"I was going to write an autobiography once," Jeff Beck says with a laugh. "I started writing it, and then I thought, ‘No, let them dig around when I’m dead.’"
It’s a late April day, and the guitarist, age 73, is reclining comfortably in a black chair in his Tribeca hotel suite. It’s a big room with a fireplace and a table with bowls of fruit and candy bars on it. He’s dressed casually in a striped hoodie-like shirt and alternates between drinking cappuccino and Evian. It’s good to be Jeff Beck, and he has the proof.
He might not be writing his memoirs, but he recently…
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