Memories are Made of This

It's not often that one gets the chance to see a Rolling Stones concert. Leaving aside the scarcity of tickets and the cost (an arm, a leg plus other assorted extraneous bits), they're hardly a band who play regular gigs at the local Palais.

We journeyed up to what was the Millennium Dome, now sponsored by O2 and called, with amazing logic, the O2, clutching a free pair of £100 tickets won from (you've guessed it) O2. We wanted to re-acquaint ourselves with a band that we had both last seen in our teens and, unknown to each other until recently, at the same venue: The Hyde Park concert. Neither of us had been to the Dome before so it was going to be a good day out all round.

Th travel up there was painless; car to Brighton Station, hop straight onto a (surprisingly) clean and comfy train and, an hour later, we were at London Bridge. As we both know London fairly well, we decided to go direct to Greenwich and have a good look round, but first we detoured to find a direct descendant of Dick Turpin masquerading as a coffee shop owner. Now, prices down our way aren't cheap but £8 for two small coffees and wafer-thin cookies is pushing it! Travelling on the Jubilee Line through such exotic places as Bermondsey and Canary Wharf, we arrived at the Dome and it was quite a sight. Obviously, it's all very new and the infrastructure is extremely smart so we had high hopes of passing a few pleasant hours before the gig.

There were already people wandering around in a variety of Stones-related apparel and the merchandising shop was setting up to sell even more. They had everything: dozens of different tee-shirts, hoodies, boxer shorts, pyjamas, bandanas, wallets, flip-flops etc. etc. As usual, these weren't cheap with tee-shirts starting at £22 and programmes £15 but, judging by the number of people milling around, they wouldn't be short of customers. We had a chat with one of the guys who's been on the whole tour. The "Bigger Bang" tour started two years ago and comprised of 147 shows around the world with only these last 3 at the O2 in England. He scotched any reported rumours that tonight's show was their last ever and gave us a bit of an insight into "Stone'sWorld".

Having seen all that, we wandered round the rest of the O2, which was primarily a food mall. Everything from sushi to snacks were available and we eventually settled on a meal in "The Slug & Lettuce". Without going into gastronomic detail, should you ever see one of these in your travels: keep going"! Of course, everywhere was non-smoking so there were vast crowds outside partaking of what the minority determined and we periodically emerged, blinking, into the sunshine. More and more people were arriving and I suddenly realised that this army of Stones fans, in their "uniform" of assorted tee-shirts had about 6 complete heads of hair between them!. It's quite weird to think of this balding, large-bellied older generation gyrating to Mick and the boys in an earlier era and I laughed as I mentioned this to Mrs. B. She solemnly pointed out that we were of similar vintage so I shut up at that point.

n.b. Just to clear up any ambiguity, I am not balding and am within 4lbs of being "normal" on the BMI scale and Mrs B. scrubs up pretty well too. The only one I'll admit to is the age comment!

By now, there was a small multitude at the merchandising point and selling had commenced. I umm-ed and ahh-ed about whether I actually wanted a tee-shirt but in the end, there was one I could live with and it's kind of traditional to always buy one at gigs (or several if it's Neil Young). I fought my way into the crowd and finally managed to get next in a queue. The woman in front of me spent £280 on various things and took an age so I was mightily relieved when she disappeared. "May I have the the euphemistically labelled "DVD Tongue" in Large, please?" I asked the bored-looking lady. She eventually returned and with a laconic "We've only got them in Medium" proceeded to the next customer!

I re-emerged from the scrum more than a little disgruntled but with a certain satisfaction that their lack of tee-shirt had reduced the Rolling Stones profits by a few quid. That'll make a difference!

Talking of matters financial: say a ticket averages £100. There are 20,000 seats in The O2 and 3 nights. I make that £6 million in ticket money alone! Apparently, The O2 is a relatively small venue and there were 147 shows so we're talking close to £1000 million for the whole tour. They do no sound checks etc. themselves so their role is 2 hours per night, meaning less than 9 35 hour weeks worked in the last 2 years. Just for playing music and being adored!

