The Rolling Stones are men of grotesque beauty.
The gaudy lips and lolling tongue—the band’s official logo—border on disgusting, especially when they ooze red and white drops or molt into heaving snakeskin as they did on the Wells Fargo Center’s jumbotron on June 18 when the Stones played Philadelphia. But the lips are oddly appealing too: big, plump, and cherry red, not unlike Mick Jagger’s own mouth circa 1969.
No matter how old or scary-looking the Stones get, they will always be beautiful.
Jagger’s sixty-nine year old frame still opens itself eagerly to possession by Dionysus. He leads an ecstatic revelry exclusive to those who share his air-space. Tuesday night there were thousands of people in the stadium breathing his magic, and they all became a part of the ritual madness. Jagger’s movements on TV convey only a fraction of the energy he projects to a live crowd.
Even guitarist Keith Richards is beautiful. It’s not so much his actual face (which looks fifteen years older than it should) but his legend that glows. On Tuesday night when Richards or Ron Wood played a particularly striking chord, their image multiplied behind them on the jumbotron. It’s a simple trick, but in this instance it seemed to take on actual meaning.
Is the big screen a visual representation of Richards’ distinctive open G tuning reverberating through popular music for the past five decades? Probably not, but it certainly exemplifies how his iconic shadow looms much larger than his average-sized body.
Then there’s drummer Charlie Watts, who is perhaps the most traditionally handsome of the Rolling Stones. He is tidy and together, a bit like an accountant bored of spending his days off jamming with some crazy old friends.
Together these four men make up the most beautiful group of ugly people you’ve ever seen.
And in Philadelphia they were in top form. The Stones played nearly all their hits and concert favorites. They even threw in some new songs: “Doom and Gloom” and “One More Shot” off of their fiftieth anniversary compilation album.
The power of the band comes from their vitality, the sense that they are—and have always been—fully alive. That’s the allure of rock ’n roll: these mythological men lead lives of excess so we can watch them do it. They exist on a dangerous plane; but fifty years after their wild conception we’re seeing the ones who made it. Because not everyone survives the rock ’n roll experiment. Original Rolling Stone Brian Jones died tragically at the age of 27, drowning in his swimming pool in 1969 in an incident described alternately as murder and drugged-induced misadventure.
But guitarist Keith Richards—a junkie for at least a decade in his younger days—has not only made it, but he is full of vigor and pulsating with primeval chords.
That’s why the Rolling Stones are still touring, and that’s why they continue to fill 20,000-seat stadiums. Their passion and energy—they take from life everything they can for as long as they can—makes them eternal. And that’s why hearing them play those old familiar songs makes you feel brand new.
