PLAY WITH FIRE
IT MIGHT HAVE been the first rock and roll tour of any real consequence. Today, if it’s remembered at all, it’s usually for the body count left in its wake. But Bill Wyman recalls the Rolling Stones’ 1969 American tour for a different reason. “In 1969, they listened,” the former Stones bassist says. “It was the first time that the audiences had actually listened to us.”
Woodstock may be the musical event of 1969 that defined a generation, but the Rolling Stones’ 1969 American tour set the standard for the future of rock and roll concerts. Launched in November of that year, a little more than two months after Woodstock, the cross-country jaunt isn’t regarded with the same reverence as the festival. Fans know it as the tour captured on the 1970 release Get Yer Ya-Ya’s Out!, the Stones’ second live album and a favorite concert album among those who have sunk a needle into its grooves. But the group’s U.S. hitch not only changed how rock and roll shows were presented — it also showed a new way to finance them and make a profit, opening the door to the barnstorming extravaganzas launched by artists like Led Zeppelin, Yes, Elton John and others in the 1970s and the decades that followed. It was, as Wyman notes, the start of a new time, when the fans stopped screaming and began to listen, as well as turn on and become immersed in the live-music experience.
Anyone who witnessed the British Invasion first-hand knows all too well how awful rock and roll concerts could be in the mid 1960s, when primitive sound systems were unable to project a band’s music above the noise of the crowd. As a budding guitarist looking forward to a show from your favorite players, you’d have strained to hear their instruments, whose frequency range was well matched to that of the screaming girls. You’d probably have trouble seeing the band too. Under the glare of stage lights or spots, acts played with little to no staging — no set, no props, no lighting effects. As performances went, it was as rudimentary as it could be. After sitting through three or four opening acts, the band you’d shelled out your hard-earned allowance to see came onstage and played its hits for 20 to 30 minutes before abruptly departing.
“THE STONES ACTUALLY HADN’T PLAYED TOGETHER FOR A LONG TIME, SO WHEN I JOINED THEM IT WAS LIKE A NEW BEGINNING”
— MICK TAYLOR
The Rolling Stones certainly knew the drill. Their previous U.S. tour, in 1966, in support of their album Aftermath, opened in Lynn, Massachusetts, where 17,000 fans packed the Manning Bowl for the evening’s entertainment. The outdoor show opened with the Mods, a local act who had won their spot through the promoter of a battle of the bands contest. They were followed by the McCoys, then riding high on their hit “Hang on Sloopy” and the Standells, the L.A. act whose breakthrough hit, “Dirty Water,” celebrated Boston, Lynn’s neighbor to the south. The Stones’ set, consisting of a mere 10 songs, lasted just over 30 minutes. That was short enough, but the Manning Bowl show ended early when a rainstorm broke out. Teens stormed the stage, and the police responded with tear gas. The Stones escaped to their limos and fled. “It was a bit of an outdoor crazy,” Mick Jagger recalls.”It wasn’t well secured. A few people got a bit drunk. There were a few cops, and that was the end of it.”
“Things got a little blurry in the ’60s,” Keith Richards says. “Tear gas — that was the other continuous smell of the ’60s. I can’t say I miss it.”
But by the decade’s end, much had changed in music and the youth movement. Those screaming teens had grown up. Many were now out on their own, burning their draft cards, marching to protest the Vietnam War, experimenting with drugs and defining their own place in society. Rock and roll had evolved as well, with bands like the Beatles introducing elements of spirituality in their music, while groups like the Stones met social and