Anyway, the show was approaching and we managed to blag upgrades into the O2 Executive area. This was not as exciting as we first thought as all it got us were comfy seats in a white leather-walled and upholstered lounge where the drinks were twice the price of anywhere else and O2 hosts and hostesses came and pretended to be interested in what people were saying. Still, we had special wristbands so we could pretend we were important.

Finally, it was showtime. A 10 minute walk round to find our entrance and then up a couple of long escalators as we went higher and higher into the dome itself. When we went inside, it was astonishingly high and the tiers angled at 45 degrees so both of us suddenly decided vertigo was the word of the day. However, when we eventually dared open our eyes, we found we were directly in front of the stage so all seemed well.

The support band "The Enemy" were into their set although the majority of the audience were still outside so I fiddled around with my camera to try and work out how I could get a decent photo of a stage approximately 3 miles away. As the time drew nearer, the auditorium filled and the lighting guys, sound engineers etc. all took their places. There were 7 riggers in the lights above the stage so I thought it safe to say that all would be slick, if nothing else.



The lights dimmed and the big screen behind the stage was filled with images and then, to a mighty roar of appreciation, they emerged and launched into Start Me Up. Fortunately, great camera work ensured every movement of the band was captured and Mick still moved well, and non-stop, throughout the performance. His voice is still pretty good too and only one James Brown cover proved difficult for him. Mrs B. did comment on the sight of a 64 year old man parading in skin-tight trousers and 8 inches of stomach showing being a trifle sad but I'd be happy to be in that shape at his age, and whatever you may think, Mick is a showman par excellence. Ronnie seemed to be having a good time and his slide guitar was as good as ever. Charlie looked on from the back with a slightly amused, avuncular air, indulging the others whilst, no doubt, dreaming of going back home for a nice cup of tea and some jazz drumming. He used to live in Lewes, not far from me and had been lnown to pop into the local pub for their Monday jazz nights, along with Herbie Flowers.

I'd been looking forward to seeing Keith Richard especially, given his predilection to try and make Ozzy Osbourne look normal. All I can really say is that when I try and play bass, I occasionally seem to fit in with the rest of the music and he was the same. Whether the dried frog pills were kicking in sporadically, I don't know, but at times he seemed to be playing a totally different song to the others.

Halfway through the set, the stage suddenly moved forward on a massive walkway and they were right in the middle of the auditorium, surrounded by a sea of adoring fans. I managed some decent video from there and they were by now well into the "golden oldies". Satisfaction, Honky Tonk Women and Sympathy for the Devil were belted out in rapid succession. Jumping Jack Flash, with Brown Sugar as an encore, finished the performance as well as the Tour and 20,000 people all descended towards the tube station.

As we emerged, I found myself disappointed. What I'd seen was a performance of total slickness but a performance lacking in real feeling. There was no frisson of excitement that their records once generated. There were fans there from all over Europe who wouldn't really care what the band performed as they were there because it was the Stones. In other words, it was an occasion. Of course, I should expect nothing else. They have come a long way since those heady days of their youth when the music was their whole raison d'etre and the fact that people wanted the old stuff was an indication of their apparent inabilty or lack of desire to move on musically. They are an anachronism, a reminder perhaps of people's youth that they desperately want to cling to. The only analogy I can make is that it was like watching the 1980 England squad playing now. You can see that the skill and knowledge is there but it's just not as it was.

The journey home was a nightmare. The trains which British Rail had told us were due, according to their website, were as elusive as the Hogwarts Express. However, we eventually managed as far as Gatwick, which was the nearest we could get to home. Fortunately, we made the last National Express coach and arrived back at Brighton Station at 2am. After almost losing my Visa card in the payment machine at the car park, we finally made it back indoors.

An interesting day out which I think will get even better as time goes on and we forget the inadequacies and just remember the fact: we saw the Rolling Stones.