published in 1961, was John Steinbeck’s final novel.
Steinbeck, like all great authors, borrowed and
repurposed lines that struck him elegant;
“Now is the winter of our discontent…”
is the opening line of Shakespeare’s
Richard III.
Mick has been discontent since 1965…
“The last time the Stones were out on the road, between 2005 and 2007, they took in more than half a billion dollars – the highest-grossing tour of all time. On Copacabana Beach, in Rio de Janeiro, they played to more than a million people. Few spectacles in modern life are more sublimely ridiculous than the geriatric members of the Stones playing the opening strains of ‘Street Fighting Man.'”
“But, beyond the spectacle, we come to admire the unlikely persistence of the Stones, an entity nearly half a century old, chugging comically, determinedly on. The lads are approaching seventy. Pruney, dyed, and boney, they storm through a set list that is by now as venerable and unchanging as the Diabelli Variations. ‘You do, occasionally, just look at your feet and think, This is the same old shit every night,’ Richards has said, and yet he goes on playing and the crowds go on paying, reluctant to give it up, the last link to glory days.”
– David Remnick, The New Yorker, Nov. 1, 2010
What the hell is Wizzo
talking about? Do I
look discontent?
– Keith Richards