., hotel room before falling back asleep. But as Spitz notes, the song initially went nowhere in the studio. That is until Stewart purchased a fuzz box for Richards a few days later, which gave the tune a raunchier sound that perfectly matched Jagger’s lyrics of frustration and alienation. A classic was born.

Piercing the Stones mythology

Spitz’s deep reporting often pierces the mythology surrounding the band. Contrary to the popular belief of many fans, for instance, Jones bears much of the responsibility for the rift with his bandmates and his tragic demise.

The most musically adventurous member of the group — he plays sitar on “Paint It Black” and dulcimer on “Lady Jane” — Jones wasn’t a songwriter. That stoked his jealousies and insecurities, along with frontman Jagger stealing the spotlight from him. A monster of a man, Jones impregnated multiple teenage girls and physically and emotionally abused several women, including Pallenberg. Perhaps that’s why she left him for Richards. Over time, Jones made fewer contributions in the studio and onstage, becoming a catatonic drug casualty. The Stones fired Jones in June 1969 but would have been justified doing so a couple years earlier. He drowned in his pool less than a month later.

Author Bob Spitz

(Elena Seibert)

Similarly, Stones lore has long romanticized the making of “Exile on Main Street” in the stifling, dingy basement of Richards’ rented Villa Nellcôte in the South of France, where the Stones had decamped to avoid British taxes. In this telling, Richards, deep in the throes of heroin addiction, somehow managed to come up with one indelible riff after another built around his signature open G tuning — taught to him by Ry Cooder — leading the band to create one of the best albums in rock history. That’s not entirely accurate, according to Spitz.

Yes, Richards came up with the licks for “Rocks Off,” “Happy” and “Tumbling Dice.” But it’s equally true that a strung-out Richards missed myriad recording sessions, invited dealers, hangers-on and other distractions to Nellcôte, and repeatedly failed to turn up to write with Jagger. Far from completing the album in the druggy haze of a French basement, the band spent six months on overdubs at Sunset Sound in Los Angeles, where Jagger contributed many of his vocals.

Beatles vs. Stones

One of the more interesting themes Spitz develops is the symbiotic relationship between the Beatles and Stones, with the Fab Four mostly overshadowing them — until they didn’t.

John Lennon and Paul McCartney wrote “I Wanna Be Your Man” and gave it to the Stones, whose 1963 rendition, with Jones on slide guitar, became the group’s first UK Top 20 hit. The Lennon-McCartney songwriting partnership inspired Jagger and Richards to begin penning their own songs. In early 1964, the Beatles came to the U.S. for the first time, making television history with their appearance on “The Ed Sullivan Show” and playing Carnegie Hall. A few months later, the Stones kicked off their inaugural American tour at the Swing Auditorium in San Bernardino. In 1967, the Beatles released “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band,” a psychedelic masterpiece. The Stones responded with “Their Satanic Majesties Request,” a psychedelic mess.

The Rolling Stones: The Biography cover

As the Beatles began to splinter, Spitz writes, the Stones sharpened their focus. The band released “Beggars Banquet” in late 1968 and “Let It Bleed” the following year, albums every bit as innovative and visionary as “The White Album” and “Abbey Road.” For the first time, the two groups stood as equals.

When the Beatles broke up in 1970, the Stones kept rolling. With Jones replaced by virtuoso guitarist Mick Taylor — whose fluid, melodic style served as a tasty foil to Richards — they produced what many consider their finest works, “Sticky Fingers” and “Exile on Main Street.” More impressively, the band, with Taylor’s successor, Ronnie Wood, has continued to dazzle audiences with incendiary live shows, touring as recently as 2024 behind the late-career triumph “Hackney Diamonds.” The Beatles, by contrast, retired from the road in 1966 and devoted their energies to the studio.

Hundreds of books have been written about the Rolling Stones, but few sparkle quite like Spitz’s. For anyone who loves or even likes the Stones, it’s indispensable.

