It's Only Rock'n Roll
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It's Only Rock'n Roll |
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Stones
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Tour 2024 |
Mick Jagger |
Keith Richards |
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Ronnie
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Band 2
Tim Ries |
Live pre/post show comments:
The first couple of songs went by in a flash, especially “Get Off of My Cloud,” while “Angry” was knocked off in haphazard fashion. Things slowed for a couple of ballads, with “She's a Rainbow” predictably beating “Bite My Head Off” and others for the vote slot. The civilians around me didn't seem overly receptive to the new material, which is surprising for a so-called Stones city.
Or maybe it's because the pit was packed and much of the show was a survival test. It didn't help that everyone seemed to be well over six feet. It was like being in Amsterdam. Still, Chicago seems to have been the meeting point of superfans from around the world. It was great to see old chums from as far away as Khandallah and Titirangi and as near as River Forest and Dixon, Ill.
“Tumbling Dice,” of all songs, got things going again. You could tell how the crowd's energy surged during this performance. It's funny - I never really pay much attention to this song.
Once again Keith delivered a stirring three-pack. He was clearly thrilled to be in Chicago, spending much of the evening smiling sweetly. His “Start Me Up” intro might have been cringeworthy, but he quickly recovered and delivered some blistering power riffs in “IORR” and the aforementioned “Dice.”
“Miss You” was replaced by a rather cursory “Midnight Rambler,” which was then followed by an underwhelming “Gimme Shelter.” The best of the war horses was easily “Jumpin' Jack Flash,” for which I removed my earplugs only for my ear drums to explode. God, it was loud. Not shrill, just a tsunami of industrial chaos. I strongly advise folks to bring protection.
Mick made much use of the catwalk, and was in much better voice. While another octogenarian was having a dismal evening, Mick reminded us to vote in November, but I wonder if he'll get around to voting next week. His jokes were weak, one about Viagra another about Chicago pizza. But he did name check Muddy Waters, Chuck Berry and Howlin' Wolf, and improvised Sweet Home Chicago during “Midnight Rambler.”
I really enjoyed Bettye LaVette (with an uncredited Chuck Leavell furtively helping out), rocking a Yoko Ono look as she moonwalked all over Mick's sacred catwalk. Definitely worth catching in more comfortable surrounds.
We could tell early on that it would be still another of those special nights and the reason we all make the effort we do to be there. Mick was very active with his "comments" during the intros and between lines of songs. The "here we go!" type comments when he was about to start his vocals or come out of the bridge were more present than usual. Even during the absolutely amazing version of Rambler, Mick has clearly having fun alternating between quick "lines" on the harmonica and vocals. It was clear that he was enjoying almost as much as all of us did, and that is saying something.
On this tour, we have seen Keith tend to stay within his space way more than past tours. But not on this night. We was coming down the middle ramp more often, and even ventured all the way to side ramp during Sympathy. Other than sitting for the start of Gimme Shelter (as he has been doing at recent shows), he was moving around and showing the joy like he did 20+ years ago throughout this amazing night.
This was, as Mick pointed out, the Stones' 40th show in Chicago. He didn't point out that this show makes Soldier Field their most played venue in Chicago, going back to 1978.
Get Off Of My Cloud generated even more audience participation than usual and was a more compact version than recent shows, which probably explains why it was done during the soundcheck. She's A Rainbow was their choice for the vote winner, and was another solid performance. (Soldier Field in '97 was the first place they ever performed it live.)
My first time catching Mess It Up live and I continue to love how much better it is live than the studio version. The Keith set was, again, 3 songs, and he was even more enthusiastic about all 3 songs. The guitar work between he and Ronnie on this tune continues to be fantastic. Little T & A gets even better of late, as he was putting everything into the riff throughout the song, with an especially strong ending.
The highlight, of course, was an incredible version of Midnight Rambler! During the middle part, Mick did a couple of lines from "Sweet Home Chicago", making an amazing version a one of a kind. Although I'll be seeing two more shows from this tour, I'm not sure even Mick and the boys can top those 11 minutes from here on. This version was, to quote from earlier in this magical evening, enough to "make a grown man cry" because it simply could not get any better.
