By Steve Newton
The Rolling Stones play Vancouver’s BC Place tonight (July 5), but I’m not going.
It’s not so much the exorbitant prices for concerts these days, or the fact that the Stones are now older than dirt.
It’s just that I’ve seen them play BC Place four times already, starting with the Steel Wheels Tour, which was already being jokingly labelled the “Steel Wheelchairs” Tour back in 1989.
I also saw the Stones on the Voodoo Lounge, Bridges to Babylon, and A Bigger Bang tours, but I was fortunate enough to be a professional concert reviewer at those times, which meant my ticket was free–as was the one for my lucky guest.
Those were the days.
Anyway, if you happen to be going to tonight’s gig, I hope it’s decent. And that Keef doesn’t keel over, ’cause we’re old buddies, as you can clearly see from this photo:
And if you aren’t going to see the Stones tonight, here’s what they were like in Vancouver back in 1989, 1994, 1998, and 2006.
Steel Wheels Tour, November 1, 1989
In what was surely the biggest Vancouver concert event of the ’80s, the Rolling Stones hit Vancouver for two nights last week amid a flurry of hype and much groveling for tickets. Now that Jagger and the boys have gathered up their money-bags (they play the Cotton Bowl in Dallas this weekend), one can take the time to analyze their local shows and come to a decision.
Was it all bloody worth it?
Let’s weigh the pros and cons. First off, on the downside, there’s the venue itself. If any group can make the dome sound decent, it should be the world’s greatest rock and roll band, but the sound was still weak–it’s been much better for bands like U2 and Supertramp. And though lacklustre sound might be forgiven in a venue built for football, what’s not so easy to ignore was the incredible deadness of the crowd.
After hearing all about the riot that occurred the last time the Stones played here, I was expecting the crowd to be bristling with wild enthusiasm and on its feet from beginning to end. But on Wednesday it was just a one-way street. The Stones rolled down it and the crowd of 53,000 politely watched from the sidewalk.
Now for the good stuff, the thumbs-up material. When it comes to songs, you can’t beat the Stones’ repertoire, and their choice of 25 tunes left little to complain about (although my older sister did beef about the exclusion of “Angie”). From their best-known tunes like “Brown Sugar” and “Satisfaction” (which finally got the crowd mildly riled up), to more obscure numbers like “2,000 Light Years from Home” and new ones from the band’s 29th album, Steel Wheels, the Stones’ set-list was a winner. It showed the band’s great emotional and musical range, from the opening stomp of “Start Me Up” to the show’s biggest lyrical highlight, “You Can’t Always Get What You Want”.
Next to the super songs, the stage itself was a big–and I mean BIG–part of the Stones’ show. With some 800,000 pounds of black and orange scaffolding, two huge silver smoke-chutes, and silver netting draped over mountains of amps, the stage resembled the interior of a high-tech steel mill.
The 250-foot wide, 130-foot high structure was augmented by a colossal lighting set-up that included 80 spinning Varilites (computerized spotlights), 100 animated color changers, and 22 man-operated followspots. According to the Stones’ fact sheet, a half-million watts of power are consumed by the system each show.
Also quite amazing were the show’s two main effects–a pair of 55-foot, inflatable tarts that came out of nowhere to bob up and down at either side of the stage on “Honky Tonk Women”. A massive fan filled the giant dolls with air in roughly half a minute; it took about twice that time to deflate them.
But perhaps the most impressive part of the Stones’ show was the performance of the band itself–and in particular that of Jagger. All the fancy effects and classy tunes in the world could have been for naught if those songs weren’t performed with the verve and style that the Stones are famous for. Jagger strutted and pranced through every song, displaying a rippling stomach that men half his age would envy.
Guitarists Keith Richards and Ron Wood were happy to hang out in front of Charlie Watts’ vintage drum-kit, smoking ciggies and stumbling around while casually chopping away at their axes. Bassist Bill Wyman, the oldest Stone at 53, kept to himself at stage left, expressionless and still.
