Welcome back to the Deep Dive. Today we are focusing
on a figure who for over three decades provided
this rock solid, often silent foundational stability
for perhaps the most flamboyant and tumultuous
rock band in history. He was, you know, anything
but quiet behind the scenes. Exactly. We're going
far beyond that standard narrative of the quiet
stone and exploring William George Wyman, born
William George Perks in 1936. Our sources paint
this picture. Of restless. Really analytical
mind. I mean, a man whose 31 years as the bassist
for the Rolling Stones were paralleled by careers
as an inventor, a meticulous chronicler of history.
A published author, an acclaimed photographer,
the list goes on. It really does. And that dual
life is the mission of this deep dive. For you,
the learner, we're distilling the essential nature
of Wyman. You know, what made his specific sound
so integral to the Stones' identity. And how
did he manage to just walk away in 1993, already
having established these multiple successful
non -musical careers? Yeah, it's the story of
the anchor who was also the historian. And yes,
we will definitely be unpacking those famously
complex personal dynamics. The material we gathered
is drawn from some really comprehensive biographies
and historical records, which gives us this unique
opportunity to trace the trajectory from his
very austere post -war childhood. Right. Right
through to his surprising return to the studio
with the Rolling Stones in 2023. It's a study
in consistency and curiosity. To really understand
Bill Wyman, you have to start with William George
Birx. And the setting is just so crucial. He
was born in Lewisham Hospital, raised in Penge,
southeast London. And when we look at the other
members of the Stones, you know, who were so
often defined by their theatricality or their
bohemian art school ruse, Wyman's background,
it really stands out because it was defined by
scarcity. Absolutely. The sources use very evocative
language. They note his early life was scarred
by poverty. His father was a bricklayer and he
was one of six children. So this wasn't just
like a working class struggle. No, no. This was
a childhood defined by survival during World
War II. He lived through the London Blitz. And
the details from that period are, I mean, they're
harrowing. We aren't talking about distant memories.
We're talking about tangible, terrifying events.
The record shows specific instances of enemy
fighter planes strafing in his neighborhood,
killing neighbors. Experiencing that kind of
violence and instability so early on, I think
it fundamentally contributes to that intensely
grounded, even cautious nature he later exhibited
in the band, right? I think you have to believe
that. And that need for stability is visible
immediately in his educational path. He attended
Beckenham and Pinge County Grammar School, which
was a respectable education. But he didn't even
sit for his exams. No, he didn't sit for his
general certificate of education exams. He left
school prematurely at Easter 1953. And that wasn't
some rebellious choice, was it? It was pure economic
necessity. Exactly. His father insisted he take
a steady job, which led him to working for a
bookmaker. The promise of immediate reliable
income just. It trumped the long -term rewards
of academic study. And this is the mentality
that he then carried into the most unstable business
imaginable. Rock and roll. Rock and roll. That
stability was interrupted, ironically, by mandatory
national service. In 1955, Wyman was called up
for two years in the Royal Air Force. He actually
signed up for an extra year, too. He did, which
saw him posted to Oldenburg Air Base in North
Germany, working in the motor transport section.
And Germany becomes this like accidental portal
to his musical career. Yeah. Being stationed
there exposed him directly to sounds that hadn't
yet fully permeated post -war Britain. He was
hearing rock and roll not only in local dance
halls, like one called Zum Grunenwald. Which
is a great name. But critically via the American
Forces Network, AFN radio. And that exposure
was just transformative. In 1956, while he was
still in Germany, he bought his first guitar
for 400 Deutsche Mark. Now, we know he'd had
some piano lessons as a boy, right? Between ages
10 and 13. He did. But the skiffle group he formed
on camp in 1957 with Casey Jones, that was his
first real engagement with modern popular music.
But the guitar, it wasn't his destiny. When he
married his first wife, Diane Corey, in 1959,
he made a serious financial investment a year
later. A Burns electric guitar for 52 pounds.
Which, when you adjust for inflation, is well
over 1 ,500 mounds today. A huge amount of money.
