The Stones at Sixty
My first exposure to music was sitting in the back of my parents’ car. In my memory, it’s always summer time and it’s about to reach the boiling point inside the old Ford Taurus because of my father’s refusal to turn on the AC. I’m 5 foot 7, 275 pounds at eight years old. A behemoth of a boy. The air pressure in the tires on my side of the vehicle is definitely LOW. I’m about to tip the damn thing over on its side. My dad is playing Frank Sinatra or Rosemary Clooney or something similar. Now, don’t get me wrong- I’m an adult now and I love me some RC, but when you’re a kid its hard to really dig songs about the loneliness that accompanies hereditary alcoholism. Sometimes they’d turn the CDs off and put on the radio, which was always the same station: Oldies 103.3. When they found out how to pre-set the station numbers the first three options were Oldies 103.3. Hit 1 for Oldies 103.3. Hit 2 for Oldies 103.3. And so on. Oldies played some hits, but as far as I can remember they only played one rock n’ roll song and that was “Satisfaction” by The Rolling Stones.
When I heard them for the first time it was like a new color got unlocked in the universe. It felt like someone was sending me a message from thirty years in the past to tell me there was something else out there. Something for me. I’m sure that many people had similar experiences the first time they heard The Beatles or Buckcherry, but for me it was The Stones. I asked my father who sang the song and his reaction was something like this:
“The Rolling Stones. Mick Jagger. Crazy as a bed tick.”
I love my dad, but when you’re a child you tend to take your elder’s condemnation of someone as a recommendation to investigate further. I needed to find out who this crazy guy singing about “how white his shirts could be” was. It wasn’t as easy to research in the ‘90s, and so I think the first time I saw them was in some retrospective documentary about the 1960’s. I was surprised how much Mick Jagger only looked like one thing: Mick Jagger. No one else in the fucking world looks like that. And even more unique than his face was the way he danced. Even as a giant, awkward, nerd I knew that’s not how you were supposed to dance. It was an abomination. But it was also mesmerizing. Irresistible.
I kind of just had to wait to be exposed to more Stones music. I was a jobless child with no means of transportation and age restricted AOL internet. Thankfully, along came Martin Scorsese movies and then LimeWire and iTunes and by the time I got to college, there was YouTube. You could sit and watch old footage of them any time you wanted.
In my early twenties, for lack of anything better to do, I decided to base my whole personality on them. The issue was that I couldn’t sing or play an instrument and looked horrible with long hair. I tried to grow it out but every time I did, I looked more and more like the Crypt Keeper. I eventually realized though, that I didn’t need to be The Rolling Stones. I just needed them. Sometimes, if you’re lucky enough, music can save you.
It was beginning to look like an impossibility that I’d ever see them in person, but I happened to find myself living in London and The Stones happened to be playing at Hyde Park, the spot of their famous 1969 concert “The Stones at the Park”. The 69 concert took place after Brian Jones’ death and the concert this past Saturday was taking place a few months after drummer Charlie Watts’. Two very different situations. Jones, forever 27, succumbed to his demons. Watts, living a long blessed life, falling victim to the inevitable end that awaits us all. And yet, Mick was still up there with Keith and Ronnie, defiant. We’ll all come and we’ll all go but you have to make the most of it while you’re here. At age 78, Jagger and the gang are still making the most of it.
I have to admit that I was afraid going into the concert. I was afraid that I had waited too long. That Mick wouldn’t be able to sing and Keith and Ronnie wouldn’t be able to hold their guitars. I was afraid they’d look like lost old men on the stage, and who could blame them if they did? When I’m in my late seventies the only thing I’ll be able to do is sit hunched over and eat a big bowl of slop. But it turns out I had no reason to fear. They killed it. And what was the song of the night? “Satisfaction” of course. It normally doesn’t even rank in my top ten favorite Stones songs, but it did that night. Maybe I’m biased. Maybe I was remembering being eight years old again.
My biggest take-away from the night though, wasn’t The Rolling Stones or how fucking good they sounded. My biggest take-away from the night was that we’re all just looking for some sense of community. Nowadays, people can look for that feeling of belonging on increasingly dark corners of the internet. Pack mentality can destroy us and it’s looking more and more likely that it will. But on Saturday, as I saw people of all ages, races, and nationalities in Stones gear- entire families wearing the same shirts as if they were the Old Navy Fourth of July shirts your mom used to make you put on- and I found the endearing part of humans again. It’s okay to love something and to be a little goofy and uncool and come together and celebrate with people who feel and act the same. It’s okay to dance like an idiot because the guy on stage is dancing even worse than you are. Maybe I’m naïve. Maybe it’s all fucking over and I don’t want to admit it but, I think the majority of people just want to be happy and to be happy with others. On Saturday, it felt like that was still possible.