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The Rolling Stones in the press:“Jagger… Backstage” (by Lisa Robinson)
Backstage with Mick Jagger is a revelation: jovial, witty, and endlessly charming, he turns every encounter into a story. From Montauk summer houses to Madison Square Garden, Jagger’s days mix studio mastery, social flurries, and spontaneous antics, whether imitating Radar Love or teasing about ballet slippers. Amid celebrity encounters with Eric Clapton, Stevie Wonder, and Bowie, his playful energy dominates—sharp, quick, and effortlessly magnetic. Fans glimpse the private side behind the icon: a man both meticulous and mischievous, fully alive in every backstage moment. Meeting Mick Jagger isn’t just a backstage pass—it’s an unforgettable peek into rock’n’roll history.
It seems I’ve seen Mick Jagger at an awful lot of concerts this past season … and he’s always been in an incredibly good mood, jovial, talkative, friendly. His stay in Gotham lasted longer than expected; starting out renting a summer house in Montauk, Mick remained in town for business — mastering the album … well into the fall. He was a frequent visitor to Reno Sweeney’s where the divine Genevieve Waite performed on a regular basis, and his dining and social activities were duly reported in the press. But his jet-set activities aside — Jagger backstage was quite a revelation.
The first encounter was in the Oyster Bar of the Plaza Hotel, the night of Eric Clapton’s Madison Square Garden concert. We were all sort of waiting around in that wood-panelled room, the kind with the little tables and polite gentlemen who seat you. We were waiting for guitarist George Terry who seemed to be missing. Eric and Yvonne and Anni Ivil and Bilhand Rookert and Legs… and some friends of Legs … and some more friends of Legs … and the limousine drivers. So there we were, just drinking and chatting with Peter Rudge and Richard and Marilyn Cole, when all of a sudden in walks Michael Jagger. My god, I think, he doesn’t look a day over twenty-one, and I don’t care what she says, he does look a lot like Carly Simon.
So – Himself sits down and has a few with Stiggy and Eric, and it’s all very jovial. Fashion note: Eric’s wearing a sort of cream coloured suit, with a brown shirt, and Jagger’s all in white; a cute little sailor suit with elasticized waist, white trousers, white loafers, and a huge tank watch. One thing leads to another – we’re all still waiting for George Terry – and Peter Rudge, Mr. Jagger and meself talk about this and that. “How was my brother?” Jagger wanted to know. “Sweet,” I murmured.
Certainly there hadn’t been so many groupies in one place at one time as there was the week Chris played the Bottom Line, I added. His eyes widen in appreciation. “Oh me mum is ever so worried about him,” he continued, doing an expert rendition of his mum’s rap, and switching just as quickly into the most perfect imitation of “Radar Love” for Rudge’s benefit. Complete with drum rolls, bass lines, and Dutch accents. It seems as though everybody’s getting a bit tipsy by now. Are you going to go onstage, I ask innocently? “What am I going to do? Sing bleedin’ ‘Crossroads’? I mean I went on with the bleedin’ Yardbirds at the Marquee Club once … I think that was enough …”
We’re starting to get loud now, and the polite maitre d’ asks us if we’ll clear out way down the aisle. So Rudge, Michael and me adjourn to a corner sofa, Jagger still mumbling about his Chris. “Can we call him up? Is he playing tonight? Oh me mum said, ‘Oh, he’s going over there and I don’t know … I wish he wouldn’t go … I’m sooo worried … poor thing, I dunno …’” and then some more of — “Nilsson? Nilsson?” Sorry, but it was all a bit incoherent by this time.
“How old are those Golden Earrings anyway?” Jagger demands. “Come on,” Rudge says, “they started when they were 11.” We all exchange significant looks. We’re sort of leaning up against the lobster tank and again we’re told to keep our voices down. Can you imagine? “We’re keeping the lobsters company,” sez Rudge, “poor things — they’re going to die any minute.” And so we talk more of the brother, how he could move better, what he wore, (he didn’t wear makeup, did he?” Mick asked worriedly.) I say let’s hurry, Ahmet’s waiting at the Garden for us, and we’re all off in the limos. There’s some talk about a certain sweater which Jagger doesn’t like to wear any of his good clothes in front of lest he give him a good idea, and then we’re on our way.
There was something crazed about the Garden that night. Maybe it was all the backstage people were expecting some sort of super session that never materialized (Townshend was to have shown up but couldn’t get off the set of the “Tommy” film in London) — and the ambience was strange. All sorts of people were backstage, too many. Eric came on and performed well, the music was as good as can be expected in that barn. Jagger watched the show, leaning up against an amplifier, hidden from the audience, and singing along. Ahmet Ertegun and Robert Stigwood stood close by, they didn’t sing along — except when Ahmet joined in on, appropriately, “I’m living on blues power …” As I’m scribbling furiously Jagger turns to me and says, “There you go, he was wearing a white suit …” “No — actually I got that one already honey.”