Gimme Shelter would have been the highlight of just about any other night. It all went perfectly, and the ab-libs that make the song unique every night passed with flying colors.
Having "Sweet Sounds of Heaven" back in the setlist (that's 2 shows in a row) was the perfect fit for the Chicago crowd loving the blues. They did pause between the end of Sweet and the start of Satisfaction, which seemed to bother Keith because he flubbed the opening riff. However, the show ended the way it started, because, once again, Keith also again messed up the opening riff on Start Me Up at the opening. But as long as he performed like he did throughout, a couple of off notes can't even come close to being a factor on such a wonderful night!
After a few days break, the Stones wagon train rolled in from the prairies and into the home of the electric blues, Chicago. The windy city was living up to it’s name earlier in the day, although the weather was ideal for a gig: sunny, dry, even if a little chilly at showtime. The city that became famous through livestock sales, then heavy industry, then gangsters, and then music, hosted it’s 40th Rolling Stones show in 60 years. They call one of the main downtown areas the Magnificent Mile – well this was yet another magnificent show.
It is becoming even more difficult to rank the shows this year. Is this sycophancy? Is it a lack of objective judgement? Is it the author’s incompetence? Well possibly a bit of each, who can say. What I can say is that the energy and enthusiasm in the performance was very high all through the 2 hour show. I’m sure the lower altitude compared to Denver, and the cool lakeside air helped, but when the band comes on stage to be welcome by a big, engaged crowd; the opening riff of Start Me Up sounds out; and Mick bounds out from behind the amps and drums… well it is like turning up the volume to maximum.
On this night Keith tried out a slightly different version of the first riff on that first song, quickly reverting to the standard version. Ronnie played a more interesting solo than usual, and the show had started with a bang. A very quick guitar change, accompanied by a firm drum beat, heralded the return of Get Off Of My Cloud. The crowd was singing along magnificently, although many sang along with Mick rather than singing the responses (Mick sings “hey” and we should then sing “hey” in response… but who cares when you’re enjoying yourself). Many arms and fingers were thrust into the air, imitating Mick’s urgent gestures.
IORR followed, Mick again finding it tricky to cue his first words as Keith played a slightly different length Berry-lick to start off the song. Keith played a really tight Chuck-style solo only a few city blocks from where, as Mick mentioned, in their first visit to this city they met Mr Berry himself, plus Muddy Waters and Howling Wolf. That must have been an awesome experience for a bunch of young kids, plus Bill, from London. Angry completed the “more fast numbers” start to the show. Enthusiastic vocals from Ronnie on this, and from Chuck Leavell on all songs this evening.
The Song Vote choice, not surprisingly to those monitoring Instagram, was She’s a Rainbow. Chuck was playing very nicely, looking imperiously over the whole stage, including watching Bernard and Chanel when they are singing the “ooh la la la la “ backing vocals towards the end of the song. I am still hoping for another rare cut from Satanic Majesties to be played live, but I suppose that is looking rather unlikely.. Wild Horses made it’s sixth appearance this year. This felt a little bit more “acoustic” than previous outings, despite no acoustic guitars on stage on this song. Ronnie played more extended, very sweet, licks and a similarly good solo. Keith’s open-G guitar drove the song very nicely, and his vocals were very loud and his face showing real emotion as he sang. People swayed and danced in the crowd, as did Bernard and Chanel on stage.
Talking about swaying people, several people near me clearly didn’t value the $600 that they paid for the Pit to listen to the greatest rock’n’roll band we’ll ever see. They over-consumed; sway and tottered; and finally keeled-over. The security and medics, even their friends, were very fast to recover the fallen: their pace and care was very noticeable. I found all the staff in the 100 year-old Soldier Field very friendly and helpful – a real Chicago welcome.
Mess it Up, Dice and YCAGWYW completed the first Act of the show. The former I really like live: great bass from Darryl. The horns really complete Dice, and indeed almost all Keith’s songs. Tim and Karl play a low profile, but vital, part in the band. Tim is not very low profile when he plays Organ on YCAGWYW – his hands stroking the keyboard are shown in massive size on the excellent video screens.
