By Adam Brownstein — June 27, 2025
Even dust, when piled up, can become a mountain.
Japanese Proverb
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One late evening in the winter of 1967 Norman Pilcher, a senior constable at the time, knocked on the door of a sprawling country manor. Pilcher was not alone, but accompanied by 18 other members of the Sussex police. The group was were engaged in a operation that would come to be historic in a comically tragic way.
The 16th century estate, known as Redlands, featured a thatched roof flanked by brick and flint wings. It featured sprawling groves on the property along with ample bed chambers, salons, drawing rooms and restrooms for lord and lady. More importantly, it had a new owner named Keith Richards. Emboldened by recent fame and wealth, the Rolling Stones guitarist had purchased Redlands in 1966 for 20,000 English pounds. It was an eye watering sum at the time. Like many other newly minted rockstars, Richards had invested in countryside property given there were no ETFs nor AI startups to bet on at the time.
Pilcher and his cadre of constables had arrived at Redlands after receiving a tip from The News of the World that drug-fueled debauchery was afoot inside. Their operation took a small amount of time, and was not as exciting as you would imagine Upone entering, Pilcher and his minions encountered a handful of young guests assembled in the principle drawing room about to watch a lauded documentary film about World War I. A couple of them were high on weed, but, much to the chagrin of law enforcement, no drugs at all on Keith Richard’s person. A handful of amphetamines were discovered inside the green odd jacket of Mick Jagger.
Unlike the Beatles, who meshed unparalleled music with infallible pop star status, the Stones were cast as the bad boys of the music world. This was a position that suited the tabloids of the age who needed greasy hair villians at which to point the boney finger of society. They had no Marketing guru like Brian Epstein to polish their image, and they came to enjoy being a counterpoint to the Beatles. The Stones, by provenance, were not really so roguish. Mick Jagger, despite his reputation as an unsavory lothario, had studied at the prestigious London School of Economics, a feet many students aspired to yet precious few achieved.
In the news headlines the “Redlands Scandal” captured the zeitgeist of England in the mid sixties. In the general trending topic of drug use amongst teens, the Stones served as the perfect scapegoat. In hypocritical contrast, also in 1967, Paul McCartney had freely admitted to experimenting with LSD in an interview in Life magazine. Yet he and the rest of Fab Four received little scorn publically. The hullabaloo also made for odd bedfellows; William Rees-Mogg (can you invent a better name, really?), the blue blooded Editor of the center-right Times, penned a widely praised editorial throwing scorn on the severity of Mick Jagger’s jail sentence. It was entitled “Who breaks a butterfly on the wheel”, referring to Alexander Pope’s critique of excessive punishment for minor infractions.
Unsurprisingly, one band member was not at Redlands that evening, the erstwhile drummer in the band, Charlie Watts. Watts was notoriously well behaved and courteous. He endured the rigors of rock and roll life, but returned home as soon as tours were done. While Mick Jagger dressed in the peacock plumage worthy of the worlds greatest frontman and Richards sported the bad boy ensemble of an electrified buccaneer, Watts found comfort in Saville Row bespoke suits. Once he began to earn handsomely he made it a point to order his mum’s favorite chocolate cake to be delivered to her each Friday. In nearly 60 years as a band member he never missed a gig. He also never played a drum solo believing it to take light away from the greater good of the Stones as a whole.
Towards the end of his life, Watts was interviewed by Ed Bradley on 60 minutes (after he got the earring). Bradley inquired about the better known members of the Stones, and Watts offered his flattering assessments. Keith Richards was “the heartbeat” of the band. Mick Jagger, the greatest frontman of all time save for James Brown in the early years.
And then, as you would expect, Bradley asked “What about you? What about Charlie?”
Charlie Watts stroked his pointy chin for a moment, and then shared his simple answer.
“Well,” he offered. “I’m the drummer. My job is to keep the beat.”
Watching the interview recently I was struck by two very different sentiments. Firstly, how refreshing to observe humility, not hubris, in someone of such fame and wealth. In the modern age artists (and the occasional politician) like to expound on their talents to fawning scrollers.
Next, there was something familiar in the rhetoric of Charlie Watts. His sense of duty and purpose, of “keeping time” for others, echoed so much of what I have observed in Japan over the course of 25 years. There are many kindred spirits of Charlie Watts in and around Tokyo.
- Years ago, when I was part of the team at Sony Computer Entertainment (aka PlayStation), I became friends with a very quiet, very senior designer named Sakamoto-san. He was a small man, slight in build, yet he always filled the rest of us with confidence. Sakamoto-san had worked on some beloved projects in SCE, his most notable being designing the iconic PlayStation logo. The logo that adorned more than 150M PS2’s around the world. The logo that, with it’s epifonious, tagline, concluded some of the most adored advertisements in history. When I asked Sakamoto-san what he had done to celebrate after becoming so senior in Sony group, he explained that he wanted to buy a nice sofa for his family. I cannot imagine that the headline “Star designer busy couch for wife” would be good click fodder.
- I have reported in this space the mindblowing stupidity for which I am well known. In particular my ability to lose things of value in Japan. Wallets, green cards and cameras to name a few. In each case a kind member of Tokyo Metropolitan law enforcement has been there to suffer my poor language skills and my general lack of competency. Always with a smile and with wellsprings of patience.
- The cheerful kitchen crew at the hoikuen (public nursery school) down the road from our house wash, peel, chop, steam and present fresh vegetables along with steaming cups of miso soup to dozens of five year olds. They prove that being the lunch lady can be a cool and, dare we say, happy existence.
Everyday life in Japan is filled with Charlie Watts, there to offer earnest effort . . . and to keep the beat.
The Tokyo Yenta 