On the heels of the very 80s Dirty Work, The Rolling Stones were a band that appeared to be on their way to retirement.
Mick and Keith, who always enjoyed their share of conflict, were on the outs (again)- at odds over the direction of the band, and many of the rest of the personnel busied themselves in the period before recording the album working on various side or solo projects.
Unlike critics (what the fuck do they know, anyway?), I actually enjoyed Dirty Work. But I couldn't argue against the band seeming to be in their sunset years, seeing as Dirty Work and its predecessor, Undercover, sold poorly. Three years after Dirty Work, the band's "comeback" album- Steel Wheels- was released.
It was a monster seller, with three top ten singles and supported by the biggest tour the band had ever undertaken.
It was also the first opportunity I had to see a band I'd been listening to since childhood, so I dialed and dialed and dialed and dialed and dialed for seemingly hours before getting through to Ticketmaster. I scored tickets to see the band at the Gator Bowl. They were $45 each- which I thought was fucking outrageous (little did I know I'd later pay six times, without even batting an eye y see Paul McCartney), but I was still psyched to see the show with my neighbor, Jeff.
We piled into my Civic and headed to Jacksonville the afternoon of the concert, getting there in plenty of time to catch the opening set from Living Colour- at the time an unknown group who'd managed to score a prime gig. (Side note- while I enjoyed the hell out of their performance, there were plenty of- let's just say "older" fans who I heard bitching that they were too loud and too heavy. Unspoken, though obvious even to 21 year old me, was the fact that those same "older" fans thought they were "too black.")
The opened the show with Start Me Up (of course- what else would they open with?) on the way to two and half hours (give or take) of of straight-forward rock and roll- and plenty of showmanship.
And, behind it all, the nearly perfect percussion of Charlie Watts. The show led me to explore the band a little more in-depth, listening to deep cuts of past albums and appreciating the skill behind them. And particularly of Watts, who played what needed to be played- nothing more, nothing less. He was never flashy, never the outsized personality. He was steady. He was dependable. He was the beat of the band.
Watts bowed out of the band's current tour just last month to have surgery for a condition that was never shared with the public. He said he hoped it would be a temporary thing- that he would be back with the band as soon as he was able. Sadly, that reunion was not to be.
Charlie Watts passed away early this morning at a London hospital, surrounded by his family. And the world will rock a little less because of it.