A fortune. Yet he still felt dissatisfied with
his progress on the instrument. And this leads
us to the critical turning point for the Rolling
Stones sound. He switched to bass guitar. The
motivation. Yeah. Hearing the bass played live
at a Baron Knights concert, it just... It resonated
with him instantly. What's fascinating is that
he didn't just switch instruments. He engineered
his own specific sound because he couldn't afford
the standard equipment. That's where the inventiveness
comes in. He purchased a secondhand UK -built
Dallas Tuxedo bass, and in an act of pure musical
engineering, he manually removed the frets. He
made his own fretless bass. He created his own
fretless instrument. It was a 30 -inch short
-scale bass, which became the cornerstone of
his early tone. This instrument choice, born
of necessity and curiosity, made history. That
DIY bass became his ticket. By 1961, he was playing
it in a local band called the Cliftons. And his
unusual instrument, that deep, slightly thudding,
fretless sound, was instrumental in the audition
for the nascent Rolling Stones. So, December
7, 1962. The audition at the White Horse Pub
in Chelsea. He's there to succeed Dick Taylor.
Right. And the band members, Jagger, Richards,
and Jones, they were initially a bit reserved
about him, but they were deeply impressed by
his equipment. His gear. His gear. He brought
the custom fretless bass plus a modified amplifier
and a Vox AC -30. In a time when the Stones were
struggling and scrappy, Wyman arrived with the
sound, the gear, and the older, more grounded
demeanor they desperately needed. And that grounded
demeanor was literally reinforced by his age.
Wyman was the oldest member of the group, which
must have contributed to his anchoring role.
Oh, for sure. And just a quick final note on
his name. He legally changed his surname to Wyman
in August 1964. Right, taking the phonetic spelling
of a friend from his RAF days, Lee Wyman. So
that military connection remained even in his
stage name. So when you look at this origin story,
Wyman was kind of the accidental genius, wasn't
he? I think that's the perfect way to put it.
He didn't come from a deep blues background like
Richards or the art school environment of Jagger.
He brought real world stability, financial capability,
owning his own amps was huge, and most importantly,
a technical innovation. That fretless bass. That
fretless bass. Yeah. It instantly differentiated
their rhythm section. His stability became the
essential anchor in a band that was designed
for glorious chaos. So moving into his core three
-decade tenure, Wyman's contribution is just
staggering. He anchored the bass on the band's
first 19 studio albums. 19. A steady, if quiet,
presence. He also contributed backing vocals
frequently through 1967, showing he wasn't completely
locked into just the low end. His creative contribution
often gets overshadowed by the Glimmer Twins,
but the sources confirm he has two specific songwriting
credits released by the Rolling Stones. The first
is... Another Land. From the Psychedelic album,
there's Satanic Majesty's Request in 67. Exactly.
And what's interesting about In Another Land
is that Wyman sang lead on it, and it was actually
released as his first official solo single. Right.
Credited solely to him, even while he was a full
-time member of the Scones. It was an early sign
of his independent musical identity trying to
break through. Yeah. The second track is Downtown
Susie, which later appeared on the Metamorphosis
Outtakes collection. Mick Jagger sang lead on
this one. He did. But the original title was
Sweet Lyle Lucy, named after Lyle Street in London's
notorious red light district. And the title was
changed by their manager, Alan Klein, right,
without the band's input. Allegedly, yes. And
that small detail is a perfect illustration of
the kind of managerial and corporate chaos that
Wyman was constantly observing and, more importantly,
recording. That quiet observation leads us to
the core of his non -musical role. The Chronicler.
Wyman kept a comprehensive diary throughout his
entire life, starting from childhood. This wasn't
just a memo book. It was a meticulous record
of every gig, every recording session, every
business meeting, every argument. This journal
is historically invaluable. It formed the foundation
for his 1990 autobiography, Stone Alone, and
his 2002 book, Rolling with the Stones. But keeping
such a detailed record during that period, it
must have created a fascinating tension, didn't
it? He was both an active participant and this
impartial forensic observer. It raises a crucial
question about the internal dynamics. How did
the band react to the idea that their bassist
was constantly taking notes? Did they trust the
keeper of the secrets? Well, his closeness to
Brian Jones in those early turbulent years suggests
a certain bond built on shared observation. That's
a great point. The source notes that Wyman and
Jones often shared rooms on tour, and Wyman was
one of only two band members, alongside Charlie
Watts, to attend Jones' funeral in 1969. That
bond with Jones, the outcast, is significant.
