ILL COMMUNICATION
Now they’re ready to celebrate that legacy… just don’t expect them to act like grown-ups.
In a private dining room at a decadent London hotel, the two surviving Beastie Boys have a look of mischief in their eyes. “I’m gonna steal some shit,” says Adam ‘Ad-Rock’ Horovitz, slyly scanning the set-up. It’s the kind of place with leather chairs, crystal chandeliers and gold chalices on silver coasters. Adam gravitates straight towards the coffee machine, rifling through a load of Nespresso pods, pausing to squint at their labels before stuffing them in his pockets. “I’m about to grab a good grip of these shits… but don’t tell anyone.”
“What are you taking, Adam? What are you gonna steal right now?” says Michael ‘Mike D’ Diamond, his friend and collaborator since 1981, with an air of mock indignation. “I’m gonna announce whatever you take in this interview so that people know. Huck is read by a lot of crime sleuths. It’s very popular amongst that set.”
Mike slides a green parka jacket off his lanky frame, stifles a yawn and immediately hones in on something else. “What’s in this special little glass box?” he says, leaning in to lift its lid. “Ooh, look!” The 53-year-old pulls out a handful of chocolates, unwrapping a miniature Galaxy bar. “I’m havin’ this. I’m goin’ in. I don’t give a fuck right now, know what I’m sayin’?”
The pair have been in the room less than a minute and already it’s just what you’d want from the Beastie Boys: the shenanigans, the dry wit, the ability to riff off each other incessantly. They’ve spent much of the last five years trying to distil that dynamic into a book about the band. What they came up with is a 550-page meta memoir that splinters into mixtape playlists, recipes, photo archives, a comic strip, maps and diagrams, chapters by guest contributors as well as layers of annotations that capture their personalities.
But it also serves as
