I personally saw him with his friends in the 1990s in Munich ("Flashpoint"). On Wednesday, in Tel Aviv, I saw that he and they are still as vital. "Good evening Tel Aviv, Chag Shavuot Sameach," Mick said, and took off his sparkling jacket, with Keith next to him in a marvelous green shirt, and a great VJ behind them.
It's true that in "Flashpoint" Mick Jagger went up and down a four-floor stage, and dragons sparked fire in "Satisfaction," but there are no fundamental changes about him (he is only suspected of dyeing his hair). And from above the park, where masses of 20 and 30 years olds moved in rhythm with him, Jagger still appeared young and wild, just like one of their most famous songs, Wild Horses.
There is one known fact about Stones concerts: Their rock sounds "like it used to be in the past," snappy, dry, no nonsense. And Mick crosses the stage back and forth like an energizer.
Before the concert, I prepared a list of expectations, from "Ruby Tuesday" through to "Angie," "Sympathy for the Devil," "Gimme Shelter," "Miss You," "Let's Spend the Night Together," "Start Me Up" and "Satisfaction," and I waited to see what they would sing of all these, because that's the way it is when you invest a lot of money in a show. He sang "Angie," but it was a bit less Angie than Angie compared to "Paint it Black," which was great.
But the truth is that even if the Stones were not my wet dream compared to the Beatles, I would not pretend to criticize their music. And even if they would have given a bad show, I wouldn't have told you that.
Why? Because I came to the park (with all the children) out of love, as a survivor and as a fan, in order to celebrate with three wrinkled guys and the most famous person in history to ever stick out his tongue, who challenged the conservative world before we all dared to.
Some information for those not in the know: Keith Richards and Mick Jagger founded the band in 1962 because they grew up in the same town, Dartford in Kent. But things rolled slowly until they were joined by Ronnie Wood and Charlie Watts, and until on July 12, 1962, they played their debut gig at the Marquee Club.
In 2014, on the day after their Yarkon Park performance, I'll just say that although most Israeli artists have been complaining for two months now that "foreigners" have stolen their audiences, it was impossible not to feel superb about the Stones, the inventors of the "Honky Tonk Woman."
So you can't always get what you want, but we definitely got a hot dish of old and unthreatening rock and attempts by Mick to pronounce many words in Hebrew ("Are you enjoying yourselves?" he asked us in his British accent).
Charlie celebrated his birthday, Keith sang to us with his acoustic guitar, Ronnie Wood looked like a Rod Stewart who had dyed his hair. And they all, with great lighting, didn't look a day over 50.
In a nutshell, we had everything there, under the Tel Aviv sky. We sang and howled along with Mick who worked the "Oooh oooh oooh" in "Miss You" like the park's jackals, and there was a lot of beer, rolling and dancing girls, rolling and dancing men and a police permit to roll the length of the show until our quiet Ramat Gan neighborhood, which borders on the part, reached the limit of its ability to tolerate the noise seeping into homes.
In the end we got "You Can't Always Get What You Want" with an Israeli choir of our own women and men, and of course the wonderful "Satisfaction."
I loved the Stones on Wednesday night, I will love them forever, and now I'm waiting for the old and wonderful lion, Neil Young.