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Not fade away: Mick Jagger on the trials of life at 65It's not very rock'n'roll, but Mick Jagger, the man who brought us 'Sympathy for the Devil', supermodel girlfriends and skin-tight jeans, recently acquired OAP status. So has he mellowed with age? James Mottram finds out08 NOVEMBER 2008
Before Mick Jagger enters the hotel room, I'm half expecting to be reminded of the opening line of The Rolling Stones' old number "Mother's Little Helper".
You know the bit, as Jagger whines in that unmistakable voice of his, "What a drag it is getting old". This has been, after all, a watershed year for the Stones' lead singer. Turning 65 in July, all those jokes about the wrinkly rocker being old enough to collect his pension finally came true. Sir Mick – as he became in 2003 – is now officially an OAP. Not that he's ready to curl up with his cocoa just yet.
It's around 2pm when he finally arrives, a good half-hour late. "I didn't go to bed until five o'clock," he says, with a measure of pride, perhaps because it runs contrary to the image painted of him in the tabloids by his ex-wife Jerry Hall, that of a couch potato who likes an early night. He had spent the night partying with the other Stones in Berlin; if it got out of hand, it doesn't show. While the excesses of a rock'n'roll lifestyle may have taken their toll on his fellow band member Keith Richards, Jagger looks in remarkable shape. Rather like his slightly sucked-in cheeks, Jagger's torso, I imagine, is almost concave, as if he's had the flesh vacuumed out of him.
The Dartford-born singer puts his preternaturally skinny physique down to being raised in the aftermath of the Second World War. "It's the diet we had when we ......... were children," he smiles. "There was very little food, basically, and no junk food and no sugar." Never mind that his father, Joe, was a games teacher and relatively affluent compared to some. "Yeah, but that didn't get you any more food," he adds. "Teachers don't earn much money. Not to labour the point, but they think this is one reason why our generation doesn't get fat – unless you drink lots of beer, of course."
While the only things plump about him are those famous lips – more pink than bright red, as the Stones marketing might have us believe – he says "there's no secret" to staying fit. "You just have to do a bit of work when you get over 30. You have to go to the gym. Before 30, you don't really have to worry." Dressed in a striped shirt, lilac jumper and black jeans, lines already clustering around those ice-blue eyes, Jagger wisely makes no attempt to look younger by dressing up in rock-star clobber.
This is the third time I've encountered Jagger, though it's as if I've been in the presence of three different men. The first was pure accident, as I glimpsed him mooching around Selfridges' furniture department about five years ago. Making no attempt to conceal his identity with sunglasses or the like, he looked disarmingly ordinary – perhaps that's why he was able to browse through the store almost unnoticed. The second time, I saw the side most of us know: Jagger the Showman, doing what he does best. It was on stage during the Stones' recent A Bigger Bang tour, a two-year marathon jaunt around the globe that, after reportedly taking $558m, has become the highest-grossing tour of all time.
If you read anything about Jagger, it usually centres on his remarkable stage energy, undiluted despite his advancing years. Even now, there's still something animal about him in the spotlight. Does he see performance as an almost sexual act? "Is it like sex?" he ponders. "I don't know. Is there an orgasmic moment? Not that there necessarily has to be in sex. It's a different kind of thing. Often times, you have to be more calculated about what you do." It recalls Truman Capote's comment in light of touring with the band; that everything he saw "had been coolly and efficiently manufactured by the Stones and their managers". You don't get to last 46 years in the music business by leaving things to chance.
It's Jagger's vim and vigour that fuels Shine a Light, the band's first concert movie since 1983's Let's Spend The Night Together, which has just been released on DVD. Directed by long-time Stones fan Martin Scorsese, it captures the band's gig at New York's Beacon Theatre, a pit-stop during the Bigger Bang tour. Even with Scorsese's involvement, it doesn't come close to touching the likes of the notorious fly-on-the-wall documentary @#$%& Blues, which detailed the band's drug-fuelled 1972 US tour, or Gimme Shelter, the seminal account of the 1969 Altamont gig when a Hell's Angel stabbed a fan to death. Not that Jagger wanted another behind-the-scenes documentary. "It's a bit of a cliché, Marty and I felt, doing the backstage stuff. Everyone's done that."