All in all, just being able to see this craggy-faced crew of legendary rockers do their thing was an enormous experience. And, on reflection, things like muddy sound and a dull crowd weren’t enough to spoil that satisfaction. The sheer fascination so many people have for the Stones was mirrored in the starry orbs of Vancouver’s own Colin James, who just before the show had been backstage rocking out with Richards and Wood. “I’m buying,” he announced, all bright-eyed as he swaggered up to the media bar. “I’ve just been jamming with Ron and Keith!”
And while I was happy for the upcoming young blues-rocker, the only sad part was, I’d just finished buying my own beer.
Voodoo Lounge Tour, December 17, 1994
There was one nagging question on my mind after the Rolling Stones’ show last Saturday (December 17) at B.C. Place, and it kept elbowing for space in there with about a thousand Chuck Berry guitar riffs.
I couldn’t stop wondering just how in hell the Spin Doctors, of all bands, managed to scoop the opening spot on the extremely high-profile Voodoo Lounge tour. Could it be that when the Stones deserted Sony for Virgin Records, a contractual obligation meant they had to help a worn-out Sony act revive its plummeting career?
At any rate, the Spin Doctors’ 40-minute “warm-up” set was a tiresome exercise in lame pseudofunk that no Stones freak (or rock fan in general) should have had to sit through. It did help make the headliners sound even more impressive, though, which could have been the idea all along.
As if to drive home the fact that it has been around for more than three decades, the world’s greatest rock ’n’ roll band (next to the Who) kicked things off with a tune from 1964, the Bo Diddley–inspired “Not Fade Away”.
Mick Jagger looked sharp in a two-tone, grey Sgt. Pepper–style coat, but Keith Richards had him beat in the footwear department, sporting bright-yellow runners. The flashy leather shoes seemed to incite Richards to shimmy and shake to the next half-dozen tunes, which were mostly fast-paced rockers from the past (“Shattered”) and present (“You Got Me Rocking”).
One new boogie tune, “Sparks Will Fly”, was accompanied on a giant screen by bizarre computer graphics of a spiky, flailing tongue, not to mention some of the rudest Jagger lyrics ever. I know it’s only rock ’n’ roll, but there’s still something mildly disconcerting about a 51-year-old bellowing “I wanna fuck your sweet ass!”
Although he may be in dire need of a good soapy mouthwash, Jagger is certainly looking healthy these days. By the time the band had ripped into “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction”, he had peeled off the grey coat, a purple vest, and a blue silk shirt, and was down to a tight black tee.
When he scampered along the stage-left ramp above where we were located on the floor, it was clear the sinewy rock god has been taking care of himself. Richards, on the other hand… Well, he had Jagger beat in the footwear department.
“Any requests?” asked Mick after tinkling the keyboards on “Far Away Eyes”, one of the set’s rare mellow tunes. A partially zonked-out guy behind me screamed “Brand New Car!”, but Jagger must not have heard him, because he sang “Heartbreaker” instead—which was all right by me.
“We’re gonna do a really ancient one for ya,” he announced before returning to ’64 for another cover, Bobby Womack’s “It’s All Over Now”, which the band played while televised live in black-and-white for that archival feel.
It wasn’t quite the same seeing the Stones minus Bill Wyman’s standoffish demeanour, but new bassist Darryl Jones handled himself admirably, knowing better than to get too involved in the onstage antics of Jagger, Richards, and Ron Wood.
The Stones got plenty of strong backup from vocalists Lisa Fischer and Bernard Fowler, and a killer brass section also earned its keep. Longtime Stones saxophonist Bobby Keyes was a particular crowd-pleaser, putting his jugular vein to the test during a frantic solo on “Miss You”.
The high point of the show came when Richards banged out the opening chords to “Honky Tonk Women”, the slinky classic that most typifies what the Stones are all about. During that number, film clips of such femmes fatales as Greta Garbo, Brigitte Bardot, Marilyn Monroe, Betty Boop, and Queen Elizabeth II (!) were flashed on the huge screen—along with live shots of various local honky-tonkers shuffling in the crowd.
