Not Fadeaway

The Rolling Stones
East Rutherford, NJ
May 23, 2024

Last night, a multi-generational crowd  numbering in the tens of thousands was treated to a demonstration of the proposition that age is just a state of mind.

The Rolling Stones, still touring in their seventh decade as a functioning band, brought their Hackney Diamonds tour to MetLife Stadium in New Jersey‘s Meadowlands. The band is supporting the album of the same name, their first release of new material in ages. (The 2016 release, Blue & Lonesome, consisted of blues songs written by others.)

When the tour was announced I had no plans to attend. But I was offered a seat through the beneficence of my cousin and couldn’t say no. After all, someone on that stage is bound to encounter an actuarial event sooner or later.  I’m glad I accepted the offer.

Jon Batiste, opened the show as the last threats of rain departed the area. I don’t really know Batiste beyond what he told us from the stage and shared with us in his set, but what I heard was worth listening to.

A New Orleans native, Batiste offers a dynamic stage presence backed up by some serious musical chops. His band, 13 pieces if I counted correctly, although that includes the twerkers, er, I mean dancers, is a tight unit. Like many Crescent City bands, there’s a horn section and I took perverse delight at the sight of a sousaphone on stage.

Batiste himself does it all. He sings, he dances, he exhorts. He plays piano, guitar, drums and melodica. His stage kit would appeal to Michael, Prince or even Bruno Mars. Musically, I was reminded of Trombone Shorty‘s outfit while his lyrics and message were of a piece with Brother Josecephus & the Love Revolution.

Jon Batiste and his roiling band.

My favorite part of Batiste’s set consisted of a solo interlude. He began on the runway playing a melodica and the at first random-seeming  notes soon fell into the melody line of “Tom’s Diner,” Suzanne Vega‘s 1987 hit, before evolving into what sounded to me like Prokofiev.

What followed was Batiste at the piano, deconstructing “The Star Spangled Banner” in the way only someone steeped in the jazz of New Orleans could. I heard Fats Domino and Professor Longhair in the bass and barrel house chords and more than a little Art Tatum in his right hand. To me, it was a musical metaphor for everything great about America, and I couldn’t help wondering if I might be alone or in sparse company in thinking that.

For many concert-goers, the opening act is optional and so the stadium seemed more than half empty until the last bit of daylight had fled past the Passaic River.  The Stones appeared around 9:30, crashing into “Start Me Up” and setting the tone for the next two hours.

The Stones Cometh

I need to pause here and establish some operating premises. I was never a huge Rolling Stones fan. For years, I used to say that the only Stones record you needed to own was “Hot Rocks, 1964-1971.” I bridled at Mick Jagger‘s minstrel show antics and always believed that if “Brown Sugar” had been recorded by any other band it would be found in appallingly bad taste. Them’s fighting words to true fans.

Before we resort to fisticuffs, let me say over time I relented a bit. The Bleed/Sticky/Exile run might be the best such in the history of rock. The C-90 I used to say could hold all the Stones worth hearing isn’t long enough, even if much of the band’s output leaves me cold.

None of that mattered last night because the nearly two-hour set was composed of the songs you inarguably wanted to hear. The parking lot conversations I overheard afterward were mostly about what was left out. Only “Angry,” the new single, and “Sweet Sounds of Heaven” made it into the set list (below) from the new record. Otherwise the set drew from the band’s initial decades and strongest work. The songs sounded like you’d expect, the guitars growling, Mick singing, the rhythm section pounding, just like the records.

The Stones playeth.

Jagger remains a scampering showman and if he’s slowed down a bit (he’s 80 now) he’s still capable of indulging his penchant for vaguely shamanistic Tai Chi. His voice, never a favorite of mine, is hanging in there, enough so that he easily handled the vocal calisthenics of “Miss You,” on which he also played harmonica. (To be fair, he strapped on a guitar for more than a couple of songs, too.) It was only when he sang with Chanelle Haynes that he came up short. Haynes clearly matched, and maybe exceeded, Merry Clayton‘s fury on “Gimme Shelter.”

I’ve mused before about bands whose lineup changes. The Stones now have a new rhythm section and, a bit of heresy, I really enjoy Darryl Jones on bass and Steve Jordan on drums more than Wyman and Watts. Jones, especially, plays in a manner Wyman would never be able to. Music Director Chuck Leavell has augmented the quintet with a fine group of horn players and back-up singers.

I’ve never been a Ron Wood fan even as I recognized how well he fit in the band. I heard nothing to make me change my mind about that last night. Let’s be honest, Ron Wood plays guitar, he’s no god of the instrument that people turn to like Beck or Page. If anything, his guitar was mixed too loud, especially when he was playing his Les Paul.  He did play some tasty slide guitar in an acoustic duet with Keith Richards on “You Got the Silver” that made me smile. And he lovingly recreated Brian Jones‘ sitar-like parts on “Paint Black.”

Keef

That leaves Keef. What else can be said about Keith Richards at this point? He’s defied death and parody and has become a force of nature. My change of heart about the Stones is largely a result of my accepting that, a journey I was aided on by many a YouTube video of Keith playing with equally aged bluesmen.

Richards, also 80,  is clearly having the time of his life and why shouldn’t he? He’s written some of the most memorable riffs in rock ‘n’ roll, instantly recognizable to even causal listeners. Admit it. You don’t go to the Stones for the virtuoso musicianship, you go for the riffs.

Among his band mates, Richards looks least ravaged by time, although I applaud all of them for aging in place and avoiding the wind tunnel-tight dermis of Maca. Mostly, Keith stands, and strums and has a good time and I think that’s a life lesson.  The riffs and solos, simple but effective, are icing on the cake.

Not the best example, but clearly one of these gents has had a little nip and tuck.

It’s a cliche to talk about the soundtrack of your life, but every one of these songs marks a time and a place for me. The Stones have been making music as long as I’ve been alive and the songs have just always been there. So it was a treat to hear them rendered by their creators, or at least 3/5 of them.

Here’s a couple of videos and the set list. Have a great Memorial Day weekend.

You Got the Silver

Sympathy for the Devil

Gimme Shelter (partial, but captures the fury)

Set List

Start Me Up
Get Off of my Cloud
Shattered
Angry
It’s Only Rock ‘n’ RollWild Horses
Mess it Up
Tumbling Dice
You Can’t Always get What You Want
You Got the Silver
Little T&A
Sympathy for the Devil
Honky Tonk Women
Miss You
Gimme Shelter
Paint it Black
Jumping Jack Flash
—Encore—
Sweet Sounds of Heaven
Satisfaction