Like most of the band’s biographers, Spitz gives short shrift to the post-“Exile” period after 1972. He curtly dismisses 2005’s strong “A Bigger Bang” and 2016’s “Blue & Lonesome,” a back-to-basics album of blues covers, as “adequate endeavors that signaled a band living on borrowed time.” That critique is both off target and under-developed. Spitz ignores the band’s legendary live album, “Brussels Affair,” recorded in 1973, or why the band waited decades before officially releasing it.

These are small quibbles. Spitz has written a book worthy of its 704-page length; another 50 or so pages covering the later years would have made it even stronger. To quote the Rolling Stones: “I know it’s only rock ‘n roll, but I like it, like it, yes, I do.”

Marc Ballon, a former Times, Forbes and Inc. Magazine reporter, teaches an advanced writing class at USC. He lives in Fullerton.

SACRAMENTO — President Trump claims Gov. Gavin Newsom is unfit to be president because he has a “learning disability.” It’s a classic case of the pot calling the kettle black.

The centuries-old pot-kettle idiom points out hypocrisy — as when one person accuses another of a flaw that afflicts himself.

California’s governor has battled dyslexia all his life — very successfully, by any measure. Dyslexia is a learning disability that makes reading and writing difficult. But it doesn’t mean a stricken person is unable to learn. He just needs to learn differently, as Newsom has done since he was a teen.

Trump apparently isn’t dyslexic. But he clearly has some learning disabilities — including stubbornness, narrow-mindedness and intolerance.

The president still hasn’t learned, for example, that he lost the 2020 election. He persists in the belief — or maybe it’s merely another boldface lie — that the election was stolen in a Joe Biden conspiracy. That’s a bizarre fantasy.

He also didn’t learn from past administrations that a commander in chief should not wage war against Iran without a concrete plan to keep open the Strait of Hormuz so Middle Eastern oil can keep flowing to the world.

And he never has learned what most of us were taught by our parents: that you don’t berate your friends if you expect to keep them friendly — lashing out, for instance, at allies before and after their balking at sending warships to help protect the vital strait.

Moreover, he didn’t learn that the nation’s founders embedded a checks-and-balances governing system in the Constitution and that Congress has a role in imposing tariffs.

When the normally Trump-friendly Supreme Court ruled against his unilateral tariff agenda, the spoiled president did what he usually does: attack, insulting the justices who struck down his edicts.

“Fools,” “lapdogs” and a “disgrace to our nation,” he whined. “It’s an embarrassment to their families.”

Trump still hasn’t learned to shut up and try to be civilized.

Not even after shocking everyone by saying of the late Republican Sen. John McCain, a Navy Pilot who spent more than five years as a tortured POW in the Hanoi Hilton: “He’s a war hero because he was captured. I like people that weren’t captured.”

Any respect I might have had for the guy vanished in 2015 when the then-candidate for president publicly mocked a New York Times reporter’s disability. At a campaign rally, Trump jerked his arms and flailed his hands while making fun of the reporter’s palsy-like ailment.

So it wasn’t a surprise recently when Trump tore into Newsom for his dyslexia four times in one week.

Yes, Newsom has his eye on the 2028 presidential election and has been scoring points nationally with Democratic activists by using Trump as a punching bag. But Trump keeps offering himself up as an irresistible target.

Regardless, there’s no excuse — even in hard knocks politics — for attacking someone because of his disability.

“Gavin Newscum” — Trump’s synonym for the governor — ”has admitted he has learning disabilities, dyslexia,” he told reporters in the Oval Office. “Honestly, I’m all for people with learning disabilities but not for my president.”

“Everything about him is dumb,” Trump added.

In a Fox News Radio interview, Trump said that “presidents can’t have a learning disability.” And on Facebook, Trump wrote: “I don’t want the president of the United States to have a cognitive deficiency.”

A quick Google search could have shown Trump that several presidents have had learning disabilities, including dyslexia.

Start with George Washington, who struggled with grammar and spelling. And Thomas Jefferson, author of the Declaration of Independence, who had trouble with reading and spelling.

