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The Rolling Stones. Many of you might have been at the concert in Milan during the scorching summer of 2003. I remember watching a puppet show. The unfortunate session man on bass and the others on horns going crazy trying to keep up with the jumps of the three in front, always late, actually, "out of sync." I didn't hear the concert because, for us poor souls in the last tier, hardly any sound from the performance reached us. Then, when Our Heroes moved to the acoustic set, I really only heard the audience below singing. But I enjoyed that evening. Perhaps it no longer matters to hear the Stones, but rather to be sure, to see that they are still alive and moving (like puppets).
Leaving the stadium: "Did you see Mick Jagger running for two hours?... How the hell does Keith Richards still stand?... Think that Ronnie is the same age as my father, etc. etc." Everyone carefully avoided talking about music.
The same goes for this latest album. It doesn’t matter the quality of the songs (a bit ugly, by the way) but the fact that the old geezers manage to be 100 times tougher than the listless twenty-something epigones who today infest the Anglo-Saxon music world full of bands already washed up, toxic, burned out after three years of career.
Welcome "A Bigger Bang" to be listened to without even turning up the volume knob from 0.
In playback like puppets.
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