And that journal gives Wyman the authority to
make controversial claims that challenge the
established mythology of the band, which is usually
controlled by Jagger and Richards. For example,
His assertion in Stone Alone that he co -composed
the iconic riff for Jumpin' Jack Flash. Exactly.
He said he worked on that iconic riff with Brian
Jones and Charlie Watts. This directly contradicts
the established narrative that credits the song
primarily to Jagger and Richards. And while the
claim remains disputed, the fact that it comes
from a detailed contemporaneous record forces
rock historians to pause and reexamine the creative
process. That detail alone underscores the immense
value of the perpetual witness, the man with
the diary. But perhaps the most shocking example
of his internal leverage involves the band's
biggest anthem, I Can't Get No Satisfaction.
This is where it gets really compelling regarding
the internal politics. Our source material confirms
there was a surprising... and deeply consequential
conflict over releasing that song as a single
in 1965. You mean the song that defined the Rolling
Stones globally was almost shelved? It was. The
sources are very clear. The song was released
only after a nail -biting, razor -thin, 3 -2
internal band vote. A vote. A vote. Astonishingly,
the two core songwriters, Mick Jagger and Keith
Richards, voted against releasing it. No. Why?
They felt it wasn't commercial enough. Or perhaps
that the riff felt too raw. Too simple. So the
rhythm section, Wyman, Charlie Watts, and Brian
Jones had to vote down the frontmen. Yes. That
totally shifts your perception of the Stones'
early decision -making process. The quiet observers
were the ones who saw the commercial and artistic
potential of what became the most defining rock
song of the 1960s. It illustrates that the anchor
wasn't just physical or rhythmic. It was often
moral and strategic. Yeah, Wyman's inherent stability
and clear -headedness provided the counterbalance
needed to overcome the volatile creative arguments
between Jagger and Richards. And all the while,
he maintained a remarkably busy schedule of side
projects outside the Stones' orbit throughout
the 70s and 80s, which really demonstrates his
versatility. He was a highly sought -after session
player, especially in the blues rock community.
He played on foundational albums like the London
Howlin' Wolf Sessions in 1971. With Clapton and
Charlie Watts. Right. Then there was jamming
with Edward. In 1972, that spontaneous supergroup
jam that included Ry Cooder, Nicky Hopkins, Jagger,
and Watts. He was clearly a central figure in
that whole London session scene. And he also
achieved genuine mainstream solo success. He
did. His single, Si, Si, Je Suis Un Rockstar,
a French -English title translating to Yes, Yes,
I Am a Rockstar, became a top 20 hit in several
countries in July 1981. That's an achievement
that often gets lost in the anonymous. of the
Stones' legacy. It really does. And he also dove
headfirst into film composition. He composed
the soundtrack album for the 1981 movie Green
Ice. And then he worked on two films by the celebrated
Italian horror director Dario Argento. Phenomena
in 85 and Opera in 87. That's a fascinating,
unexpected detour into the avant -garde horror
space. We also have to mention the philanthropic
work inspired by his friend Faces bassist Ronnie
Lane, who was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis.
Right. In 1983, Wyman helped organize Willie...
and The Poor Boys, a fundraiser concert tour
for action research into multiple sclerosis.
That concert series and the resulting album involved
a truly rotating cast of high -profile guests,
a who's who of British rock royalty. Eric Clapton,
Jeff Beck, Jimmy Page. It demonstrated his capability
not just as a musician, but as an organizer and
a leader. So after 31 years of anchor service,
chronicling, and composing, Wyman officially
stepped away. He left the Rolling Stones in January
1993 following the massive 1989 -90 Steel Wheels
Urban Jungle. tours. His tenure remains the benchmark.
Thirty one years, 19 studio albums. It is an
official fixed period of the band's history.
And while Daryl Jones has capably filled the
bassist role ever since, it's telling that the
Stones have never made him an official member.
That's right. They acknowledge that Wyman's era
is a unique historical chapter, one which, thanks
to his journals, is perhaps the most comprehensively
documented period of the band's history. The
lesson here really is that the quietest person
in the room often sees the most. Wyman's discipline,
born of his necessity -driven childhood, translated
into the stability the stones needed musically,
strategically, and historically. Let's dedicate
a moment to the specific technical contribution
of Bill Wyman. He wasn't just playing the instrument.