Other presidents with learning disabilities: Andrew Jackson, Woodrow Wilson, Dwight Eisenhower, John F. Kennedy and Lyndon Johnson. “It’s a poor mind that can think of only one way to spell a word,” Jackson asserted.

Scientist Albert Einstein was dyslexic. So were Apple co-founder Steve Jobs and Thomas Edison.

Dyslexia affects roughly one in five Americans to some degree — more than 40 million people, although relatively few are aware of it, according to researchers.

Newsom has spoken openly for years about his struggles with dyslexia. It’s difficult for him to read, especially prepared speeches. So he reads and re-reads, underlines and highlights and meticulously takes notes. When a speech must be read off a teleprompter, he practices for hours.

In January, the governor began his State of the State address to the Legislature with this ad-lib:

“I’m not shy or, you know, embarrassed about my 960 SAT score. But I am a little bit about my inability to read the written [speech] text. And so it’s always been something that I have to work through and I’m confronting.”

In his recently released autobiography, “Young Man in a Hurry,” Newsom writes: “My high school grades were all over the place and I scored lousy on the SAT, three hours of dyslexic torture.”

Early in his political career as a San Francisco supervisor, he writes, “speaking to a crowd was not unlike the fear I felt in third grade reading to my classmates …. So I learned to memorize my talking points and best lines … and wing it from there.

“This is how I discovered one of the secret powers of dyslexia. I could read a room with the best of them. I’d walk in and immediately size up the faces, mood and manners. … I learned that an audience didn’t mind occasional hiccups of speech as long as you looked them in the eye.”

Newsom was twice elected mayor and twice governor.

None of this means he should necessarily be elected president.

There may be policy and political reasons to consider him unfit — but not because of any learning disability.

What else you should be reading

The must-read: Newsom leads Harris for president among California Democrats, poll finds
The TK: Democrats excluded from USC gubernatorial debate urge rivals to boycott in solidarity
The L.A. Times Special: Rep. Eric Swalwell’s private AI company raises money, questions

Until next week,
George Skelton

—
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England’s last-gasp defeat by France will have their fans discussing certain moments for years to come, but their indiscipline throughout the Six Nations came to the fore once again – particularly at the end of both halves in Paris.

Leading 27-17 with half-time looming, Ellis Genge was sin-binned after referee Nika Amashukeli ruled the prop had dragged down a maul, soon after two quick penalties had handed momentum back to France.

“After those three penalties in less than two minutes, England then conceded 21 points including that penalty try,” former Wales and Lions captain Sam Warburton said on BBC Rugby Special.

“Then with 14 men they conceded another 14 points, so that is 21 points in that period. It was a really crucial two minutes that they got wrong.”

Then in the dying moments of normal time with England 46-45 ahead, the referee gave France the option of a penalty kick from either of two positions, following infringements by Trevor Davison and Maro Itoje.

Thomas Ramos made no mistake to secure the title for France. Speaking on Rugby Special, former Scotland captain John Barclay said that short spell will be one England will regret.

“In the final two minutes after Tommy Freeman scored, France had a player in the sin-bin. When England look at how they managed this period, they had the game in their hands and threw it away.

“It was a really disappointing end for England. It will be a really tough debriefing on how they manage those crucial moments in the final bit of the game.

“Across the championship they are the top for penalties conceded, with eight yellows and one red, and the damage it did to them – they conceded 63 points with a player off the pitch.”

Just in time for the Oscars, Tilly Norwood, and by extension her creator, Eline van der Velden, gave actors at every level an unexpected gift — the chance to breathe a little easier.

AI will not be replacing you any time soon.

On Tuesday, the AI phenomenon known as Tilly debuted a single and music video titled “Take the Lead.” In it, Tilly sings a self-celebratory, pro-AI anthem with the big-eyed feisty longing of an algorithm marked “Disney princess: Big song” while she wanders through increasingly fantastic self-affirming scenarios that scream “Plus ‘Barbie.’”