If the film is primarily a straight-up concert movie, it does hint at what a giant corporate machine The Rolling Stones have become, with Jagger leading the charge. One early shot sees him sitting in First Class, sipping champagne and working on the set-list for the show. As tongue-in-cheek as it is, it highlights a core truth: much of the Stones' success comes down to Jagger micro-managing the band's business affairs. As he puts it, "I don't think anyone else in the band is the slightest bit interested in that part of it. As long as it's successful." It was he who pushed the Stones into becoming the first band to truly exploit the money to be made from tours and merchandise.
Estimates vary, but Jagger's now worth in the region of £150m – and it's certainly convenient to think of the former economics student as an omniscient control freak, a man the US press dubbed "the greatest businessman in rock'n'roll history". In person, he's aloof and wary, not......... the charming stumble-drunk that is Keith Richards. Rarely given to introspection, he's uncomfortable being interviewed. Thus, in Kevin Macdonald's documentary Being Mick, showing him up close and personal with his numerous children, it was almost a given that this was an entirely manufactured exercise. Or as Jagger explains, slipping into a Nazi commandant voice as he does so, "It was all within my control."
It's understandable, given how little control he has over the reams of tabloid column inches his life has generated. Jagger has been painted as so many different personas: the gangly, blues-loving teen, the Crowley-esque dabbler in diabolism (inspired by the classic track "Sympathy for the Devil"), the sexually promiscuous rock star (dating everyone from Carla Bruni to Sophie Dahl), and the cricket-loving country gent. As he puts it, "People seem to find it hard to accept that you can be several people at the same time." Not least playing a gyrating hipster on stage. "Of course it's a different persona," he argues. "If you came to a dinner party as your stage persona, he wouldn't be a very welcome guest!"
Currently dating the stylist L'Wren Scott, who is more than two decades his junior, Jagger likes to promote himself as the doting father. There is Karis, who came from his brief affair with the singer Marsha Hunt; Jade, from his first marriage to Bianca; his four children with Jerry Hall – Elizabeth, 24, James, 23, Georgia, 16, and Gabriel, 11. Then there's nine-year-old Lucas, the product of a three-month affair with the Brazilian model Luciana Morad that effectively ended his two decades together with Hall. At one point, when discussing the band's former bassist Bill Wyman, he tells me, "I saw him at my kid's 16th birthday party." The mind boggles at what this bash was like – Jagger playing responsible parent to a bunch of rowdy teens is an amusing prospect.
Now nearly teetotal, there's nothing he likes more than eight hours sleep a night and Jagger is far removed from the likes of Jimi Hendrix and Jim Morrison, who lived fast and died young. "Most people did survive," he counters. "It's how you came out the other side and what shape you're in, I suppose." In Jagger's case, he'd been a whipping boy for the establishment – after the Stones became involved in a landmark drugs bust when Richards' Sussex mansion was raided in 1967. "Looking back it was very funny," he reflects, "but it wasn't at the time very funny. It completely took over our lives creatively. We couldn't do this or that. You had to spend all your time dealing with the police. We definitely were being targeted. It was quite a common thing really."
For the record, Jagger doesn't believe narcotics were particularly helpful in the songwriting process that he and Richards got down to a fine art. "I think they're overrated as a creative method," he says. Certainly, having watched his former band member, Brian Jones, head down a path into narcotic-fuelled oblivion before he wound up dead in a swimming pool, Jagger has been wise to remain relatively restrained. Far more dangerous to him was the aftermath of the Altamont gig. It was revealed earlier this year that a bunch of Hell's Angels plotted to kill Jagger after he sacked them as stage security following the concert stabbing. Plotting to raid his Long Island property by boat, their plan was foiled when a storm nearly sunk their craft. Yet in many ways, this sort of incident only serves to further the media mystique that surrounds Jagger and the Stones.
