Easter Sunday

I tried not to write about this particular experience, because so many things have been written about it - both positive and negative - I felt my contribution may just be another "bit of writing". But then I thought "ah, what the heck.." - and in light of more recent events around one of the musicians, I now feel compelled to...

Warm and overcast - a slight threat of rain in the air. More palpable, though, was the sense of expectation and excitement. We trudged downhill, past the Killing Rooms (musician's practise space) on Chinaman's Hill, toward the stadium - and the closer we got, the more we felt the "buzz". Four relatively ordinary Englishmen were the reason. I say "relatively" because they are people, just like us - eating, sleeping, procreating, creating.... These particular four, though, defy description for their achievements in the music industry. 40 plus years of it. What can you feel but awe and respect? Like 'em or loathe 'em - they've done their yards and they are still giving back what energy and life they have left to those who put them (and keep them) there.

Lining up at what feels like a starting gate at a race track - albeit with thousands of other "racers" - the countdown begins to 5:30 pm - gates open time. When they open an excited cheer goes up into the humid air. Everyone is smiling, laughing, chatting with eachother - no one stands on ceremony here, we ALL have one thing in common. We have come to see, arguably, the greatest rock 'n' roll band the world has ever seen. Certainly the one with the most longevity.

We shuffle - slowly and excitedly - toward the gate keeper closest to us. I have a "moment" that for some reason my tickets won't be right, or allow us entry - the doomsayer aspect of my consciousness. I block it in favour of the huge rush of adrenaline that hits me suddenly and leaves me quite breathless. My heart starts to pound - my instincts and reactions become sharpened.... I feel as though I am about to dive into an icy cold, crystal clear pool in the midst of a lovely forest clearing. The environment I am in, though, couldn't be more different!

The guy takes the tickets and we are in!!! Shuffling determinedly toward our goal - a good spot on the hill! Having arrived early, our chances are good. We send the young one - my 21 year old daughter - racing across the steep grassy grade towards a hillock formed over an old tree stump. She arrives - blanket flying behind her like a weird kind of Superman's cape - and crows triumphantly as we approach. Its perfect! No sliding down the hill, bracing against the steep incline, for US tonight! We perch happily and warmly on our blanket, wrapping our coats around us for security more than warmth, and send the "young one" off for drinks and rubbish food. She goes happily - its her first big gig, and a huge adventure. It is also her 21st birthday present.

For the first time I look at the stage and I am utterly awed. The backdrop, the lighting and PA rig, all huge and overstated. I wonder at the work, organisation, money and co-ordination that has gone into all this and I am awed all over again - having done that myself on a tiny scale in comparison, I know the stresses, the challenges, the sense of achievement when its done, that happens around it. I remain, gobsmacked and speechless, staring at it all.

Millie chuckles at the attempts of some audience members to teeter up the hill in high heels. What were they thinking? Veterans of such circumstances, we smugly smile at eachother. I notice Millie's shining and expectant face, and I wonder if mine looks the same.

The first band begins just as the young one returns with ice creams - the drinks stand was too crowded to wait at. The band does its job of working up the audience and promoting the big act to come - they have a hard job to do. No one is there for them - and they know it. But they do the work with aplomb and professionalism. Its worth it, to play to 55,000 people and we honour their part in it all with hoots, hollers and applause at the end of each song they present. They are using a minimal amount of the lights and speakers available, and do a fine job.

After an hour, it stops - and the buzz in the air is electric. Not long now...! Everyone is smiling, yelling out to friends, phoning to tell them where to look (no hope in the dark, in the crowd, but the effort is there...). My phone vibrates constantly, people wanting to know how it's going, what the stage is like, where we etc - and I ignore them all. We paid, we shall experience. I'll tell 'em all about it later....

The lights dim, the fireworks at the front of stage go up in a huge explosion of light and the smell of gunpowder. It's an impressive display - and when the smoke clears, the HUGE rolling tongue appears on the massive backdrop behind the stage. And they are there - Jagger strutting and gesticulating as the first song begins - its Honky Tonk Woman. So familiar, and my emotions and my thoughts rush back to my childhood and teenage years, which were frameworked by this and many other songs by these men. I struggle to remain in the present - trying not to be distracted by the cellular memory that is threatening to overwhelm the occasion. I listen, I am entranced, I watch the big screen for the close ups, and I watch the real men on that huge stage, like ants running back and forth to the "queen ant" who is Jagger. They perform like the seasoned professionals they are, and I find myself more impressed by the fact that they are actually, clearly, still enjoying themselves. The energy between them is warm, happy, fun, obvious. They are working hard, but they are having a blast!

Halfway through the gig, the stage begins to move forward - slowly - until the people at the back of the closed off area are now the people at the front! I wonder how those who paid $500 plus for the front rows are feeling about that...and I watch the delight and gratitude of those who are now metres from Jagger, who puts on his very best dancing, strutting, singing performance for them. I have a sudden urge to rush down and hug him - bringing such joy with his very presence. And he seems to understand, and honour, that place that he occupies. Keith Richards also - he plays, he smiles, he responds verbally to shouted comments - smiling and laughing the whole time. And never misses a note.

The stage rolls back again, and when in place, Jagger proceeds to run from one side ramp to the other - singing and dancing the entire time - ensuring EVERYONE at the front gets a piece of his action. A total professional and I am even more impressed than I was five minutes previously. The length of 3 footballs fields - not an easy feat to achieve for some half his age - and to sing the whole time, not one discernible drawing of breath to demonstrate any effort, is stunning. 62 years of age - I want to prostrate myself at his feet in worship.

I start to do the sums in my head - the income from ticket sales alone, a broad estimate of cost to set up stage and pay the wages of the crew involved. Take off the travel costs and the promotional costs..... These guys will walk away with around a six million dollar profit from this night alone. Yep, I can see the motivation. But the enjoyment and the commitment is also clear - it isn't staged or insincere.

The music ends - and the three front men move to back of the stage to escort an almost completely blind Charlie Watts from the drumkit, and guide him to the front of the stage with them. They link hands, they bow, they wave, the yell and shout their thanks. Charlie throws his drums sticks into the audience, and Keith Richards throws his guitar picks - there is a mad scramble at the front of the crowd where they fall. Richards laughs delightedly to be the cause of such chaos - and they walk off - waving and blowing kisses.

And we shuffle out - with the crowd, like a huge ungainly flock of sheep - back onto the asphalt, back up Chinaman's hill...toward the waiting cars. There is a stunned and awe filled silence among us all....the occasional "whoop" of unrestrained delight.

It's over - and I feel almost sad - this may not happen again. For any of us, musicians included. I suddenly do not understand myself, this sadness....except to justify it as the come down from the adrenaline rush of the gig.

A week later, we hear that Richards is in hospital - brain surgery, fell from a coconut tree etc etc The remainder of the tour is postponed - talk that he may never play again - though I am sure it would take death itself to stop that particular man from his calling.... And I wonder - perhaps we were the lucky last, we 55,000 - and I vow to light a candle of thanks in my heart, every night, to their health. And ongoing success. Until its really, truly over.