 January 22, 2003 is the
last of two
stops at United Center in Chicago. The audience is around 20.000 people to this
show.Set list:
Street Fighting Man - You Got Me Rocking - If You Can't Rock Me - Don't Stop -
Monkey Man - Bitch - Waiting On A Friend - Neighbors - Start Me Up -
Tumbling Dice - Thru and Thru - Happy
- Sympathy For The Devil - Gimme Shelter - It's Only Rock'n'Roll - Satisfaction
- When The Whip Comes Down - Like A Rolling Stone - Brown Sugar - Jumping Jack
Flash
 Stones
get the silver--and they give us the gold
Jeff Vrabel SUN Times
Less a rock band than a perfectly tuned engine, less men than impossibly
successful hormone experiments, the Rolling Stones returned to town this week
and again proved their unparalleled skill at making people smile while beating
the crap out of their wallets.
Back for two more shows after a sold-out three-night stand in September, the
Stones brought the "Licks" tour back into the United Center with
seemingly none of the well-intentioned novelty of that last visit. No big
publicity push this time, no dipping into one of rock's most treasured catalogs,
and certainly no hot-ticket stop at the Aragon.
This was The Stones, back to business.
And business, despite that always-swirling flurry of question marks, remains
good. No one doubts that this encore swing is a cash grab, in all its
$350-for-the-best-seats glory, and indeed, the packed house seemed to shoot down
warnings about the nation's flagging economy more defiantly than the president
did when he pitched his tax cut here. Plus, there's always that age thing, and
with it the spectre of diminishing skills. Michael Jordan's playing the United
Center on Friday, too. Draw whatever metaphors you want.
But it's not like fans turned out for a groundbreaking display of
experimental virtuosity. They came for the hot rocks, and damned if the Stones
didn't deliver. There was some raggedness during Tuesday's opening salvo of
"You Got Me Rocking," "Street Fighting Man" and "If You
Can't Rock Me," but once the kids got down to business, they ripped the
joint with a fiery and exquisitely selected set, redlining during a blistering
revisiting of "Exile on Main Street" that included "Rocks
Off," "Tumbling Dice" and a note-perfect "Sweet
Virginia."
As for that age thing, sure, Charlie Watts looks like he's daydreaming, but
his spare, calculated gunshots on the drums continue to make him the glue that
holds the machine together. Watts is a marvel; when he locks in with Chica-goan
Darryl Jones' bass--which he does automatically--the results are usually
something like the locomotive groove of "Midnight Rambler" that falls
into lock-step as easily in 2003 as it does on your CDs.
The oft-shirtless Richards seems reinvigorated as well, prowling the stage as
he puffs dutifully and maintains a smirk, which is probably directed straight at
Death. Richards and Ron Wood, who kept a low profile, leveled their guitars at
"Tumbling Dice," and Keith dusted off the "Steel Wheels"
track "Slipping Away" during his turn in the spotlight. But his tour
de force--and the band's--was "Can't You Hear Me Knocking." Rich-ards'
riffs sliced through the United Center air like blades, finding room in Watts'
precision backbeats and driving the song through its faux-calypso breakdown into
a mammoth conclusion.
And then there's Mick Jagger, ever addictive and watchable in his
burlesque-house slitheriness. Jagger's voice was in fine form. He nailed a
ragged but pretty "Wild Horses" and reached back 30 years to rip up a
"Gimme Shelter" that, thanks to Lisa Fisher's soaring vocals and some
of Richards' finest work of the night, was something approaching perfection.
Jagger even tore into "Start Me Up" with an uncharacteristic fury,
especially considering the track could he heard over a car commercial in the
lobby before the show.
The Stones have no trepidation about stomping all over that intersection of
commerce and rock, between lame auto spots and razor-sharp Richards. And the
fans don't seem to want to--or remember how to--separate the two anymore. The
Stones have been so imprinted by their own marketing and arena-rock antics that
trying to remember them before is futile. But in the face of all logic, God love
them, they still know how to deliver the goods when it counts. In their own way,
by their own shady, shifting rules, the Stones in 2003 remain all business.
Given Ryan Adams' status as alt-country beacon/brat, and with his
smoke-stained voice, shaggy mane and reputation for unkempt, all-over-the-map
live performances, he seems a perfectly logical choice for a Stones opener. For
his part, Adams, last seen in Chicago at the Vic jumping off stage for a beer
and playing along with Madonna LPs, stepped up to the arena challenge nicely,
peppering his 45-minute set with organ-drenched rockers
("Firecracker") and broken-down ballads ("Touch, Feel and Lose").
With some time and discipline, Adams may be able to hold down arenas after
all. That being said, he did end his set by kicking the mike stand around and
leaving stage without a word. Didn't anyone teach him to respect his elders?
click photo for full size!
Stones Fan Club Office thong hanging on the small amp mic in front of
Charlie's drums-to Mick's left. © btwalczak All photos below © Susan Weisner
- with big thanks from us.
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