London - When Mick Jagger and Keith Richards shared a flat in Chelsea’s Edith Grove in 1963, they could not have imagined that more than 50 years later that same apartment would be recreated at one of London’s most famous art galleries.
Yet that’s exactly what’s on view at the new Rolling Stones exhibition at the Saatchi Gallery in the Duke of York’s Headquarters in Chelsea.
In addition to their instruments, tour posters, album covers, clothes and assorted memorabilia, four rooms are given over to recreating the squalor of their Swinging Sixties bachelor pad, complete with unwashed dishes, overflowing ashtrays and a half-eaten tin of Heinz chicken soup.
It is oddly reminiscent of Tracey Emin’s Bed, an “installation piece” unveiled at the Tate Gallery in 1998 and shortlisted for the Turner Prize, but now regarded as the nadir of the Young British Artistmovement.
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Ironically, that “piece” was first owned by ad guru Charles Saatchi, after whom the Saatchi Gallery is named.
Jagger and Richards are less than nostalgic about their Edith Grove lair. Jagger, 72, described it as having “sick everywhere, dirty plates, dirty food”, but said he was not too shocked by the conditions, as his son, too, had recently lived like that.
“It was a pigsty, basically,” says Richards, whose nicotine-enriched, laconic growl is piped into almost every room, along with the voices of assorted flunkies and admirers, including the film director Martin Scorsese, who pops up on a screen to promote Shine A Light, his 2008 documentary about the band.
The only room that doesn’t feature a grizzled, rock ’n’ roll voiceover is the largest space in the exhibition – the gift shop. But then that room speaks for itself.
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Fancy a leather backgammon set with the Rolling Stones logo of a tongue hanging out of two large red lips? Yours for just £4 100 (R88 000).
Or a signed poster of the band’s 50th anniversary tour? A snip at £350.
If that’s a bit rich for your blood, there’s always a Rolling Stones Turnbull & Asser tie, on sale at the bargain price of £125.
As far as I could tell, one of the only affordable items is the appropriately named Official Mug. That’s exactly how I felt after shelling out £22 to visit this shrine to the most self-indulgent, vainglorious band in the history of rock ’n’ roll.
To get a sense of just how far these pop idols have fallen, it’s worth lingering in the room devoted to the origins of that famous logo of the inflated lips. According to designer John Pasche, it was intended to capture the band’s youthful, rebellious attitude – sticking a tongue out at the British Establishment. Today, it has become a symbol of the worst excesses of tax-dodging and capitalist greed.
In the ’60s, Jagger and Richards were among the high priests of the counter-culture, disdaining capitalist “bread heads” and giving free concerts in Hyde Park.
But those days are long behind them. According to Forbes magazine in 2002, the Stones were the world’s first “billion-dollar band”.
Since 1989, they’ve amassed a fortune of £1.8 billion from touring alone, much of it from selling mass-produced tat at ludicrously marked-up prices.
Their last tour was the most lucrative yet, netting £250 million plus; and Sir Mick himself is worth more than £200m, placing him among the five richest lead singers in the world.
Few people will be surprised to find the owner of the Stones’ private bank among the clients of Mossack Fonseca in the Panama Papers leak. Needless to say, the original drawings for the logo aren’t on display, since they were sold at auction for £50 000 in 2008.
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No doubt this exhibition will help the money-addicted septuagenarians rake in many more millions. But the fact is that this is not a warts-and-all portrait, more of a hagiographic tribute compiled by the band’s marketing chief.
It reminded me of one of those official ceremonies in Pyongyang to celebrate the birthday of Kim Jong-un, “Supreme Leader” of North Korea.
There are numerous references to the extraordinary sexual charisma of Mick Jagger, with film footage of adoring female fans projected onto every available surface.
Weirdly, none of his numerous ex-partners, be it Jerry Hall, Bianca Jagger or late fashion designer L’Wren Scott, gets a look in – the same fate that befell model and actress Marsha Hunt when she was bold enough to ask His Satanic Majesty for child support.
In one room, we’re treated to an encomium to the extraordinary musicianship of Bill Wyman, the band’s 79-year-old ex-bass guitarist.
But there’s nary a mention of his relationship with Mandy Smith, the troubled teenager whom he started dating when he was 47 and she 13. Another room is given over to the dozen or so films made of the Rolling Stones in concert, but a veil is discreetly drawn over Mick Jagger’s disastrous attempts to be taken seriously as a Hollywood leading man.
His performance as Ned Kelly in the 1970 film of the same name is widely credited with ending the career of the celebrated British director Tony Richardson.
Perhaps more to the point, there’s no acknowledgement of the fact that Jagger has been misfiring as a singer-songwriter in more recent years.
As you wander through the halls of this temple, you’d be forgiven for thinking that the Stones never made a bad record.
In one room, there’s a video clip of the band’s long-term producer Don Was explaining what it is that makes them “the most successful rock ’n’ roll band of all time”.
“They are relentless in pursuit of the good take,” he says, recalling the many hours he’s spent in the recording studio with them.
“I think there’s a real awareness that the great enemy is mediocrity. It’s not good enough to be OK, and the reason they have lasted so long is because they have refused to accept OK.”
That will be news to anyone who’s bought a Stones album made in the past 35 years. Even hardcore fans acknowledge the band hasn’t produced anything of merit since Some Girls in 1978, and that was a long way off their peak in the ’60s. The tragedy of the Rolling Stones is that, unlike The Beatles, they didn’t break up in 1970.
The climax of the exhibition – the last room you enter – is 3D footage of the band playing Satisfaction from their most recent tour. We’re shown footage of a man clutching his head in awe – he just can’t believe they’re that good – and a beautiful young woman with tears of gratitude streaming down her face.
That’s certainly not how I felt. On the contrary, at the conclusion of my visit, I regretted not donating the £22 entrance fee to the more deserving Chelsea pensioners at the Royal Hospital across the street. At the party to celebrate the opening of this exhibition on Monday night, drummer Charlie Watts was asked what he liked best about it.
“Paying at the door,” he said.
That just about sums up these shameless old hacks. With a combined age of 286, isn’t it about time they considered retirement?
Toby Young, Daily Mail