The most elaborate visual effect was saved for “Sympathy for the Devil”, when an array of giant inflatables—including a guitar-strumming Elvis, a nun, a goat’s head, and a punk baby—came to distended life across the top of the stage.
While the Stones cranked out “Street Fighting Man”, various stagehands tugged on the backs of the balloons to get them bobbing along, then in a matter of seconds all were deflated, yanked away, and tucked out of sight.
Tidy folk, those British.
Two hours after it started, the Stones’ set rumbled to a close, but the crowd of 50,000 brought the band back for an encore of (what else?) “Jumpin’ Jack Flash”. Somebody in wardrobe must have had a Phyllis Diller flashback, though, because Mick returned wearing a knee-length black skirt over his pants and Keith had on a pink plush jacket.
Are those guys wacky or what?
Bridges to Babylon Tour, January 28, 1998
I’ve seen my fair share of B.C. Place rock concerts over the years, but none that have left me as perplexed as last Wednesday’s (January 28) Stones show. It started out shockingly lame before transforming into something wild and wonderful, and I would have sworn that the current, corporate Stones were way too predictable for that.
The show kicked off as you’d expect any Stones gig might, with Keith Richards striding up to the front of the stage and dramatically slashing out the opening chords of “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction”. But after I’d recovered from the sight of the grey-haired codger bounding about in a full-length, leopard skin–patterned coat, it became clear that something was terribly amiss. Here was “the world’s greatest rock ’n’ roll band”, as some say, in the throes of perhaps its finest song, and I wasn’t feeling anything. I should have been caught up in the thrill of the moment, cheering and punching the air, but I could hardly get my toes to tap along to the gutless sound rolling off the stage.
There was no edge at all to the guitars, and the trademark trash-can slam of Charlie Watts’s drums was strangely neutered. It’s common knowledge that the acoustics are iffy in the B.C. Place echo chamber, but I wasn’t taking notes from any nosebleed section or tucked-away media lounge. I was right down in front of the stage, 14th row centre, so the feeble sound production was flabbergasting.
Even more worrying than that, though, was the realization that the band wasn’t playing well. I stood there dumbfounded while the legendary combo walked through “Let’s Spend the Night Together” and then delivered a sluggish “Gimme Shelter”. There was none of the usual rowdy interaction between Richards and Mick Jagger, who made a point of totally ignoring each other. Jagger appeared particularly perturbed, and by the time “Ruby Tuesday” came around he was loudly cursing about the feedback from his mike.
Immediately following a so-so version of “Under My Thumb”, Jagger approached guitarist Ronnie Wood and clearly proclaimed, “Thank you, Ronnie, we couldn’t have done it without you,” which I instantly took to be a backhanded swipe at Richards. On the next number, “Miss You”, Richards responded by hunkering down in front of Watts’s drum kit for a smoke, stabbing petulantly at his guitar as if to say, “Okay, Mick, you can carry this one, pal.” For his part, Jagger scratched ineffectively at his own guitar while slinky backup vocalist Lisa Fischer rubbed his ass and then salaciously licked her fingers.
You go, girl!
Around this time I started wondering if maybe this was it, if these feuding fogies were gonna stomp off the stage and leave me holding a ticket stub for the last Rolling Stones show ever. But then the tone of the show started to change. A hydraulic catwalk was extended from the original stage to a comparatively tiny one in the middle of the floor, and the Stones rambled across it to take their positions on the circular platform. They only played three songs in this club-sized setting—“Little Queenie”, “The Last Time”, and “Like a Rolling Stone”—but somehow that brief encounter in close quarters managed to enliven the group like a double shot of Geritol.
Next thing I knew, the Stones were rocking out like the street punks of old, and with their revitalization the sound system’s gremlins were banished, strangely enough. Jagger and Richards still weren’t buddy-buddy, but any antagonisms they may have harboured for one another got channelled into hot-blooded versions of “Sympathy for the Devil”, “Tumbling Dice”, “Honky Tonk Women”, and “Jumpin’ Jack Flash”.
