Why Mick Jagger’s biographer thinks the Rolling Stones singer is now the …

May 28, 2014 by admin
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By
Christopher Sandford

Published:

19:51 EST, 27 May 2014

|
Updated:

02:48 EST, 28 May 2014

Mick Jagger (left) and Keith Richards (right) from the Rolling Stones perform on the Pyramid Stage during Glastonbury 2013

Mick Jagger wore a silk paisley shirt and sequined jacket. Ronnie Wood a red leather jacket and skin-tight black trousers.

Keith Richards’s shock of white hair was held back by a blue silk bandana to match his blue bomber jacket.

As the Rolling Stones lurched on stage on Monday night in Oslo, fans nervously held their breath waiting to see if Richards would remember the first chords of the band’s opening number Jumpin’ Jack Flash.

They had reason to be anxious. Last July, at a concert in London’s Hyde Park, he had made a bit of a hash of it.

As the stage lights went up, many in the 65,000-strong crowd sang along lustily to the band’s opening number Start Me Up.

Unfortunately, in all the excitement, the legendary ‘Human Riff’, as he’s known, appeared to suffer a brief but catastrophic technical meltdown, and delivered a series of notes that belonged to another song altogether.

One of the few people present that night seemingly unfamiliar with the famous three-note intro to Start Me Up was the man who actually wrote it.

Of course, the Stones have always had a sort of ramshackle charm, and no one expects them to be over-rehearsed.

But to paraphrase Oscar Wilde: to mangle the opening number of one concert might be regarded as a misfortune; to do exactly the same thing again a week later, as Keith then did, begins to look like carelessness.

We all marvel at the Stones’ longevity. After 52 years together, they remain an extraordinary example of endurance in an industry that tends to throw its performers on the scrap heap in early middle age.

For many of us, who grew up listening to the Stones, there’s still a vicarious buzz in seeing the old codgers behaving badly.

Trailblazers: A 1969 photo of The Rolling Stones members (left to right) Bill Wyman, Charlie Watts, Mick Jagger, Mick Taylor and Keith Richards before their concert at Hyde Park

We want to be entertained by stories about them swaggering around crashing their cars and allegedly snorting the ashes of their late fathers.

It’s not just that the Stones refuse to grow up: they seem actually to live in a teenage time warp. What a sad lot most of today’s bands are by comparison.

In an era when most modern pop stars dress as if they work at Tesco and lecture us about climate change, the Stones are still out there in their skimpy T-shirts and leather trousers, chasing lingerie-clad teenagers.

Jagger performs during a concert in the Telenor Arena at Fornebu in Baerum just south of Oslo, Norway, on Monday

They are Britain’s favourite reprobates, for whom morality is pretty much whatever they want it to be.

But putting aside nostalgia for the Stones in their heyday, are they actually that good any more? Or could it be time for these septuagenarians to do the dignified thing and retire?

It’s not just that the Stones themselves are obviously older – at 70, Mick Jagger recently became a great-grandfather – but that their shows increasingly seem to resemble a Las Vegas revue.

There are lashings of fireworks and other effects, dozens of props for Mick to play with, scores of costume changes, and more than twice as many back-up musicians as there are actual band members on stage.

As I know from my experience as Mick Jagger’s biographer, it’s all a long way from their roots in smoke-filled rooms like the Ealing Jazz Club.

Improvisation and spontaneity have been lost entirely. When Keith recently launched into an apparently impromptu number at an arena in California, a crew of backstage technicians had to frantically reload the lighting program to accompany him.

Strip away the mystique and the critical goodwill that surround the Stones, and you’re left with some oddly clumsy versions of their classic songs.

Compared with its sleek studio version, Honky Tonk Women nowadays lumbers badly – one critic compared it to a heavy-goods lorry, as opposed to the original Ferrari – while the likes of Brown Sugar have been dumbed-down into a metallic din with a few shouted variants of the chorus.

Mick Jagger may be a glorious one-man rebellion against the march of time, but even he isn’t the performer he once was.