Van der Velden was clearly trying to persuade actors to embrace the possibilities of AI but like Timothée Chalamet, who managed to prove that opera and ballet have many devoted fans by publicly suggesting the opposite, her attempt will likely backfire. The underlying message of the video, at least to performers, appears to be: Relax — AI hasn’t figured out how to lip sync properly, much less act.

It’s a bit of good news in a time of AI anxiety, some of which was Tilly-induced. Last year, Van der Velden, a Dutch actor and founder of the production company Particle6, debuted Tilly, via Instagram, as the “world’s first AI actress.” Around the time the account hit 50,000 followers, Van der Velden announced that several talent agents were interested in representing Tilly. Not Van der Velden, but Tilly Norwood, a “performer” who did not exist.

For a few minutes, Hollywood lost its collective mind. Not only were creators and performers facing a future in which their work, bodies and faces could be scanned and fed into an algorithm capable of imitating writing styles or creating images of actors doing things they never did (in a recent AI video, Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt duke it out on a war-torn rooftop), now some feared they would be competing for jobs with “actors” who could work 24 hours a day, required no health benefits and would never demand bowls of M&Ms with the green ones removed.

SAG-AFTRA, which had just ended a strike caused in part by concerns about AI, protested Tilly and the use of “stolen performances to put actors out of work.” Various actors were outraged and some called for the interested talent agencies to be identified. Even Emily Blunt was publicly disconcerted, begging Hollywood agencies to “please stop taking away our human connection.”

Van der Velden quickly responded, insisting that Tilly was “not a replacement for a human being, but a creative work — a piece of art … a new tool — a new paintbrush.”

Then, on Tuesday, “Tilly” released a music video that seems to argue the exact opposite.

In the video, which appears over the message “Can’t wait to go to the Oscars,” the computer-generated young woman trips through a montage of “famous person moments,” as Tilly insists that she is not a puppet but a star; she encourages all actors to embrace and use AI, to own their creativity and “be free.”

A note prefacing the video states that “18 real humans” were involved in its production (including Van der Velden who is the basis of the performance), who provide the subtext for Tilly warbling: “They say it’s not real, that it’s fake, but I’m a human, make no mistake.”

Whatever Van der Velden and her team hoped to achieve, one thing is very clear: Emily Blunt has nothing to fear from Tilly Norwood.

The questionable merits of the song, performance and production value aside, the video is the best argument yet for why AI “performers” are a limited threat. As Tilly walks the streets of London, poses for selfies, signs autographs, appears on talk shows, performs live in front of enormous audiences, interacts with photographers, we are reminded that Tilly could never do any of this. AI performances are, by their very nature, limited to a screen.

Instagram fame is a real thing and can be monetarily beneficial, just as animated and digitally enhanced characters can connect deeply with audiences. But beyond her ability to raise the spectre of wholly coded “performers” constructed from borrowed bits of humans (which, as anyone who has read or seen “Frankenstein” knows, never ends well), Tilly doesn’t appear to have anything like star power.

And to consider her as existing separate from her creators is like imagining that the ventriloquist dummy Charlie McCarthy could have a career, and an agent, separate from the real performer Edgar Bergen.

Though Charlie did have the advantage of being able to be seen live and in person.

Watching Tilly, one is reminded that the magic of actors is that they are human. Audiences are, after all, human too and whether facing a stage or a screen, we are captivated by certain performers’ ability to bring all manner of characters and stories alive, while also being, as Us Weekly says, “just like us.”

People with bodies that age and change, people who fall in love, get messy, say dumb things, say smart things, fall prey to illness and accidents, shop at Trader Joe’s, end up in court or trip when about to receive an Oscar.

Their faulty, glorious humanity allows them to connect to their art, but it also connects them to us. We may never get an Oscar or be able to masterfully deliver a Shakespeare soliloquy on a chat show, but we know what it’s like to trip or say something dumb or experience aging, illness or accident.

You can’t replace actors with algorithms, even if/when someone comes up with something more convincing than Tilly, because actors are not just about performances. They are people who are alive in the world and no amount of coding can replicate that.