Angus doing what Angus do. Photo by Brian Chilson.
I try to keep it up to date on Rock Candy, but sometimes I bite off more than I can chew and get behind. So, here ya go, nearly a week late, but in advance of the print version:
Jan. 28, Alltel Arena
It’s safe to say that no one, upon starting a rock ’n’ roll band, considers the implications of continuing into old age. Mick Jagger famously said that he couldn’t imagine playing “Satisfaction” at 30. Now look at him. Riding that protracted tongue all the way to the AARP jamboree. And you better believe getting “no satisfaction” means something completely different at 65 than it did 40 years earlier.
But if Mick is still trying to squeeze into those “Sticky Fingers” jeans today makes us throw up in our mouth a little, sweet Jesus, Angus! What began as a scam, a funny back-story to generate press and interest — the guitar-playing prodigy schoolboy — now reads just plain grotesque. The man’s 53 (old only in rock ’n’ roll years) and fit, but his skin’s clearly not seen the light of day since the Reagan administration. Most of what he does on stage involves some kind of sexual metaphor or, more often than not, a pantomime of some sex act, which was probably edgy in the ’80s, when he was impish and taut, but now, still impish but in a freed-from-the-hospital-gown kind of way, he looks almost pederast-y.
I bring all that up both because it affords a window into the band’s unflagging commitment to a formula and as a testament to the man’s stunning skill as a performer. I didn’t gag once.