Elegance and Grit

KEITH RICHARDS
I was with Ahmet at the Beacon, ten minutes before he went to the john. He asked me how my head was, after the bang. I said, "Have a feel." Because I have a big dent on the left side, front lobe. He was rubbing it, and we were laughing our heads off. By the time I got offstage, I'd heard what happened. It's almost as if I cursed him. So nobody else can rub my head anymore.

I can't remember exactly when or where we first met. Ahmet sort of insidiously crept into our lives [laughs]. He was both diplomatic and down-home. He was very different from the people who run most record labels. I remember once Mick and I having a meeting with Ahmet. He sat at his desk with his walking cane, balancing it on the top of the desk. Mick and I are trying to have a serious conversation with him, but I looked at him and realized, "Forget it, we're getting nowhere with him today, baby."

He knew the meaning of drama. When he came to our sessions, it was usually with a bit of fanfare and some beautiful babe on his arm -- he had a bevy. He wouldn't say much about the music. You'd get little grunts: "Damn good. That's the shit." He wouldn't want to interfere. But he had his ear on everything.

With Ahmet, you weren't dealing with some hood or lawyer or shyster, which is quite often what you get in the record business. You were talking on level terms with Ahmet. He was intimately involved with what came out under his name.

Ahmet could also get excessive. He liked to hang. And I loved to hang with him, just to hear what came out of the side of his mouth. There would be these little asides: "Screw that motherfucker," things like that.

He was one of the Stones' father figures. I looked up to Ahmet the way I did Muddy Waters. Until the day he died, his whole thing was to be involved with musicians. His love of the music, his joy from it, stayed with him. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been backstage at the Beacon a couple of weeks ago. It was full circle. And that touches me.

KID ROCK
The first time I met Ahmet, I didn't really meet him. I was doing a showcase in Los Angeles that Atlantic hooked up. Nobody watched us -- people were all talking and sucking their own dicks. But Ahmet stood right there in front. He watched the whole show. He got it. The next day he called me and said, "How's my young Elvis?"

That's when we started kickin' it. I'd see him at the Peninsula in New York, and we'd just hang out. Then, one day, I called him and said, "Do you want to come to Detroit and listen to some music?" He said, "Yeah, I'll get an airplane." There was no beating around the bush with Ahmet. We flew to Detroit, ate some barbecue pork sandwiches and listened to music. That's what he loved to do. He was the Godfather of the music business, but we never talked about the music business. Just music.

On the boat in Turkey, or at his house, he told so many great stories about great people. He schooled me about people like Les McCann and Eddie Harris. He was always down to rock. He could've been my grandfather, but he partied like my best friend. In Detroit he'd be in my house with all my boys -- we'd be rapping on the microphone, and he'd be tapping his feet. You could see it in his eyes that he loved it. He used to give me the keys to his house in the Hamptons and say, "James, the butler, will take care of you. Have a good time." And you know I did.

NEIL YOUNG
When Ahmet Ertegun first came to hear Buffalo Springfield, he immediately started helping us to make our music. He was parental -- a cool guy, musically savvy and talking our language, but not threatening or overbearing.

I decided, after the Springfield broke up, that it wasn't a good idea for Stephen [Stills] and me to be on the same label. I told Ahmet. I said, "I love Atlantic, but I don't want to compete with Stephen. I want a fresh start." He totally understood. He said, "It's always sad to have to part ways. But you can call me if you need anything. I'll give you advice. And if you ever want to come back, give me a call." There was absolutely none of the bullshit that you would expect.

When Stephen asked me to join Crosby, Stills and Nash, I didn't know it was Ahmet who was behind it. One of the things he liked about the Springfield was Stephen and me -- what happened when we played guitars together. Even though we fought like brothers, we played like brothers, and Ahmet saw that we could keep on going. To Ahmet, that was a no-brainer.

The last time I saw Ahmet, we just sat and talked. He was a regular guy. He happened to also be one of the most powerful guys in the music business. But he had no use for wielding the power. The only time he ever used his power was with other executives. He didn't use it on the musicians. And it's suitable that his last conscious moments were at a concert. Because that's the way he lived. He went to a show. And the encore was heaven.