Becoming Keef: How I Became Keith Richards

The invitation arrived like a shot of pure adrenaline: “We need you to step into Keith Richards’ shoes for our upcoming Rolling Stones tribute.” In that moment, I saw it all—the weathered Telecaster, the unruly hair, the unmistakable swagger—and yet beneath the surface lay a tangle of logistical puzzles. How many guitars would I need? Would I really have to sacrifice my bottom string? And most urgent of all, how could I make those iconic riffs come alive without a backstage army of techs?

I dove headfirst into the Stones’ catalog, not content to simply nod along to the studio cuts. The live concerts, every alternate take became a lesson in Richards’ restless creativity. It didn’t take long to realize that while Open G dominates the hits—think “Brown Sugar” and “Start Me Up”—more than half of Keith’s repertoire lives in standard tuning, peppered with unexpected chord voicings. Interestingly, versions of the same song could shift tunings from one performance to the next. Confronted with this shifting landscape, I pinpointed my remaining mysteries and prepared to crack the code.

The breakthrough came courtesy of a humble $20 capo. By planting that little clamp on the neck, I learned to unlock Open E and Open D songs together without swapping instruments. I settled on a three-guitar rig: a standard-tuned Telecaster for the anthems that never stray, an alternate-tuned guitar for these specialties, and a standard acoustic guitar outfitted with a capo. Now, instead of hauling a closet’s worth of axes, I simply re-tune during set breaks and move on, preserving the momentum and keeping the audience none the wiser.

Fellow guitarists often press me for secrets—how I juggle so many tunings with just a handful of guitars and a single capo. Behind the scenes, it’s a straightforward checklist—spare strings, a trusty tuner, a purposefully organized set list arranged for each tuning, and that ever-faithful capo—keeps me locked in and ready to roll.

Five years into channeling Keith Richards, I’ve discovered that his open-tuning magic is elegantly simple until it demands precision and nuance. Songs like “Can’t You Hear Me Knocking” defy any one-size-fits-all approach, forcing you to think beyond the formula. If you’re about to don Keef’s signature style, arm yourself with meticulous research, a versatile capo, and the willingness to embrace controlled chaos onstage. Above all, don’t just mimic the legend—internalize his adventurous spirit, then strap on that Telecaster and make every riff your own.