However… those video screens seem to be too far out of sync with the sound still. I am sure that they probably try and sync the two for people in the back half of the stadium, but the time delay seemed more appropriate for a car park behind the stadium to me. I am available for advice on this if needed!
Band introductions followed with one noticeable episode. Mick introduced Darryl, mentioning that he was “local boy made good”, and gave him a rare fist-punch. But in the process he forgot Chuck, only for Matt C gesturing with a piano playing mime to tell Mick he’d made this error. Mick and Chuck grinned at each other centre stage.
Keith received his usual big cheers when introduced, and played and sang nicely. He and Ronnie seem to really enjoying themselves on the Keith vocal spots. Ronnie got a two-verse guitar solo on Tell Me Straight, indicated by an encouraging nod from Keith, which Ronnie looked as pleased as punch to see. These songs are well rehearsed, but have flexibility wherever possible.
It is pretty clear now that Keith likes doing three songs; Mick’s voice doesn’t seem to need that interlude, but I’m sure he welcomes the longer break mid-set. It also means that we have now had two shows with 20 songs, and five shows in a row with the Keith vocal extravaganza. I was just reminded that it is very rare, maybe unique, to have a tour where the number of songs played increases mid-tour. They started this tour with 18 songs until Las Vegas.
We then had more great versions of Sympathy and Honky Tonk Women. On the latter Chuck has limbered-up enough to get his foot on the keyboard to complete his solo spot. Keith was so loud on Sympathy. Then we came to Rambler, the piece de resistance for many. Mick and Keith were smiling at each other, although I thought the harmonica solo was not as good as at other shows. The blues song in the slow section was “Sweet Home Chicago”, and Mick changed the Rambler vocals to replace “jump the garden wall” with “jump the kitchen door”: it is very dylanesque to change lyrics like that.
Shelter had its now customary intro with Keith playing sitting down until the pace (and volume) builds; and another great performance from Mick and Chanel out on the catwalk. She received an appreciative smile and rare mid-set comment from Mick, and great cheers from the audience. Paint It Black felt a little like playing by numbers, but I’m not really sure why. Then the main set ended with another highly-energised version of JJF. Mick was so busy dancing close to Chuck that he had to run across the stage to his microphone and even then missed his first lyrics – his second lyric slip this show, but who cares. This is the Stones and people like, nay expect, a little looseness.
The encore featured Satisfaction, another highly powered performance, preceded by Sweet Sounds of Heaven. Mick had to encourage the crowd to shine their cellphone lights (which soon illuminated the whole stadium), but did not vary the pace of the song. It feels like such a classic to me. Perhaps it’s the soul/gospel/Otis Redding feel; perhaps it’s the elegant keyboard and guitar work (both Chuck and Matt C playing delightfully); perhaps it is the superb vocals from Mick and Chanel (another mid-set bow). It was a super rendition, with a slightly different ending form the previous live outings.
So there you have it. Show number 14 on this tour, and another highly enjoyable evening. I could see that the band enjoyed it rather more than the other two gentlemen on CNN earlier. OK, enjoyed it a lot more. So did the capacity crowd. Getting two shows in one city always encourages a good setlist change, so we live in hope for a 40 th “new song on this tour” at the weekend.
I have used Lucky Dip tickets five or six times; this was the luckiest. My envelope contained two for Pit A (Ronnie’s side).
After entering the stadium, reaching the field, and being admitted to Pit A, I noticed that a few feet of railing, a bit past the start of the giant video screen, were open. We camped there. People were stacked 10 or 12 deep alongside the catwalk, but the area a few feet to the left was relatively open. Hot dog hawkers were able to peddle freely, and did so until about five minutes before the opening act began.
Bettye LaVette was a worthy performer. Customarily, I would pay a bit extra for a Stones show with no opening act (although the Corrs and John Lee Hooker, for example, were great; Pearl Jam was OK; and I wish I had seen George Thorogood). I would pay a bit more to avoid the Ghost Hounds. Bettye LaVette was an inspiration and revelation. I have enjoyed some of her work since returning from Chicago.
Between performances, I watched the camera operators prepare for the main show (using a level to calibrate the equipment’s pitch, for example) and marveled at how many people took the stage to remove opener equipment and prepare Stones equipment; it might have been fifty people.
Roughly twenty minutes before the Stones started, a boy walked from our left in the area ahead of us, between the stage and the crowd. He was alone and took one of the jump seats built into the stage barricade/railing. He seemed roughly the age at which my son began to join me at Stones concerts; it was noticeable that he was alone. He sat directly in front of me, so that I was looking down over his shoulder as I faced the stage. He was wearing a well-worn European tour shirt and a black jacket, from which he extracted a piece of paper. It was a setlist. Get Off Of My Cloud, It’s Only Rock ‘n’ Roll, Mess It Up, She’s a Rainbow, Wild Horses . . . no surprises for me after that – at least, not with respect to the setlist. (Did anyone notice that Ronnie’s drawn setlist seemed to have something written in green (perhaps an Am tune?) under Midnight Rambler?)
Just before showtime, a slight woman walked from the left and took the jump seat in front of me, which the boy had left when the woman approached. I have concluded this was Melanie Hambrick and that the boy – who spent several songs on her lap -- was Deveraux Jagger. Young Mr. Jagger demonstrated quite a collection of dance moves during the first half-dozen songs or so. Ron Wood threw a pick to Deveraux several times, each time seeming not to remember that he had done so just minutes ago. No one attempted to get the picks that had been thrown to Deveraux, even if they were on the ground for a minute or two. The boy collected so many that his mother encouraged him to give one to the girls who had arrived after the show began. These were Ronnie’s twins, accompanied by their mother, who took the jump seat to my right. Another woman on a jump seat was quite friendly with the children; I assumed this was another wife or girlfriend but I could not identify her. Ronnie was quite attentive to all of the children, seemingly excited to see them each time he traveled the wing. If Mick noticed the children, I didn’t notice that.
Keith missed a bit on his Start Me Up opening but, as occurred a few more times, didn’t dwell on it, soldiering on nicely. I knew the next song would be Get Off Of My Cloud so I focused on Steve’s interpretation of the original drum introduction.
Ron contributed more vocal than I remembered from Cleveland (as did Chuck). Bernard and Chanel were relatively close to me so I could appreciate how much they contribute to certain songs, creating a valuable studio version effect in some spots that could easily be overlooked.
Keith provided forceful and welcome “harmonies” on Wild Horses, focusing on them more than his fretboard as the song advanced.
Darryl’s bass was very prominent and “floppy” at times, something I did not recall hearing before. I enjoyed it.
There seemed a bit of a misstep between music and vocal as It’s Only Rock ‘n’ Roll began but those imperfections – much like Keith’s vocals, which are a highlight (like Dylan’s or Springsteen’s) despite never being mistaken for the work of the average lead in a high school musical – are no problem. It’s the glorious imperfection that sparkles and pleases this ear.
Keith used his teleprompter for lyrics occasionally. I had never noticed that before. Mick has become a master at relying on the screen without making it obvious or even particularly noticeable.
Mick added a few lines of “Sweet Home Chicago” to Midnight Rambler. I would have enjoyed a few more.
Several of the guitar solos seemed particularly strong, although they have become less expected and less aggressive over the years. The lads seem to be wearing less eye shadow these days, too. Keith’s hands appeared to be quite strong, although he might lean on a shortcut here and there across the fretboard.
I was surprised by how hard Mick threw his harmonicas to the stage floor. Does he break and replace them every night?
Mick is in inspirationally fine shape.
Next to the stage, the sound was loud and clear.
It was a great show. Catch it if you can.
.... rewinding 30 years back into 1994 ...
