Rolling In to See The Stones

Youngest audience member
(and my responsible dinner)

Due to unforseen circumstances, it was over a year since we purchased tickets to The Rolling Stones before we were finally able to enjoy them – which saw me at precisely 8 months pregnant. I ran to meet my time conscious husband at the train station after work on Wednesday (a school night, of all occasions!), then reminded myself that giving birth at the show might be a cool story for my child but not for me, and slowed to a sensible pace. I lamed us again in the final leg from Richmond station because my back hurt. “Now my front hurts. Now both.” (At this rate, Ben would NEVER get me on his shoulders in the mosh pit.)

We met Ben’s folks at the door and we three generations filed in to grab some fine Rod Laver grub. I queued up for a menu I couldn’t see and found there was no option but to indulge my fried food craving. Well, ok, there was grilled fish and salad, but only a maniac would try to eat that in a foyer. No option, I say!
To avoid further pressure on my bladder, I bought only one small bottle of water to sensibly sip throughout the show. Due to insatiable juice cravings, however, (I work at a food supply company and my mouth literally waters when a customer orders juice) I also had to down an entire bottle of OJ on account of having seen it, so.. That plan was a bust.

Only 20 minutes past the scheduled start time, I was faced with that old Shakespearean quandary – “To pee or not to pee?” My co-concert goers insisted, “You can’t miss the intro! Look at that pregnant lady in front of you – She’s being good!” (Oh.. I thought I was special but I could literally reach out and touch another pregnant lady. She told me to get my hands off her, but I had to prove my point) so I stupidly held for another 20 minutes before making like a boulder back down the stairs.  I returned to my seat in time for the band’s entrance and can proudly report there were no more dunny dashes (notable news, in my life).

I nervously awaited the baby’s reaction to the loudest sound I’d heard in 8 months. Once the mile long speakers started pumping, there was a stunned stillness from the womb. Next came a riot of kicking and punching which was probably panick, but I chose to dismiss as dancing!
The baby had no choice but to adapt to the new energy in the room because, by golly, those old boys have still got it. When the band hit the stage,  Mick jumped around to their opening Jumping Jack Flash and was still going strong a few sweat-laden towels and costume changes later. The intensity did ease off a bit when, by about song 4, we were treated to the live experience of our wedding song, Wild Horses. I gave one hand to Ben and put the other on my belly, and shed a little tear of appreciation.

Aside from keeping fresh, Jagger’s multiple looks for the evening served his more flamboyant sense of showmanship. They began with a sparkling, emerald green jacket and included a floor-dusting red and orange feather cape that represented fire. I’d expected the renowned Jagger ‘moves’ to be a little unco and comical, but although his unabashed expression did give us the occasional giggle, his performance was suave and fluid – almost as if he’d had 50 years’ experience, or something. It was rather funny to see a 71 year old skipping across the stage, but it was only when he’d slow to a fast-paced walk that you could see a stiffness and fragility (which perhaps was always typical of his movement. I couldn’t say). There were no restrictions to his hips, however, which I’d heard aptly said were like a 13 year old girl’s - in movement and appearance. Jagger’s still a wisp of a man and when considering his frame and 70s-inspired wardrobe, I realised he’d have no need to change when he was always loved as-is. And boy, do the girls still love him! I never bought Kesha’s interest in ‘dudes.. who look like Mick Jagger’ until I personally witnessed some attractive young ladies losing their shit in the crowd. I, too, loved Jagger’s cheeky banter and charisma but, I gotta stick to my agism. C’mon, girls.. 71.

Then, there was the player who looked much more suitably mellow for his age – Keith Richards. He and Mick are two of a kind; both belonged on the stage and looked completely at home. Keith, however, was incredibly understated while somehow maintaining a strong stage presence. He stood dreamily in the background and shared his life’s work without a flicker of self-doubt. When Mick needed a rest, Keith seamlessly took the mic and kept the show flowing on. Even his soft little pot belly seemed to work in with his whole chilled vibe.


Now, although I’m a fan of their music, I’m sure I don’t know enough about the band to fairly assess its members. But, lord knows I will, jerk that I am. I wasn’t overly impressed with Ronnie Wood, to be honest. I learned he’s the ‘baby’ of the group, but felt this didn’t explain why he was dressed like a 20-year old. He came off as affected and oddly attention-seeking, which reeked to me of insecurity. Once I’d made my initial judgment, though, I did come to appreciate the complimentary contrast between the three stars and how perfectly they worked together. Each was immersed in the music and their own role, but there was a palpable trust and unconscious awareness of one another, as between limbs on the same body. When a burst of energy seemed to move Mick or Ronnie blindly across the stage, there was never a risk of collision.

Finally, of course, there was Charlie Watts.. Who I didn’t even know was bona fide member until Ben mentioned him after the show! In fact, when he shared the final bow with the other 3 members, I wondered, “What’s that old fart doing?” (“Get off the stage!”) He looked like some generic old dude who was earning a crust and wanted to get home! Ben tells me now that he has been very ill and wasn’t easily convinced to go back on tour, so I do have a retrospective appreciation, now. On ya, Charlie.

Someone else I was peeking on throughout the show was Ben’s dad, whose ticket we  bought for Christmas. John was very still and quiet, a trademark of original fans at gigs – they record every detail with their eyes and ears to enjoy from memory later. I saw his knee jigging at one point, though, so he did allow for some minor grooving.

Whilst some long-time performers exceed their expiry to disappoint fans on modern day tours, time has only perfected The Stones. I came in expecting Jagger’s voice to have wearied but was thrilled to hear him match the calibre of his records.The band was accompanied by many talented vocalists and musicians, including an Aussie choir for the magical encore performance of You Can’t Always Get What You Want. Tickets may have cost us a fortune, but we paid for some good quality shit.

It wasn’t hard to imagine we were seeing the band in their hay day. I wanted to take photos but decided it more authentic to leave with just a ticket and a memory, like we might have 50 years ago. (Plus, I was scared I’d get caught and I don’t want to have a jail baby.) It struck me that The Stones themselves are an important part of history; I thought about what they’ve seen and done and the people they’ve known, and was humbled to be in their audience. We too felt historically significant by experiencing what may be the band’s last Aussie tour. Definitely one of the best gigs I’ve ever been to. Thank you, Benny, for getting our tickets.

Our one photo of an empty stage. *Memories.*