It's been a tough month for octogenarians who refuse to leave the stage in America. So let's just be thankful that the Rolling Stones are still lighting up stadiums as ferociously as ever.
On Wednesday at SoFi Stadium, the Stones did exactly what they’ve done for decades: They hit the road to promote a new rock and ‘n’ roll album, last year’s fresh, riff-filled “Hackney Diamonds.” They would have had every right to make this round of shows a nostalgia trip for fans, particularly after losing beloved drummer Charlie Watts in 2021.
But as America grapples with a culture ruled by gerontocracy, the Stones refused to be sentimental Wednesday night. This band is playing at the highest level, capable of generating surprising and thrilling onstage moments that have created history rather than pandering to it.
For all the decades of dark glamour and jaw-dropping excess, Mick Jagger, Keith Richards and Ronnie Wood still walk across the stage to that famous, self-effacing introduction: “Ladies and gentlemen, the Rolling Stones.” Since the Johnson administration, it has been rock ’n’ roll’s most sacred and trusted covenant.
Mick Jagger performs with the Rolling Stones at SoFi Stadium in Inglewood on Wednesday.
(Gina Ferazzi/Los Angeles Times)
However, with the death of Watts, famous for his calm and steady jazzy style behind the drums, it was fair to wonder how long that arrangement would last. Contrary to all the evidence so far, the Stones will hang up their pants one day.
Well, keep waiting. From that honking riff on “Start Me Up” to the restless pulse of “(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction,” the Stones roared and purred like a well-kept Aston Martin, reasserting the dangerous pleasures of their catalog today as they did in 1964 and will in 2064.
If you’re desperate for the world, at least be thankful for this: We’re alive to see the mastery and vigor Jagger conveys on every stage. Those lithe little hip movements, the shirt flapping in the night breeze; that perfectly clipped R&B enunciation on “Beast of Burden.” Don’t believe him when he jokes that “our first show in San Bernardino was so long ago some of you might think we’d been dragged out of the La Brea tar pits.” He can still evoke that latent lust just by shoving a microphone through his waistband.
Richards is also to be reckoned with. The legendary, unbeatable Stone was in great form on Wednesday night and took advantage of the age limits.
SoFi Stadium has become the stage for every great pop show of our time, a place where backing tracks are a prerequisite for the spectacular spectacle required. But we maintain that nothing sounds better in that venue than an over-the-top, frighteningly loud, bone-chilling riff from Richards.
The Stones' hits — “Paint It Black,” “Jumpin' Jack Flash,” “Tumbling Dice” — glowed with an ancient but still scorching geothermal power at SoFi Stadium on Wednesday night.
(Gina Ferazzi/Los Angeles Times)
Wood does the most fretboard acrobatics in the band these days, but when Richards leans into “Midnight Rambler” as Jagger howls about Robert Johnson’s hellhounds, he’s really touching the flame. That sad, stark minor chord that opens the verses of “Wild Horses” sounded even more haunting when played by those hands in 2024. When Richards sang “Everyone is asking questions, yeah / I got one too… Is the future all in the past?” on “Tell Me Straight,” you could feel him spitting back at Reaper.
The hits — Paint It Black, Jumpin' Jack Flash, Tumbling Dice — glowed with a geothermal power, ancient but still searing. The band reveled in what “Honky Tonk Women” can draw out of a slightly tipsy audience, now spanning three generations.
Even the tracks on “Hackney Diamonds” showed the Stones’ relentless tendency to push forward. There’s a reason they turned to young producer Andrew Watt, the boomer whisperer of contemporary rock, for their first LP of original material since 2005. “Angry” and “Mess It Up” were perfectly calibrated for this moment in the Stones: seething riffs and the carefree attitude of a band supremely confident in its resonance.
If you're desperate for the world, at least be thankful for this: we're alive to see the mastery and vigor that Mick Jagger brings to every stage.
(Gina Ferazzi/Los Angeles Times)
Much of the credit goes to the pliable backing band the Stones recruited. Drummer Steve Jordan inhabited Watts's style with honor and power, keyboardist Chuck Leavell played exquisite piano solos, and Chanel Haynes brought a Tina Turner-worthy dynamism to the backing vocals. (So did Michael Trotter Jr. and Tanya Trotter of War and Treaty, who opened the set with majestic Southern soul.)
Even if we look to the Stones for the crushed velvet and silver jewelry, the grimaces and pouts and communal rituals of stadium rock, the band remains unsatisfied. There are no maudlin tributes, not even to their own. There are no memory lanes to walk down. Just guitars and the devil, battling through the incandescent final years of the greatest rock band we're likely to ever have.
