WHO said getting old was a drag? Flashing swatches of his absurdly flat, bare belly like a pre-conception Britney Spears – and humping his skinny hips treacherously close to Keith Richards (and an FCC obscenity rap) – geriatric rocker Mick Jagger yesterday wowed New York like a porn star one-quarter his age.
Proving that rock ‘n’ roll, hard living and copious doses of Viagra keep a guy young and supple indefinitely, more than 240 years worth of Rolling Stones gave an impromptu performance outside the Juilliard School to launch their new concert tour.
They pranced, preened and pursed their important lips, singing “Brown Sugar” to kids whose mothers weren’t even born when the Stones recorded that ode to interracial relations – on vinyl.
The kids sang along, frenetically assembling their limbs into dance moves better suited to rap tunes.
And then, as the Stones came out to answer questions, a cringe-worthy moment arrived.
A local TV reporter relayed a burning question posed to Mick by a 17-year-old girl who’d evidently skipped school to hear the Stones play.
“Where did you get those oh-so-sexy moves?” the child wanted to know.
Members of the audience shifted in their seats, as if faced with the mental image of Michael Jackson, a choir boy and a well-oiled game of Twister.
But Mick swallowed the bait without chewing. Not missing a beat, he said he learned the sexy moves about which the young girl asked “off her mum.”
Onlookers grew quiet. The subject was immediately changed.
Perhaps Mick hadn’t had his rest. He informed the crowd “this is one of the earliest concerts we’ve been to for a while.” At the moment he spoke, it was 1:25 p.m. and the sun was shining brightly. He leaned over to Keith, and planted a sloppy kiss on his corrugated cheek.
One wonders why these guys, adored by women, envied by men, millionaires many times over, with enough grandchildren to fill a nursery, find it necessary to remain active in a field that devours most men by age 30.
Mick and Keith are nearing 62, after all, Charlie Watts is almost 64 and Ron Wood is the baby at nearly 58. By today’s standards, Mick’s pelvis thrusting, navel-baring, lip-smacking act is a quaint relic of days when the lyric in “Start Me Up” that alludes to a dead man having sex was as shocking as things ever got.
Even Keith, whose face bears the road map of every wild night he’s forgotten, has succumbed to cosmetic dentistry and domestic bliss, as evidenced by his wedding ring.
Mick, whose wiry arms were impressively pumped into shape, joked about the band’s battle with gravity. He revealed that at some concerts, hundreds of fans will be able to sit on the stage.
“You’ll get a great view of our bums,” said Mick, “so we’re gonna have to work on [them] a little bit.”
A reporter demanded to know if this tour was about money or art, but the Stones found the question too boring to answer.
I think the answer is: They do it because they can.
And they’ll continue as long as people line up to pay $100 a ticket to watch some old guys perform like sex gods.
Wouldn’t you?
Tickets go on sale today from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. through TicketMaster (for buyers paying with American Express cards). Remaining seats go on sale to the general public May 23.