Re: Sam Cutler on the Brisbane Show
Date: November 21, 2014 03:59
GETTING THRU THE BUCKET LIST - GOING TO SEE THE ROLLING STONES:
PART TWO:
Having been 'generously feted' with my sons backstage by the Rolling Stones, I must admit I needed to sit down, take a deep breath, gather what was left of my senses, and generally 'get it together'. I was more or less hornswoggled, and very slightly dizzy. My two strapping sons escorted the poor old fella (me) down into the bowels of the huge auditorium to our seats that were spectacularly close to the front - if they had been any closer we'd have been on stage! We were right against the barrier surrounding the walkway down which Mick would later prance his dance, and I was amused by the security as we sat down who instructed me and my sons (and some rather plump ladies) not on any account to mount the barricades. I mean! Who did they think we were? Revolutionaries? The audience that were closest to me looked barely capable of crossing a road, and the thought of them attempting to jump the barricade was patently absurd. Still, fair enough, middle-aged women have been known to do the most unlikely things when Mick is close by, though the high jump (I doubt) is one of them! We settled down. I regained my equilibrium. My sons went to the toilets to get rid of all the free beer they'd consumed. I looked around. Needless to say there wasn't an empty seat in the house. The show was about to begin. My sons returned in the nick of time.
A man came out on stage, and at ear-splitting volume he screamed into the microphone, The Rolling Stones! The place went nuts, I sneered to myself at the amateur introduction that sounded like the pearly scream of an overly excited schoolgirl, and before any further thought was possible the band launched into a particularly ragged beginning to Jumping Jack Flash. Jumping Jack Crash more like it I giggled to myself, but no matter, The Stones were here, on stage, in front of us all, and what Samuel Taylor Coleridge called "the willing suspension of disbelief" kicked in with a happy vengeance.
Who cares if it’s slightly wonky, who cares if it's struggling to get going? It's The Rolling Stones and we love them I could feel thousands of people saying to themselves, as a positive wave of generosity swept from the audience to the stage engulfing the musicians in joyful gratitude for their very presence. The audience were all smiling, the musicians were all smiling, hell even I was smiling! The beginning of the show felt like a form of mass inoculation where we were all once again protected from the cares of the world (if only for an evening) by a big shot of the medicine that is rock and roll.
Before I could get too analytical The Stones launched into It’s Only Rock n Roll and it was a perfect reminder that this is happy escapism writ large – it’s fun, it aint that serious, and yes we like it, yes we do! I studied Mick’s face in glorious color on the video screen – he looked a little unwell to me. A trifle stressed, but then that goes with the territory – it’s a stressful job being someone like Mick. Before going on stage he isolates himself for several hours, sees no-one, and does the things that all singers have to do, namely warm ups (the voice is a muscle and needs to be cared for) and that search for the energy which is a necessary part and parcel of being a world famous entertainer. For years I have had my differences with him but I have never failed to admire him – he is a giant amongst contemporary artists and where he gets the energy from is beyond me.
Mick strutted around on the stage, cajoling the troops and encouraging everyone and The Stones lumbered into You Got Me Rocking and they were actually doing some rocking! Keith kept punching the air triumphantly and blocking out massively overpowering chords and grinning at Ronnie, whilst the impish Ronnie blasted away quite happily with a fag between his lips. (That’s a cigarette for you Americans reading this!)
By the time they hit Tumbling Dice the band was together and sounding hot with the guitars at blistering volume and the keyboards cutting through everything and driving it crisply forward. Then Mick, in a slightly unconvincing explanation, announced that ‘the audience’ had chosen for the band to perform Silver Train, and off they went out of the station and I was happy as Larry. I have never heard them perform it live and whilst it was ragged it was wonderful, made more so by the presence of Mick Taylor invited on stage to add to the overall scrunching levels of the guitars. It was, needless to say, deafening!
Bitch, and Paint it Black, rolled around the auditorium making me feel slightly dizzy, and with my sons exhorting me to “get up and shake my bootie”, I confess to feeling a trifle drained. Then the magic opening chords of Honkey Tonk Woman electrified the building, re-energized me, and off we went with the whole audience merrily joining in the chorus and band and everyone else grinning happily. I have never seen the Stones look so happy, feel so happy, and make it so obvious to one and all that they were genuinely having a ball.