Some months later Stevie Wonder sat alone in his dressing room at the Nassau Coliseum. He played softly on his Fender Rhodes electric piano as a photographer angled around to get some shots. “Hey man, just take a couple more, okay?” Stevie smiled. “I want to get my music together, figure out what I want to play.” Men from Motown started to fill up the room. There was Carl Griffin in a dynamic green outfit, (he runs Jobete Music in New York), Chris Jones, one of Stevie’s close assistants, Ira Tucker, the man who has been by Stevie’s side for the past few years, Reggie Wiggins, formerly with the Jackson Five now tour manager for Steve, and Abe Hoch, one of the new young “Record” people brought in to help the creative end of Motown’s record company.
Stevie is eventually taken into another room to be a bit more alone, but sooner or later we all end up joining there as well. Drinks are passed around, and a poster spray of white orchids arrive from “Mick” — “Hey — Mick who?” Stevie laughs this, “only a few minutes later that Mick, who has arrived into the dressing room along with John Phillips and Anni Ivil. “Everyone couldn’t come,” John said, “because we were all up all night writing.” In around and insulting everyone, John wore a red and black satin “Ode Records” baseball jacket, and Jagger had on a yellow and black plaid lumberjack jacket, yellow shirt, yellow corduroy jeans. and white loafers. Oh yes — and a white golfing cap that was to remain a favorite this season.
So much for Eleganza. We chatted about the last time we chatted, there was alot of mumbling between the Blue Nun about what had and had not been printed in the English papers about his brother, about Bowie, about how Mick never reads anything in the papers. “But Keith does,” he laughed, “he reads all of it! What, I sez, don’t you trust British journalists? … Well, I’m not only a British journalist, …” Oh, I don’t trust women either!”, he retorts. Almost by degree, a woman sidles up to us, this sort of strange girl … dressed very simply in a dark blue dress with coral necklace for adornment. She wants to meet Mick, and one of the men around Stevie obliges.
She smiles at him beatifically and says, “Are you into meditation?” Uh-oh. But Jagger replies politely, “Ummm yes, but not for anything spiritual, just for rest.” “Oh,” she breathes … “Deep Rest if verry good.” As she goes on a bit about deep rest, Mick gets a bit nudgy, and as she’s just about to get into the heavy rap about TM (that’s transcendental meditation for the uninitiated) Mick does his best soft shoe shuffle to disentangle himself. I guess he’s had alot of practice. Are you really into meditation, I ask. “Only when I take acid,” he replies, stonefaced.
He talked a bit about the new lp. “One side was too long,” he siad, “it was twenty five minutes. They could do it if they wanted to – I think. They say it distorts the sound, but I dunno … I wanted to master it in L.A. because the facilities are so great there, but something was wrong with the parts and we couldn’t. So they had to fly the parts back and forth between here and England – that’s why it took so long.”
We talked a bit about Bowie’s show, Mick did a perfectly splendid imitation of Rudi Nureyev … “when is ze limousine coming?” … and “How long do we sit through this?” and then tsked-tsked at me thinking I was trying to get him to put Bowie down. I wouldn’t do that, I mutter … “Well, I’m not going to put him down – even if he can’t sing,” Mick laughs … “Ha-ha, that’s a little joke …”
Well – he did do “Knock On Wood” pretty well, I venture, and those adorable little ballet slippers that he ripped off from you are so adorable … “Oh so many people have mentioned those ballet slippers to me,” Mick said, rolling his eyes. But that mime, I say … “Oh – I like that,” Mick protests. Then some more talk about Madison Square Garden and how difficult it is to play there. “That was really the first time I was in the audience at the Garden,” Mick said. “For Bowie – and the sound was really awful.” It’s been better, I say, better when the Stones were there. “He’s a better singer,” John Phillips mutters. “No – I’ve been out at the crowd for alot of other gigs,” Jagger says,”and yet this – at the Garden, it was amazing. The first time I’d done that, and people are just walking all around … it’s very strange.”
All of a sudden I notice that there’s this … diamond in one of Mick’s front teeth. “Oooooh,” I squeal, “what is that!” “Oh, I did in 1972,” he mumbles … and refuses to grin anymore, closing his lips tight so that it’s not visible. Better watch out, I say, everyone will want one.
And so it went. The last time I saw himself backstage was at Nassau for Eric Clapton, and the missus was with him. Bianca had just arrived from England, and Mick and friend (and photographer) Peter Beard had gone to the airport to pick Bianca, their baby Jade, and the nanny up – and then Mr. and Mrs. came straight to the Coliseum to catch Eric the Cee on his return tour. While the backstage area was pretty crowded, and Mick and Bianca stood close together, every so often Mr. J would lean over and mumble something like “There’s five people onstage, three men and two women and there’s a red spotlight on them” … and then after “Willie and the Hand Jive” had gone on a bit longish, Mick leaned over to me and giggled, “and he said that he thought this number went on a bit too long, he said. “Little devil – once again, managing to Get Himself Into the Stories That He Never Reads. Mick Jagger backstage is most definitely someone that you’d all love to meet.”
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