Subscribe to this blog
I dig the music. I even think Mick Jagger is still kind of hot. But, I wonder, how ridiculous does it look when legions of lumpy, nearsighted and gray-headed 40- and 50-year-olds flock to rock shows staged by people in their 60s?
Recently, my husband and I went to see Bonnie Raitt in concert. The audience looked like a living Lands' End catalog. The only pill being popped was Pepcid AC, and instead of free love we were all on the make for free parking.
It's not good looks, trim waists, or full heads of hair that make the difference. It's the willingness of the artists to make peace with the march of time. If their music has kept pace, wrinkles don't matter. But if their entire act is a desperate reach for past glory, it's time to retire. Which brings me back to Mick and the Stones.
Goodness knows what sort of wicked mix of vitamins, liniment and chiropractic therapy is required to start them up. But their music still stirs. And even at Social Security age, they ooze cool. So, I'll be there. In my relaxed-fit jeans and Aerosoles -- rockin'.
Source:
