Rolling Stones - Rod Laver Arena, Tuesday February 25th
Is Start Me Up the Best Song Ever Written for an Arena Rock Concert, EVER? It just might be: with those unmistakable chords, the worlds’ greatest rock and roll road show rolls into Melbourne town on a late summer’s evening. Questions of relevancy, age and competency are quickly vapourised as the worlds’ coolest knight, Mick Jagger, cakewalks his way up and down the stage like Rudolf Nureyev in an evangelical holy-ghost-trance. The ever-dependable Charlie Watts beats the drums like a suburban accountant, occasionally looking at Mick as if to say, ‘there he goes again’. Ron Wood jives like he’s stuck in a party in 1987 and everyone’s invited, his yellow jacket streaking around the stage like ball lightning. And Keith Richards… oh, Keith Richards. When he plays that incredible plangent, watery refrain after Mick pleads, “I can’t compete” he handles his guitar like a panther writhing on a hot tin roof. And all this within the first song. It’s going to be a good night. After an energetic It’s Only Rock & Roll and If You Can’t Rock Me, Jagger straps on his own Telecaster - the man in the row behind remarks, “I bet he’d like a cup of tea!” – and he announces the new song from ‘Forty Licks’, Don’t Stop. On record it is a paean to some unseen spitfire (probably Luciana Morad or Sophie Dahl, maybe Jerry Hall or Bianca…), on stage and out of context it is strangely poignant and moving, country-tinged and anthemic. When Jagger sings “don’t you dump me on some dusty street / and hang me out to dry” you can hear the sadness of a man staring into the abyss of his twilight years and hoping for a fourth wind to keep him moving. Ron Wood’s sublime guitar lyricism adds to the sweet pain. After brief respite from the reflection in the form of
a fabulously hysterical Rocks Off, Richards plays the heartbreakingly
beautiful intro to Wild Horses. What can you say about that song? While Jagger leaves the stage (to have a cup of tea, presumably), Keith gets a chance to take lead vocals duties, most successfully on Slipping Away. The man in the ‘Talk Is Cheap’ t-shirt is particularly excited. But soon Jagger is back in a new shirt, and they power through Sympathy For The Devil, Honkytonk Woman, and of course, Satisfaction. They all get a bit carried away, and the set drifts into indulgence. It seems long-winded jams can be tiresome whether you are a Tuesday night residency pub band, or the world’s greatest. All is forgiven soon after, when the Stones file down the long catwalk to the squat little stage in the middle of the crowd. They play an electrifying When The Whip Comes Down, and a supercharged version of Like A Rolling Stone, and finish with Brown Sugar, which brings the house down. Jagger leaps around, and Richards vogues with his guitar like he’s Mick’s slinky alter ego. Their chemistry is electrifying – perhaps it’s the power of seeing two best friends who have managed to make an empire out of what they dreamed about doing when they were young boys. The encore is Jumpin’ Jack Flash, which sees people dancing in the aisles and waving their hands in the air. Then just as suddenly as it began, amidst the glitter cannons and klieg lights, it is all over, yet another rock and roll dream or memory in the hearts of thousands. People have complained that the Stones are too old to
be playing rock anymore, but it is their years of life experience which
give these already powerful songs new found meaning. Not to mention the
fact that as musicians they are playing better and tighter than ever.
Put simply, you can’t, in good conscience, call any of the new rock
opportunists The Greatest Band In The World when that name is still rightly
owned by The Rolling Stones. As they said in Record Mirror in 1970, “The
Stones have won”. Game not yet over.
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