"I think journalism helped make the Stones dangerous and respectable all at the same time," he says. "After you've been around for 10 or 15 years, you can't be either a) new or b) subversive. People that try to be subversive for more than 10 years, you'll never get anywhere. So people get used to that whole idea. By the mid-1970s, it was very difficult. That's why punk tried to remake this subversive rock moment." So how does he see rock'n'roll now? "It's another time, but there are people still doing what we did. There are tons of bands, looking like they're playing guitars! Millions of them. I see them all the time." .........
Another side to Jagger is his movie work. Shine a Light aside, Jagger has enjoyed a rather indifferent career as a movie producer, beginning in 2001 with the Second World War code-cracking thriller Enigma for his company Jagged. This year, he produced The Women, a remake of the 1939 George Cukor comedy starring Rosalind Russell and Joan Crawford. Despite a cast including Meg Ryan, Annette Bening and Eva Mendes, the film took just $26m in the US and garnered some scathing reviews ("a witless, straining mess," said the New York Times). "It gives me a different outlet," he explains, vaguely, when I ask him why he does it.
One can't help but think that Jagger is in it merely to dabble – rather like his four solo albums, including 2001's much-maligned Goddess in the Doorway, or his intermittent acting career. While his screen debut as a debauched rock star in Performance was hardly stretching him, his follow-up as the lead in 1970s outlaw story Ned Kelly left him looking faintly ridiculous in a wispy beard and iron helmet. Since then, his roles, from a time-travelling bounty hunter in Freejack to a cross-dressing cabaret owner in Bent, have been idiosyncratic to say the least.
So what attracts him to a part? "I don't know," he shrugs. "Sometimes I get offered little quirky roles and if I like the idea and I feel good at the time, I'll just do them. You never know how a film is going to turn out. There can be great people involved and it can turn out rubbish, so it's always a leap in the dark." Still, it's understandable why he does it: Jagger, by nature a performer, can't always be on stage. He is certainly aware of just how addictive it is. "You don't really want to be doing it all the time. Like when you're young, you think if you're not having sex, you're wasting your time. But as you get older you realise everything has its place."
It's the same thing with performance, he says. "You don't want to be thinking, 'I'm not performing tonight. Why am I not performing? I'm just going out to dinner with my friends – I should be on stage somewhere!' So it's a great thing to do but you don't want to be doing it all the time. But a lot of people are like that – a lot of actors. They do eight shows a week on stage. It's addictive. And if they don't go straight into the next one, they don't think that their life's worth living. I mean, you go to dinner with some comedians and they're trying out their jokes on you. They're still on. I'm not saying I'm boring, but you have to have a regular life. You don't want to be a performer all the time. You don't want me on the table singing."
It must be strange for Jagger, who now has homes all over the world – from the Loire Valley to Mustique and beyond – to realise how far he's come. After the Stones' first single, their 1963 cover of Chuck Berry's "Come On", Jagger admits he had no conception the band would last the next two years, let alone any further. "You didn't expect the work to go on and keep coming. You just do it for a year or two ... but it wasn't like we were going to break up or anything." Yet the band came close to implosion in the 1980s, when Jagger began to pursue a solo career and he and Richards began squabbling over songwriting credits.
In the end, after Jagger's 1988 US solo tour was cancelled due to poor ticket sales, the Stones embarked on their hugely successful campaign to promote Steel Wheels, arguably the last album of any value they produced.
The Stones have lasted a further two decades, despite the departure in 1993 of Wyman, and show no signs of stopping. Does he know why they stuck it out?
"Because we were successful," he says. "I don't think we stayed together only for the success, but if we hadn't had the success, we wouldn't have stayed together. You need those two things – the love of doing it and the love of other people wanting you to do it." While Jagger claims he doesn't "feel there's a pressure to go on being sexy", I wonder if he wakes up at night, worrying about not being able to deliver on stage?
"Sure," he replies, "but don't look at the clouds of tomorrow through the sunshine of today!" Now that's sound advice from Sir Mick.