Forleden døde countryikonet George Jones. Jeg har ikke andet end et overfladisk forhold til ham, derfor skrev jeg ikke noget på dagen. Men Keith Richard har skrevet et mindeord, der nok er værd at dele med andre. Fuld af veneration og identifikation. En rune fra en særling til en anden. Brødre i ånden.

George Jones has left us. We have lost one of the most individual singers of all time. I cannot express the emptiness I feel. George was as country as it can get, but he was beyond any bag you want to put him in. He was pure American music without ever waving a flag – you can hear a million imitations on the radio every day – but there was, and ever will be, only one George Jones. He possessed the most touching voice, the most expressive ways of projecting that beautiful instrument of anyone I can call to mind. You heard his heart in every note he sang. Sinatra called him the second best singer ever. (The number one obviously being Frank!). I would contest that. I truly loved ‘the possum.’ He was a crazy as me, and just as free… and, oh boy, could he hang. Keith Richard i Rolling Stone