Mick departed the stage and Keith stepped forward to the microphone to thunderous applause and we were treated to You Got The Silver – Keith really is loved by the fans, and sings with a soulfulness that belies his sometimes overly cynical public persona. Feeling and warmth oozed from his vocals and he seemed genuinely gratified by the response he got. Keith, beneath it all, is actually a humble and decent guy, who never takes anything for granted, his smile when the audience applauded wildly was a million miles wide. His three songs were really special and the audience and band showered him with well -deserved affection. He reciprocated (again) with monumental grins and backslapping and hugs all round and it was obvious he was having a wonderful time.
Meanwhile, the enigmatic and ever-stylish Mr. Charlie Watts sat behind his diminutive drum set smiling ever so slightly at one and all and supervising the proceedings with that air of quiet authority that comes from long years of not only being the reliable anchor for the music but equally the foundation upon which the whole edifice of the Rolling Stones rests. One can just see Charlie as the person in the outfit to whom the others turn in times of need – he has about him that certitude of the inherently good person, of the noble and the fine. It is so obvious that all the guys in the band not only love Charlie but rely heavily on him on so many levels, and as he plays you can see him giving subtle encouragement to his mates with a slight inclination of his head, a shy smile, and even to Keith at one stage a shit-eating grin as they brought a number to a miraculously coordinated halt.
Sir Michael arrived back on stage and the band went into as raunchy a version of Midnight Rambler as I have ever heard, with Mick sportingly inviting Mick Taylor up on stage. The Stones with three guitar players chugging along sounded as tight as a duck’s bum. Everyone knows a duck’s bum is watertight! Mick (the knight of the realm) seems to have cut back on the ‘theatricals’ in Rambler, and did a harp duet with Mick ‘Lord’ Taylor that would have rocked the aristocracy to its almost withered roots. It was stunning, with Mick blowing the harp and staring into his guitar player’s eyes with something that looked like adoration. He too cracked a smile as wide as the Nile when the collaboration ended and he resumed his front man duties, and M.T. simply returned to playing with the air of a man that CAN get some satisfaction.
Gimme Shelter shone with a rare distinction aided by Lisa Fischer’s belting and impassioned vocals. I remembered being in Los Angeles and hearing Merry Clayton sing the vocals as an overdub some forty six years ago, and to hear a woman of equal vocal dynamism backing Mick in a live venue was a treat that I’ll never forget. All the sense of impending disaster and of potential doom inherent in the song’s lyrics were emphasized with a frightening passion – one thing the Rolling Stones have learnt is that “it’s just a shot away”. The dividing line between success and catastrophe is indeed a fine line, sometimes so fine as to be virtually invisible.
The music rolled on, the years slipped away. Between Chuck Leavel on keyboards and Charlie on the drums this very special rhythm and blues band were as tight and purposeful as any I have ever heard. It was a masterful performance. Brown Sugar and Satisfaction were my particular favorites, but then I loved it all. For all those who sneer at Keith and Ronnie’s relative skills on guitar all I can say is that you should have witnessed THIS performance. Ronnie’s slide guitar work on Midnight Rambler, Keith on Honky Tonk Woman and Gimme Shelter, were as good as I have ever heard them. Mick Taylor was sublime, and it was noticeable that whenever he was on stage everyone ever so slightly ‘lifted the game’.
To borrow and slightly change a phrase of Picasso’s (referring to painting) I have to say that, “Talking about music is like dancing about Architecture”. You had to have been at this particular gig to dig where the music was coming from. To summarize this is what I reckon. I have never seen the musicians looking healthier or happier or sounding better. It was a highlight of my life to have heard the concert and to have been able to introduce my sons to the band. (Thanks Charlie for arranging things). This ‘report’ would have been posted sooner but for the fact that today was my son’s High School graduation ceremony. Now how many sons can say they met the Rolling Stones AND graduated from High School all in the same week? And how many fathers can say they attended those two events and feel so grateful that they’re no longer sure as to whether they’re coming or going? As that other wonderful band used to say: “what a long strange trip it’s been!”