By Jon Roe
The Rolling Stones were announced as the half-time show for January’s Super Bowl, which with each passing incarnation becoming more like a big commercial than an actual sporting event. Everyone remembers the “wardrobe malfunction” of two years ago, and NFL officials are eager to avoid any controversy. The NFL has done well in choosing the Rolling Stones as their half-time circusĀ–the Stones will do everything as expected: a set-list that will undoubtedly include “Satisfaction,” “Start Me Up” or both, some half-baked strutting in place of dancing and nothing outrageous. One could argue that they don’t need exposed breasts to sell CDs, but it is more likely that they would rather pretend than actually act rebellious.
The Stones have universal appeal, bridging most generational gaps. Baby boomers hold them in high nostalgic regard and younger generations grew up with the Stones’ weighted radio play of classic rock stations. Once the theme songs of disobedient teens everywhere, anthems like “Start Me Up” have become sterile family-friendly rock, ready to promote pretty much anything. In 1995 the Stones were bought to the tune of $13 million by Bill Gates and his Microsoft crew to use “Start Me Up” to launch Windows 95. Sanitized and willing, the Stones make an excellent act to march out for an event like the Super Bowl. For a group who made their name living the life of sexed-up coke addicted rebels, one would think they would find this appalling. But rather than resisting the change, the Stones are riding the marketing machine, even signing on to every housewives’ favourite soap opera Days of Our Lives, in a new episode featuring a scene at a Stones concert. Suddenly the music takes a back seat to image and monetary interest.
Rather than admit that they’ve slowed down, and as the call of the grave becomes louder, the Stones continue to perpetuate the illusion they are hard-rockin’ party animals when they’re about as exciting as a youth group. New Stones albums, like this year’s A Bigger Bang, will sell based entirely on this antiquated image of the Stones. The albums are obviously not moved on content because they still sell at a respectable rate despite dwindling in aural mediocrity for the better part of the last 20 years. The Stones are the now the Fonz. Sure, he looks cool in the leather jacket, sitting on a bike, but you’d never see him snort a line of coke off a hooker’s ass or shank some fool for not paying a debt. Somehow it just doesn’t fit with the Happy Days image.
The Stones have converted themselves into a still image of what they once were and in the process the ‘greatest rock n’ roll band of all time,’ as fans would call them, they have become the antithesis to rock: music for ‘the man.’ From Days of Our Lives to Super Bowl XL, the Rolling Stones use whatever medium available to promote their cartoonish image. They will continue to release mediocre CDs as an excuse to tour every few years, tricking unsuspecting fans to buy into a marketing tool designed more to hawk $100 concert tickets and $40 t-shirts. This will continue until all of them lie in eternal slumber in their Microsoft sponsored coffins, stuffed to the brim with dead presidents to bring with them to the afterlife.
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