"Inside Mick Jagger and Keith Richards’s Five-Decade Bromance"


I’ve been accused of loving Keith more than I love Mick. That’s not true. It’s only that Mick scares me. There’s reassurance in talking to Keith. He stands for survival. There’s nothing you’ve done he’s not overdone—nothing you’ve suffered he’s not survived. Here is Methuselah, perhaps not infinitely wise but infinitely experienced. He can teach you how to remain dignified in a fallen age. But what can you learn from Mick? Mick is Elvis in a gold lamé jacket. Mick is Michael Jackson moonwalking across time. One in a million, a freak of nature. Can’t be copied, only enjoyed. The unknowability of Jagger, who is not understood because he does not want to be; who gives only what needs to be given; who has mastered the pro athlete’s trick of answering everything while saying nothing. Mystery is power. Distance is charisma. You want to peg him and walk away but can’t, so keep listening forever. It’s a paradox. Mick Jagger is overexposed and yet remains hidden. He’s among the most famous people in the world, but who is he really? Does anyone know? Does even he know? Here is the rock star in Platonic form.