He was, in a way, inventing the sound that defined
the early Stones. We talked about his modified
Dallas tuxedo bass, but let's analyze the key
elements of his signature tone. This is critical
for understanding why the early Stones sounded
so different from bands like The Beatles or The
Who. Wyman's signature sound hinged on two core
elements, the instrument's physical design and
his technique. Okay, so start with the instrument.
The Dallas Tuxedo was a 30 -inch short -scale
bass. Why does that matter musically? Especially
when compared to the standard instruments of
the time, like a Fender Precision Bass, which
were typically, what, 34 inches? Right. The short
scale means the distance between the frets is
smaller, which makes the strings looser and easier
to bend. It gives the instrument a rounder, fatter,
and slightly less articulate tone. So a deeper,
warmer tone. Exactly. It was very different from
the punchy, defined tone of a standard P -bass.
But the crucial innovation, as we said, was removing
the frets entirely. What's the sonic consequence
of having a fretless bass in a 1960s rock and
roll band? By removing the metal frets, he eliminated
the sharp attack you get when a string hits metal.
Instead, you get a smoother, more fluid, almost
woody sustain. It mimics the deep resonance of
an acoustic upright double bass, which was the
instrument of choice in traditional American
blues and jazz. So he was intentionally importing
that traditional blues foundation into the electric
rock format. Exactly. And this pairs perfectly
with his technique, which was a walking bass
style. Which is a melodic, often syncopated bass
line, where the bassist plays a note on every
beat. Right, often using passing tones to smoothly
transition from one chord change to the next.
So he wasn't playing aggressive, high -energy
rock lines. He was providing this constant melodic
movement underneath the song's structure. It
creates rhythmic stability. Think of Willie Dixon,
the legendary blues bassist and songwriter, or
Ricky Fenson, who was prominent in the British
R &B scene. Wyman was directly inspired by them.
I see. His walking bass style, delivered with
that unique fretless thud, gave the early Stones
that slinky, soulful R &B groove that other emerging
British rock acts, often utilizing standard fretted
basses, just couldn't replicate. That technical
insight explains so much. It wasn't a mistake.
It was a carefully curated sound profile. It
was. And even as the band's sound matured, he
continued experimenting with short scale and
unusual instruments. His arsenal was pretty eclectic,
wasn't it? Oh, yeah. He quickly moved beyond
the Dallas tuxedo, but he maintained that preference
for the short scale. We see him use a famous
star bass in other famous models. And he's famously
associated with the distinctive Vox teardrop
bass. A visually iconic instrument that later
became a Bill Wyman signature model. He also
played the Fender Mustang Bass, which is another
short -scale classic, alongside more eccentric
choices like the transparent Ampeg Dan Armstrong
basses. A Gibson EB -3, and even a Travis Bean
bass, which was known for its aluminum neck.
He was always on the hunt for a unique sonic
signature. He was. And this search continued
right into the later years of his Stones tenure.
The source notes that since the late 1980s, he
largely settled on Steinberger basses. Headless,
minimal design. Composite materials. Yeah. This
proves he wasn't stuck in the 60s. He was consistently
adopting the most advanced, often non -traditional,
equipment available to achieve his preferred
tone. And his influence is now permanently woven
into the instrument manufacturing world. In 2011,
the Bass Center in London honored him by issuing
the Wyman Bass. Which was a factory -produced,
fretted interpretation of that original homemade
fretless bass. It's the ultimate acknowledgement
of his foundational contribution. And his physical
instruments are now considered invaluable artifacts.
This brings us back to his chronicler role and
its financial implications. Consider the astonishing
auction result from 2020. His 1969 Fender Mustang
Bass sold for $380 ,000. That is an unbelievable
figure for a bass guitar. It was, at the time
of sale, the highest price ever paid for a bass
guitar at auction. Wow. And that price doesn't
reflect the instrument's rarity as much as it
reflects the historical weight of the man who
wielded it. It's a tangible piece of this ability
he provided during the stone's most productive
era. He didn't just play bass. He designed the
son of foundation for the early British invasion.
So when Bill Wyman left the Rolling Stones in
1993, he didn't just disappear into obscurity.
Not at all. He shifted focus to an independent
career that was already decades in the making.
His main musical vehicle for two decades became
Bill Wyman's Rhythm Kings. The Rhythm Kings,
formed in 1997 and active until 2018, were the
perfect Post Stones project because they explicitly
embodied his love for historical music. Right.
