Throwing Stones

The Rolling Stones have been around for so long now that I’ve begun to wonder if the Old Testament passage that mentions “a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together” is actually a reference to the band. It does, after all, perfectly describe Messrs. Jagger & Richards’ pattern of periodically setting aside their personal differences to cash in yet another stadium-filled swing through the land of merch and money.

They’re at it again this year, in celebration of the group’s historic 50^th anniversary. Whatever.

Before you accuse me of being jaded, get a gander at the May 23^rd issue of Rolling Stone magazine, which, to absolutely no one’s surprise, features the band on the cover. Again. Meanwhile, the article inside sheepishly reports that a ticket for the gang’s latest go ’round starts, that’s right, starts, at $150 and spirals upward to somewhere north of $2000. With prices like these, who needs scalpers?

A quick trip to the Ticketmaster website tells us that, to absolutely no one’s surprise, the usual fees are tacked on to all tickets in the $150 to $600 range. But as soon as you’ve leapt to the coveted $750 level, the Stones throw caution to the wind and generously waive those pesky extra charges. This is what passes for customer appreciation at the top of the rock food chain.

But wait, there’s more! Each $750 and up boomer-budget-buster also includes a laminated tour badge that gives you exclusive access to, umm, your seat! Plus a souvenir program! And an unspecified merchandise item! Now how much would you pay?

I’m guessing the mystery merch item is an adorable tank top that says, “Grandma Spent Two Grand To See The Stones And All I Got Was This Lousy T-Shirt,” but have been unable to confirm this with the band’s management.

Perhaps I am being a little jaded. Okay, more than a little jaded. But being jaded about the Rolling Stones is like being wry about Randy Newman, juvenile about Justin Bieber, nostalgic about Sha Na Na or cynical about Milli Vanilli. It comes with the territory. So let’s all make like Keith Richards and come clean. Or at least pretend to.

Like it or not, we live in an era in which the terms “band” and “brand” have become interchangeable. An era in which the Rolling Stones will continue to be awarded iconic status. Ironic might be more suitable. Because, contrary to the fundamental tenants of marketing, the longer the Stones continue as a band, the more they damage their brand.

Let me make it clear that I have no hippie-dippy illusions about the music business. Being a musician is a profession. Musicians give performances and create intellectual property, both of which have value. Whether you’re a singer-songwriter at the local coffeehouse or a Rolling Stone at the 02 Arena, you deserve to be paid. The last free concert the Stones gave in the U.S. was Altamont, and nobody wants to see that again, especially Mick Jagger. Incredibly, that concert was staged as a response to fan and rock press outrage over ticket prices for the band’s 1969 American tour. I suppose we’ll all get another chance to see the Stones at next summer’s “45 Years of Price Gouging” jubilee jaunt.

“But, Bill, if being a musician is a job, doesn’t that also mean that musicians get to charge as much as they want for a ticket?” you ask.

Yes, my still-wearing-tie-dye-yet-surprisingly-capitalistic friend, it does.

“So why you gotta’ be so down on the Stones, man?”

Because I’m talking about the big enchilada–the overall brand–as well as ticket prices and their impact on that brand.

“That’s where you’ve got it all wrong, you sellout advertising hack. The Stones aren’t a freakin’ brand. They’re rock ’n’ roll outlaws!”

Actually, “rock ’n’ roll outlaws” is the Rolling Stones’ brand, and has been since shortly after their canny first manager, Andrew Loog Oldham, caught them at a London club in 1963. Oldham had done publicity work for the Beatles, and saw the Stones on the Liverpool lads’ recommendation. Having fallen out of favor with Beatles’ manager Brian Epstein, Oldham needed work. So he talked the Stones into ditching their sort-of-manager and going with his new, and in reality, non-existent, management firm. Incredibly, it turned out to be a smart move for all concerned. Well, except for the old sort-of-manager, anyway.

Still shy of his twentieth birthday, Oldham was a teenager himself. But he made one of the most brilliant branding and positioning decisions in the history of popular music and modern marketing.

The Beatles were spearheading a British pop revolution that would go global in a heartbeat. Oldham instinctively knew that trying to create “the next Beatles” was a dead-end strategy. The fab four had the lovable mop-top angle locked up tighter than a BBC playlist. Oldham’s eureka moment arrived when he saw the previously unrecognized flipside of the new pop marketplace. And it was wide open.

The world needed a bad-boy band. A band that adolescent girls would love. A band that parents, politicians and the press would love to hate. A band that Andrew Loog Oldham could turn into a global brand.

By positioning the Rolling Stones as the anti-Beatles and relentlessly flogging their rebellious image, Oldham defined the Stone’s public perception for decades. The Stones, for their part, were more than happy to play along. They fancied themselves an authentic Chicago blues band—the kind of willful denial of reality that only teenagers in their first rock group or someone with a serious head injury can muster—and dreaded being sold as suit-wearing sunshine boys. Besides, just as being sly, witty and charming came naturally to the Beatles, being snotty, scrappy and scruffy came naturally to the Rolling Stones. Going with Oldham’s flow was an assignment they could handle.

The Rolling Stones were about to learn that, if you try sometimes, you get what you need.

(This concludes Part I of Throwing Stones. Click now to read Throwing Stones II: If You Sign Me Up.)

(B/W Photo: Wiki Commons/Brisbane City Council/Retouching by Miss Sophie)