Roughly 30 years ago, I was offered two tickets to see the Stones by a tour sponsor. At first, I was offered but one ticket, because this was a ticket to spend time backstage before the show and meet the band. The sponsor – not my client, although I interacted with that company a great deal – knew I liked the Stones. I indicated I couldn’t go backstage without my seven-year-old son – who idolized Mick Jagger and had Halloweened as Jagger twice, carrying a small tape recorder to play “Start Me Up” while I sported a passable Keith Richards look as I accompanied my son's Mick for trick-or-treating. “Are you sure?” they asked in disbelief. I said I wouldn’t be able to look my son in the eye if I went without him and met the Stones.
A few days before the show, the sponsor called back. They had found another ticket, struck by my willingness to miss the chance rather than go without my son. We were to stand on a specified street corner outside the stadium hours before showtime, wearing a particular color shirt, ready to respond to a coded question with a coded answer. Soon, we were in the stadium’s bowels, following colored pinstripes on the walls to the “Voodoo Lounge,” which was stocked with pinball games, a snooker table, and the finest buffet I have ever seen (Vegas included).
I had not told my son what would occur, wishing to prevent any unforeseen disappointment, but he had begun to figure it out. He was asking, “is this where the Rolling Stones . . . “ when the band walked into the room.
I was struck by how slight they were and how much makeup they wore. I remember thinking how much of a drag it must be for Mick – wearing a light blue prom suit with dark blue piping, a ruffled shirt, single-stripe pants and leather platform shoes with enormous silver buckles -- to walk around in his ridiculous stage outfit hours before showtime.
Ronnie, drinking a pint of Guinness, shook our hands first. Then Charlie. Then Mick, who asked my son whether he was a Stones fan, then whether he had a favorite song. “Sure, but you’re not going to play it.” “Well, we just might have a surprise for you tonight, young man. What is your favorite?”
“Hand of Fate.”
“Hand of Fate?” Mick repeated, taken aback, looking around the room. “I’m not even sure we . . . which . . . .what album was that?“ “Black and Blue,” Charlie and my son said in unison. “Me own children wouldn’t know that song,” Mick continued. “And here it is your favorite. That's quite something. You really are quite a Rolling Stones fan.”
Keith, standing next to Mick, leaned toward my son, began to extend his hand, and said, “Well, if he’s such an authority on the band I imagine the boy knows who is the leader of this little outfit.”
“Yes, I do,” my son said without missing a beat. “If it wasn’t for him (pointing at Mick), you’d (now pointing at Keith) be out there somewhere pumping gas.”
The room froze. Except for Ronnie, who spit a perfect plume of Guinness several feet into the air. Charlie was hiding his smile and suppressed laughter behind his hand. Mick's eyes were wide, a smile widening. Everyone in the room looked at Keith. It seemed quite likely that Keith was rarely treated in this manner. No one knew how to respond. Keith swayed gently, pondering for a bit. He stroked his chin as people waited, silently and still, for a cue. How would Keith respond? Would he cut the impertinent child in half? Banish him from the stadium?
After another drag from his cigarette and a pronounced exhale, Keith spoke, pointing at my son: “Well, the wee lad might have a point, at that.” Keith said, laughing. That broke the tension. Ronnie just pointed at my son, laughing. Charlie came back and extended his hand. “Oh, that’s OK, you already shook my hand, “ my son said. “Yes, young man, that is true. But I should like to shake it again,” Charlie said, and he did.
Mick, still at bended knee, looked my son in the eye and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You were correct. We cannot play your song tonight. I’m not sure I know the words well enough, and I doubt the band is ready for it. But perhaps we could play something else for such a great fan of the Rolling Stones. Do you have another favorite?”
“Sure,” my son said. ”But you play it every night . . . Start Me Up.“
“You are right again, young man. We do play that one every night. But tonight . . . we shall play it (emphasizing these words) for you.”
Keith nodded toward my son as he shook my hand, with a hand so leathery it seemed he was wearing a golf glove (John Entwistle’s hand was similar), raising an eyebrow: “Quite the little firecracker, that one.”
When we went to our seats for the show, I told some friends what Mick would be wearing – foppish blue prom suit, cartoonish shoes – during the opening tunes, only to be slack-jawed when he emerged for Not Fade Away in a Stones t-shirt and black pants. That was no ridiculous stage get-up. Those were his clothes of choice.
Photo by Bjørnulf Vik
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