They weren't trying to be a contemporary rock
band. No, they focused. on covering and celebrating
the deep roots of blues, soul, rock and roll,
and jazz. And they were known for their fantastic,
regularly rotating, cross -generational lineup
of stellar musicians, which created a very different
dynamic from the fixed high -tension structure
of the Stones. It was much more collaborative
and celebratory. The lineup often included musicians
like Gary Brooker from Pro Call Harem, Georgie
Fame, Albert Lee, Andy Fairweather Lowe. A real
super group. It was less about ego and more about
musicianship and respecting the heritage of the
music. Although he was the band leader, he still
preferred to stay behind the bass. However, the
source notes he typically sang lead vocals on
two specific covers in the Rhythm Kings setlist.
Chuck Berry's You Never Can Tell. And predictably,
the Stones' classic Honky Tonk Women. I imagine
performing Honky Tonk Women as the lead singer
gave him a chance to reinterpret the song he
helped anger for decades. That's a lovely thought
reclaiming a piece of his own history. Beyond
the Rhythm Kings, we have to circle back to his
philanthropic efforts. The Willie and the Poor
Boys Project in 83. A massive undertaking. assembling
a legendary rotating cask for the action research
into multiple sclerosis benefit. And the roll
call of contributors, it reads like a rock and
roll Hall of Fame induction. Eric Clapton, Jeff
Beck, Jimmy Page. That ability to organize and
attract such high caliber talent. speaks to the
quiet authority and immense respect Wyman held
in the music community, separate from the Jagger
-Richards sphere. He also continued appearing
in historical reunion contexts, right? He filled
in for Ronnie Lane in The Faces reunion in 2009.
He did. And his participation in the 2011 Ian
Stewart tribute album, Boogie for Stew, was particularly
meaningful, as Ian Stewart was the Stones' original
pianist and road manager. The sixth stone. The
sixth stone. Wyman played on two tracks, including
one recorded with the stones, reinforcing his
status as a historical connector. Okay, let's
turn to the pursuits that truly define him as
a Renaissance man and show the depth of his character.
We need to talk about his dual life as an amateur
archaeologist and a noted photographer. His passion
for archaeology and metal detecting is intense.
It's more than a simple hobby. It's an intellectual
pursuit. He spent countless hours on treasure
detecting adventures across the British Isles,
which resulted in his 2005 illustrated book,
Treasure Islands, co -written with Richard Havers.
That curiosity about finding, preserving, and
documenting the past feels like a direct echo
of his need to chronicle the stone's history.
Is. He transitioned from documenting contemporary
rock history to documenting ancient human history?
It's the same compulsion. The meticulous search
for evidence. And he turned this passion into
a successful business. Selling Bill Wyman's signature
metal detectors starting in 2007. Selling your
own line of metal detectors while simultaneously
playing blues with superstars is perhaps the
ultimate example of the Bill Wyman duality. It
really is. And his photography career is similarly
dedicated and detailed. He's taken photographs
throughout his entire life, documenting not only
the Stone's career from the inside, but also
his various artistic accomplishments. His photography
work is of museum quality. In 2010, he launched
a major retrospective exhibition in St. Paul
de Vence, where he owns a residence in the south
of France. And it featured these candid, intimate
images of famous musical figures and artistic
acquaintances, including the master painter Marc
Chagall. And then a 2013 London exhibition featured
selections of his images that were reworked by
contemporary artists, including the famous political
cartoonist Gerald Scarfe. This demonstrates that
his work is taken seriously in the art world,
not just as a rock star's sideline. It all feeds
back into that obsession with documentation.
His bibliography is evidence of this. It spans
genres beyond just memoir. We see the historical
memoir, Stone Alone, Rolling with the Stones,
the musicology, Bill Wyman's Blues Odyssey, the
historical hobby, Treasure Islands, and the artistic
pursuit, Wyman Shoots Chagall. The uniqueness
of Bill Wyman is that he was the quiet one who
was also the most prolific. He cultivated this
vibrant, intellectually stimulating life outside
the main event, ensuring that his identity was
never solely tied to his famous band. And that
freedom is what allowed him to leave on his own
terms. When we examine the personal chronicle,
we find a character who was outwardly disciplined
and stable. But whose private life was subject
to some... Pretty high -profile drama. Absolutely.
