In the June 9, 1975, issue of People magazine, Mick Jagger, who was just about to turn 32, offered the following comments on the future of the Rolling Stones: “I only meant to do it for two years. I guess the band would just disperse one day and say goodbye. I would continue to write and sing, but I’d rather be dead than sing ‘Satisfaction’ when I’m 45.”
There are two lessons to be learned from the above: 1) Don’t make any rash statements when you are silly and young; and 2) It’s great to not be dead, to celebrate your 72nd birthday today, and to still be jumping around on a stage playing not just “Satisfaction,” but plenty of the other more-than-150 songs you have cowritten over your illustrious career.
“I was born in a cross-fire hurricane, and I howled at my ma in the driving rain,” Jagger alleged in one of his most famous songs, “I was raised by a toothless, bearded hag.” But alas, like so many of us, the truth is far more prosaic—he was a middle-class British lad, attended the London School of Economics, and I am sure his mum was very nice.
But what does it matter? Poetic license is what gives art, and life, meaning, and if a half-century of bad-boy antics has stirred the rebellious hearts of teenagers all over the globe, well, then, Sir Mick, you have rendered a great service.
Catch your dreams before they slip away! Happy birthday, Mick.