By the time the band quit to the classic reverberations of “Brown Sugar”, I was wondering what had happened to the Mick and Keith impostors who were up there 22 tunes ago.
A Bigger Bang Tour, November 25, 2006
A lot has been made of the astronomical ticket prices the Rolling Stones charged on their recent stop in Vancouver, but considering today’s out-of-control construction costs (see 2010 Olympics), there’s some merit to their exorbitance. It looked as if the Stones’ 300-person production crew had built a five-storey apartment complex on the stage. The immense structure—28 metres high and 62 metres wide—wasn’t just for show, though: two viewing platforms on either side of it were jammed with fans who, one suspects, paid extra to be located so close to the action, where they could make like they were part of the show.
Mick Jagger didn’t study economics at college for nothin’, you know.
The band picked a killer tune to open with, “Jumpin’ Jack Flash”, and Jagger started his nonstop sweatin’-to-the-oldies workout in a silver topcoat that he soon doffed for “It’s Only Rock ’n Roll (But I Like It)”. “We haven’t been here since the Voodoo Lounge tour in 19-something,” he proclaimed, “and everybody said it would be raining, but it’s snowing.”
The unnecessary weather update was followed by “Oh No, Not You Again”, the obligatory new song from the band’s latest CD, A Bigger Bang. Around this time, the concert took its one and only nose-dive, as the substandard 1983 number “She Was Hot” showed up, complete with cheesy ’80s footage played on what must be the world’s biggest video screen.
Classy opener Bonnie Raitt came out to join Jagger for “Shine a Light”, a ballad from the landmark Exile on Main Street, but she didn’t seem particularly inspired during the duet. When the group followed that with another ballad, A Bigger Bang’s “Streets of Love”, it was time to head to the concession stand for a caffeine jolt. (Rejoining the brutal beer lineups wasn’t an option, as they’d already stopped selling alcohol, perhaps in consideration of the worsening road conditions.)
When I returned to my seat, the Stones were in the midst of a down ’n’ dirty “Midnight Rambler”, and the cup of Colombian brew now seemed totally out of place—more so when a four-piece horn section joined in for Exile’s awesome “Tumbling Dice”. Let It Bleed’s “You Got the Silver” kicked off a three-song showcase by Keith Richards that saw the crowd of 51,000 smother the scary-lookin’ rock god in fanatical applause. Someone on the floor even held up an inflatable palm tree in recognition of Keef’s recent tropical tumble.
During “Miss You”, the entire band was transported on a mobile mini stage to the other end of the stadium, so that the bums in the cheap ($175) seats could feel special. “This is a real old one for ya,” hollered Jagger, introducing 1965’s “Get Off of My Cloud”. That tune received a strong response, though not as intense as “Start Me Up”.
Back on the main stage a huge, inflatable version of the Stones’ trademark tongue and lips hailed the arrival of “Honky Tonk Women”, and as the band made its way back, Jagger, 63, saucily raised his T-shirt to expose the abs of an athletic 12-year-old.
“Sympathy for the Devil” ended with two face-warming blasts of flame shot from the lofty top of the stage and appearing to burn out just short of BC Place’s flammable-looking ceiling. Audience members exchanged worried Great White glances, but thankfully the roof failed to catch fire like a marshmallow that’s overstayed its campfire welcome.
The place went nuts when “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” was included in the encore, and as deafening blasts were accompanied by a cascade of fireworks and enormous gold streamers, the 116th and final show on the Stones’ A Bigger Bang tour came to a thundering halt.
In a perfect world, the set list would have included “Shattered”, “Hang Fire”, and “Little T and A”, but hey, you can’t always get what you want.
To read more than 300 of my other Vancouver concert reviews go here.
I really enjoyed reading your reviews. Especially the inflatable palm tree reference Lol