Wyman himself acknowledged this contrast, stating
that while he was generally moderate in his use
of alcohol and drugs compared to his bandmates,
he admitted to becoming girl -mad. as a psychological
crutch during the chaos of the 60s his first
marriage was to diane corey from 1959 to 1969.
they had one son stephen and that marriage overlapped
with the very early intense years of stone's
touring and his memoir stone alone includes an
anecdote that perfectly captures the transient
almost surreal nature of being a 60s rock star
It's a story from Adelaide. Right. He recounted
a brief relationship during the 1965 Far East
tour in Adelaide, Australia. The following year,
he learned the woman had become pregnant. And
what was the outcome of that situation? The woman
chose to move to New Zealand to raise their daughter
privately, specifically to spare Wyman the hassle
and attention. He respected her witches, noting
in the 1990 edition of Stone Alone that he had
not heard from them since. Which shows a certain
distance and detachment that sometimes characterized
the personal relationships of that time. It does.
Then came the controversial chapter that dominated
British tabloids. His relationship and subsequent
marriage to Mandy Smith. He married Mandy Smith
in 1989. The relationship was highly publicized
due to the age gap. He was 52. She was 18. And
they separated only two years later and divorced
two years after that. And compounding the controversy
was the sourced claim that their sexual relationship
began when she was 14. This period remains the
most scrutinized and difficult part of his personal
history. But following that period, Wyman found
the stability he seems to have always craved,
marrying his third wife, model Susanna Costa,
in April 1993. And they had already known each
other for a long time. They met in 1980 and maintained
a friendship until their relationship became
romantic. They have three daughters together.
This marriage marked the beginning of his independent
life and his retirement from the Relentless Stones'
touring schedule. It did. However, before we
move on, we have to talk about the ultimate aha
moment buried deep in his personal chronicle.
The astonishing twist? The astonishing twist
involving his son and his ex -wife's mother.
This detail is truly mind -bending. A family
structure so complex, it sounds like a sociological
thought experiment. Tell us about the marriage
that happened in 1993. Okay. In 1993, the same
year, Wyman married Susanna Costa. His son, from
his first marriage, Stephen Wyman, who was 30
years old, married Patsy Smith, who was 46 years
old. And crucially. Crucially, Patsy Smith was
the mother of Wyman's ex -wife, Mandy Smith.
Wait, so his son married his former mother -in
-law? Precisely. Okay, my head is spinning. And
if you try to trace the resulting legal and familial
lines, the result is astonishing. Bill Wyman,
the father, became his own son's ex -son -in
-law. What? Furthermore, he became the father
-in -law of his ex -mother -in -law, Patsy Smith,
and, by extension, the step -grandfather of his
ex -wife, Mandy Smith. That is genuinely absurd.
It sounds like something only a meticulous chronicler
could keep track of. It certainly proves that
fact is stranger than fiction, especially when
dealing with rock stars and their extended families.
Wow. Let's shift to some of his less complicated
but equally revealing personal interests and
quirks. His sports fandom, for instance, is quite
passionate. He is a lifelong supporter of Crystal
Palace FC. The source provides a fantastic anecdote
that speaks volumes about his priorities. Right.
During the 1990 European tour with the Rolling
Stones, he felt he needed to be in London. Instead
of simply asking for time off. He feigned a toothache.
Claiming he needed an emergency dental flight
back to London. And what was the real emergency?
He flew back to London specifically to watch
Crystal Palace play at Wembley in the 1990 FA
Cup final. That commitment, risking the ire of
the Stones management and bandmates over a football
match, shows how intensely he compartmentalized
his personal life from his professional obligations.
He's also a keen cricket enthusiast. admiring
figures like Dennis Compton. The source even
mentions he managed to take a hat -trick three
wickets in three consecutive deliveries in a
celebrity match at the Oval. This dedication
to physical hobbies is paired with a focus on
his health later in life. After 55 years of smoking,
he finally quit in 2009. We also know that he
was diagnosed with prostate cancer in 2016. Though,
thankfully, the prognosis was for full recovery.
