Stoning the Stones

Music is very important to me. By very important, I mean ahead of other needless things like food and water. But not as high as a good nap on Sunday afternoons.

I came of age--musically--in the late 60s. The groups I grew up with then were the "second half" Beatles (everything from Revolver to Let It Be), Crosby Stills Nash and Young, and Jimi. In the 70s I added the solo Beatles (George's All Things Must Pass is the best solo Beatle album by far, and Paul's Wing's Wildlife absolutely horrible--but I owned them both), Grand Funk, Chicago and my all time favorite group, Loggins and Messina. (Not their chart stuff--that was only fair. Their long jam songs were and are the perfect music.)

The 80s were the lost decade music-wise. You have Genesis and you have U2. One song by Level 42. Maybe one from Huey Lewis. Oh, I guess some ZZ Top. But after that? Waste of time.

The 90s made me turn to talk radio, only to run into Rush. So I learned to love classical music.

It wasn't until this new century that I returned to my rock roots, only to discover the best bands were the old bands. And the best of the old (and oldest of the best) were ... the Rolling Stones.

Now, I never was much of a fan of the Stones. I like Brown Sugar, but Angie bored me. Start Me Up got old hearing it at every sporting event when they introduce the players. And I didn't get their satire on songs like Symphony For The Devil. I started to change my opinion of Mick and Keef when, in 1995, two of my students at Centerville High School approached me.

"Mr. Dunn," they said (not in unison, but you get the idea), "we want to go see the Stones in St. Louis, but our parents won't let us go unless an adult goes with us. Since you are the closest thing to an adult we know, we are wondering if you would go. We'll buy your ticket, we'll pay the gas. All you have to do is ride with us."

I thought about it for, oh, a second--maybe--before saying Yes. What a concert. The whole time I was thinking, "We in the Christian world are wasting our time trying to out-entertain the non-Christian world." I mean, from the opening power chord of Satisfaction to the last drumbeat of It's Only Rock and Roll I was treated to a non-stop rock and roll circus. Mick jogs five to seven miles PER CONCERT. He is more active on stage than a kid with ADD and an endless supply of Snickers. I began to change my mind about the boys from London.

I went back and listened again to what is considered their great trilogy: Let It Bleed, Sticky Fingers and Exile On Main Street. Amazing stuff these boys cranked out. Their albums following these three were hit-and-miss, mostly miss, but even when missing they were better than 90% of the rest of the stuff being hawked in record stores. I wondered why I had never really given them a chance before. And I think I know. It was their "bad boy" image.

Of course I should be one of the first to know that image is often just that--a made-up persona. But there we had Mick with his tongue hanging out, and Keef with a needle in his arm and a spoon up his nose. Brian Jones dead from drugs. Ronnie Woods in rehab. Only Charlie seemed somewhat normal--but only as normal as drummer can be. And in the 70s, 80s and 90s, one could not call oneself a Christian and accept people like this. (We had yet to learn about grace and mercy, you see.)

Well, now it seems that Keef--who could be legally declared dead from all the drugs he has pumped into his body--is reading his Bible. Says parts of it are boring, but the only crime there is saying outloud what many of us think to ourselves. And Mick, on his mostly-forgettable solo album The Goddess In The Doorway, includes lyrics that could be sung in most evangelical churches today. Could it be the boys are searching? Could it be that they have now realized that even with the millions of dollars they have made, the endless pleasures they have consumed, the knighthood (for Sir Mick), the wives and lovers they have gone through, they just can't get no satisfaction? And would it be such a bad thing if they feel empty in their souls and start seeking for what can truly satisfy? Can God forgive their past? Is Jesus' blood sufficient even for Mick and Keef?

I'm thinking it is. More than enough. So let's not get too worked up next time we see the boys (who are now closer to 70 than 60) on TV or the magazine rack. Instead, pray for them. Remember, it's only rock and roll.