Nowadays Jagger’s default move on stage is to pace from one wing to another, often while flicking his fingers irritably from side to side, as if attempting to dry them in a public lavatory without a towel. He has become the Albert Steptoe of rock ‘n’ roll.

It takes a certain suspension of disbelief to watch a band led by a knight of the realm and composed of four cricket-loving millionaires as they plough their way through Street Fighting Man or Sympathy For The Devil.

Even the most devoted fans, however, have questioned Jagger’s decision to embark on yet another European tour this week, just over two months after L’Wren Scott’s apparent suicide

Perhaps what we’re really applauding is what the Stones once represented – youth, rebellion, freedom – rather than the pristine quality of the music. During their last performance at the O2 Arena in London, Keith received a standing ovation merely for lighting up a cigarette.

In recent years, the Stones have been plagued by a bewildering variety of problems – many of them typical of men of pensionable age. Richards fell off a ladder in his library, cracking several ribs in the process.

Mick Jagger had to pull out of one concert because of laryngitis. More shows were cancelled when Keith hit his head on a tree trunk when he fell on a beach in Fiji, and subsequently underwent life-saving brain surgery.

Then, a blow from which many thought the Stones couldn’t possibly recover. In March, they cancelled seven concerts in Australia and New Zealand after the tragic death of Jagger’s long-time partner L’Wren Scott.

Many thought this would finally persuade Mick Jagger to hang up his skinny jeans. But the one constant factor through the decades has been Sir Mick’s single-minded determination to keep the show on the road.

Mick Jagger, then 25, and actress Marianne Faithfull, 22, leaving a house in Chelsea, London

In his 70s, he has become almost Churchillian in his defiance of whatever obstacles cross his path. In November 2006, Jagger put on a brave face when performing in front of a sold-out crowd in Las Vegas just hours after his beloved father Joe had died in London, aged 93.

During the same tour, the Stones went on stage in New York moments after their long-time friend and former record company president Ahmet Ertegun, 83, had slipped and hit his head in their backstage hospitality suite.

in July 1969, the Stones famously went on stage in front of 300,000 people in Hyde Park, just two days after their founding member Brian Jones had drowned in his swimming pool

Ertegun fell into a coma and died without regaining consciousness six weeks later. Even the most devoted fans, however, have questioned Jagger’s decision to embark on yet another European tour this week, just over two months after L’Wren Scott’s apparent suicide.

Will nothing, no tragedy, no physical setback, persuade Jagger to leave the stage? Perhaps it is just Mick’s way of coping.

Back in July 1969, the Stones famously went on stage in front of 300,000 people in Hyde Park, just two days after their founding member Brian Jones had drowned in his swimming pool.

Thirty-six hours later, in Sydney to make a film, Jagger’s girlfriend Marianne Faithfull took a nearly-fatal overdose of sleeping pills. He helped to save her life.

Mick then wandered off by himself with a guitar and wrote the classic Stones rave-up Brown Sugar, before giving orders for the band to prepare to tour America.

At a concert at Altamont in northern California later that year, where Hells Angels had been hired as bodyguards, a young fan, Meredith Hunter, was stabbed to death.

The Stones were aware that there had been a scuffle, but weren’t told of its tragic consequence until later. They played on. They always do. Many of the Stones’ fans will be cheering this week, happy to see this rock ‘n’ roll institution back on stage.

Going to their concerts has become increasingly like visiting an ancient stately home, impressive for what it represents, whatever its present state of ruin.

Others fear that the Stones are now beginning to look like Elvis Presley in his last days – still more-or-less intact, but tottering on the brink of something really embarrassing.

Christopher Sandford’s The Rolling Stones: Fifty Years (Simon Schuster) is available now.

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HubbaBuba,

Toronto, Canada,

5 hours ago

I saw them and traveled a great distance in summer 1986. THAT tour add (and impetous for traveling) was the “Last Rolling Stones Tour” to see them. 28 years of lies since. I wouldn’t see them no matter what. Respect? LOOOOOOOOOONG gone.

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