And finally, a detail that explains his eventual
complete departure from touring, the development
of a severe phobia. Around the time of the Steel
Wheels tour in the late 80s, he developed a significant
fear of flying. And for a musician in the world's
biggest touring band, developing aerophobia is
an insurmountable challenge. This phobia, coupled
with his desire to pursue his other intellectual
and artistic passions, provided the final logical
push toward leaving the band. He simply couldn't
sustain that life anymore. And his residences
reflect his success and longevity. He owns Getting
Hall. a remarkable country home in Suffolk that
dates all the way back to 1458. Providing that
grounded historical connection he craves. And
he also maintains a residence in Saint -Paul
-de -Vence in the south of France, where he is
embedded in that local artistic community. It's
the life of a Renaissance man. History, art,
and stability, all anchored in physical places
far removed from the global rock circus he spent
31 years documenting. Despite leaving officially
in 1993, Wyman's history with the Stones is so
deep that total separation seems impossible.
His reunion appearances, though rare, are always
treated as massive events. The most high -profile
appearances were the Rolling Stones' 50th anniversary
shows in London and Newark in 2012. These shows
were major historical moments. And while Daryl
Jones played the bulk of the set, Wyman was expected
to join the core members on stage. He did. He
played two back to back songs at the London shows.
It's only rock and roll, but I like it. And honky
tonk women. It was a powerful, symbolic moment
for the fans. But importantly, those cameos weren't
a signal of a full time return. No. Wyman later
stated quite clearly that he was simply not interested
in joining the band for further tour dates in
2013. He had moved past the rigorous touring
schedule and was content prioritizing his Rhythm
Kings and other pursuits. That independence is
consistent, but it makes his return to the studio
in 2023 for the Hackney Diamonds album all the
more significant. It's a huge moment. Wyman briefly
returned to recording with his former bandmates,
playing bass on one specific track, Live by the
Sword. This wasn't just a nostalgic gesture,
was it? Not at all. It was the band deliberately
utilizing the talents and historical connection
of their original anchor. And this marks his
first appearance on a Rolling Stones studio recording
since 1991. 32 years. The decision by Jagger
and Richards to call him back. 32 years after
he left, confirms that he isn't just an ex -member.
He is an honored veteran whose sound and presence
can still be utilized for historical milestones.
It cements his unique status. He can dip in and
out on his own terms. He retains the historical
connection without the professional obligation.
And the fact that he continues to create new
music independently reinforces that preference
for autonomy. Indeed. We should note his latest
solo album, Drive My Car, which was released
in August 2024. This means that at an advanced
age, he is still actively creating, writing,
and releasing music under his own name. Parallel
to making these selective guest appearances with
the Stones. So the synthesis here is clear. Bill
Lyman managed to negotiate the impossible. He
spent over 30 years anchoring one of the most
demanding jobs in music history, yet never lost
his core identity. He maintains an enduring connection
to the Stones for historical moments, as evidenced
by Hackney Diamonds. But by prioritizing the
Rhythm Kings, his photography, his writing, and
his new solo work, he ensured that he left on
his own terms and set a high standard for a musically
and intellectually vibrant post -Stones life.
Yeah. This deep dive into Bill Wyman reveals
a fascinating paradox. He was the steadfast,
innovative bass player, the one who modified
his fretless instrument to define the early...
Stone's deep R &B groove. And provided the crucial
anchor against the chaos. And he was simultaneously
the hyper -aware, meticulous chronicler, a respected
photographer, a published author, and an amateur
archaeologist who literally sought out and documented
history, ensuring that his life and the history
of the world's biggest band was archived with
painstaking detail in his journals. He defined
stability in the eye of the storm. We've explored
the man who, despite being the oldest and the
quietest member, held one of the most unique
and valuable perspectives on the biggest rock
band in the world. He was the anchor, the witness,
and the quiet revolutionary who ensured the most
important song of their career ever saw the light
of day. So we want to leave you with this final
provocative thought drawn directly from our source
material. Given that Bill Wyman possessed the
most comprehensive personal records of the Rolling
Stones' history and was instrumental in pushing
for the release of I Can't Get No Satisfaction
against the wishes of the core songwriters, what
other crucial band -defining moments throughout
rock history might have been decided not by the
spotlight -hogging frontman, but by the thoughtful,
disciplined historian keeping score and providing
stability in the background? The ultimate value
of the perpetual witness. The man with the diary.
and the homemade bass. It's a history lesson
we are perhaps still learning.