I had once written that the Stones were a wonderful rock & roll band, the very best in creation. But I also wrote that aging did not suit them. Their greatest gift had always been for outrage, and outrage needs youth. Therefore, I suggested that if they had any sense of completeness they should blow themselves sky-high three days before their thirtieth birthdays.

In its context, it was meant as friendly advice, a gift from an admirer, but clearly it misfired. Thirty has come and gone—Bill Wyman must be close to 40—and still they persist….

Once, the Stones were a genuine explosion. They had urgency and rage, real passion, and though they always loved to play games, there used to be a sense that, underneath, they meant business. (p. 72)

With the Stones, however, the shenanigans were inherent and inescapable. The week that "Satisfaction" topped the hit parade, I...