PARIS AND SUNSHINE, BUT THE LIGHT DOESN’T PENETRATE very far into the informal, roomy bowels of the Hotel Warwick, an anonymous and very efficient modern hotel just off the Champs Élysées. The atmosphere is both warm and cool— which is a French specialty. Alan Edwards, the Rolling Stones’ press agent, spends much of his time in the elevator because Mick Jagger occupies a large suite at the very top and the people who want to see him accumulate at the bottom, waiting in the bar, eating endless bowls of tiny garlic biscuits and black olives and gherkins, drinking endless beers, and whiskeys and soda as the clock slides slowly round and the barmen replace each other.
As the elevator moves silently skyward, Jaggerward, the fundamental question that forms itself out of the clouds of anticipation is, what is it like being a has-been when you are more successful than ever?
What an old ham he is! “Mick is amazing with interviews,” the press agent coos. “He gives them what they want—a bit of sex for the Mirror, bit of intellect for the Sunday Times. . . .” On this occasion, finding himself with something of a maverick quantity, Jagger is going to play it safe, the old pals act, one and one half hours over drinks and fizzy water on the balcony among the debris of his recent breakfast. One is not complaining— the Sunday Times got fourteen minutes.
The first thing I say to him is, “Oh, you’ve got something on your front tooth!” thinking that perhaps he didn’t know. He gave me a fatigued sideways look and said, “That’s me diamond. . . .” Apparently it is world-famous, that stone in his tooth. It was the only jewelry he wore. He doesn’t need it; it is entirely overshadowed by his smile, which is quite dazzling when he remembers to switch it on.
This interview doesn’t fall into any of the predetermined grooves. It snakes about and hits a number of cul-de-sacs (if you listen hard, you’ll hear the noise it makes, like the discreet splat of a tomato in a padded cell). The questions often are deliberately abrupt and some of them Jagger seems not to have been asked before—and if there’s one thing that sleepy old iguana can’t stand, it’s being taken by surprise.
PLAYGIRL: Are you fed up with talking to the press?
JAGGER: I have to keep remembering which country I’m talking to, because you know you go to Japan, Spain, England, America, and they’re very different in what they want to know. The Germans like to talk politics. The Spanish just want to talk about football and when I told a Spanish bloke that I didn’t know how to play football, which is a lie, that really fucked his whole interview, poor guy. But I didn’t want to talk about football for half an hour—fucking hell! And the Americans very obviously want to know about the music. The English, well, they go round and round and round, and then it comes to sex, which is really all they want to talk about. But they go round in circles first because if they come straight out with it, you know, they think that I might . . . so I say let’s get on to sex and get the interview over with.
Alright, I’ve got a sex question. How did you discover the facts of life?
God! That’s a sudden question. Let me think. Yeah, I was told by friends, by the kids at school. Then I started masturbating and then I started fucking and then …!!!
What’s your earliest boyhood memory?
The sound of gunfire on Dartford Heath attacking the German invading planes.
Did you fight with your father when you were an adolescent?
Yeah. Well, he was bloody awful, he was so disciplinarian. He was a school teacher, still is. I mean, they’re not noted for their libertarianism. I wanted to be a musician—it was so obvious, you know—and he just didn’t want me to be. I have a very good relationship with my parents now.
When did your father come around?
When I started making a lot of money, dear. Typical. “Oh I see, I see, why didn’t you tell me you could make a lot of money?!”
Where’s home for you now? At least, where’s your base?
I don’t really have one. I mean, I have a couple. A flat in New York and a house in France, which I’ve bought but haven’t lived in yet because I’ve been working ever since I acquired it.
Do you still have a place in London?
Yeah, the place in Cheyne Walk. I rent it out though—it’s being done up at the moment.
Do you like the English countryside?
Yeah, it’s so beautiful.
But you sold your house in the English countryside.
Yeah, I sold that. It was too big, you know, that house at Newbury; it was silly. I bought my house in France with the proceeds.
A chateau on the Loire?
A small one, yeah. Small enough for me to look after.
Do you ever feel rootless?
No, not at all. A lot of people spend their time between two places. We record a lot in Paris—we recorded the last three albums here. I like Paris very much. I like to spend three months of the year in London, and then New York, and that’s it.
Will you ever go back to live in England?
Well, I might. I mean, Charlie and Bill both went back to live in England. The only thing is, you get rather spoiled. Like I don’t really like the weather there in the winter very much.
Which do you think is the most exciting city at the moment?
At the moment, New York. Cities go in cycles, ” you know what I mean? Like, Paris was once the gay center… Then suddenly London became the swinging town. When I first started living in and around New York, it was like the lowest. You could buy a mansion for, like, half a million dollars, but now, no way.
Can you go out in public there? John Lennon always said that he liked New York because people said hello and that was it.
I go out everywhere. I mean, there is no city that I get hassled in. I only get hassled on the road.
Where do you go when you’re in Paris?
There’re some really good nightclubs [I go to]. I mean, they are open until seven or seven thirty in the morning and when they close, another one opens. You can always go on. When we’re recording here, if we finish at five in the morning, I can go and eat and then I can go to a nightclub if I want. Also, there’re a lot of funny sex clubs in Paris, although I have never visited them, actually. I’m not prudish or anything but they tend to close up very quick—gangsterism and stuff.
London is not very rewarding from this point of view.
London used to be nice when the brothels were legal. But one of the things about London which is much nicer than New York is it’s much more pretty. When you walk through Chelsea or whatever, it’s nice you know, it’s pretty; whereas, walking through Greenwich Village! I don’t know London that well at the moment. I just spent a month in England, but I was living in the country and only went to London twice.
Do you drive?
Yes.
What sort of car do you have?
Lots of ’em! Loads of cars. I never sell ’em, that’s the trouble with me. I’m so sentimental.
Do you have a favorite?
My favorite is my old Ferrari, my old ’72 Ferrari. A good old banger. I bought it in the first petrol squeeze in 1975 when all the toffs [upper-class gents] couldn’t afford the petrol. I like my old Bentley too. But they’re all on blocks in London. I never drive ’em.
Apart from the music lot, what kind of people do you gravitate toward?
I get on with writers, you know, and film people. I have some friends that are just . . . unemployed, some of them are, but I don’t only have friends in show business.
One gets the impression that you like the obvious people, like Andy Warhol.
Yeah, Andy’s a friend of mine.
You must find yourself just moving in a huge aquarium of celebrities.
No, not really, no. I keep very much to myself when we’re not touring. I don’t go out to nightclubs and discos and things, really. Unless it’s to pick up girls! But I love to go and see bands. If there’s a band on, I go out.
Do you try to forget about Mick Jagger, the big star?
Yeah. Really, I think I would go off the deep end otherwise. Which is one reason for not touring too often. Bands that tour all the time just—
Do you take drugs like in the old days?
I think that’s faded. Yeah, nobody seems very much interested anymore.
So, what sort of diet do you have? Are you fond of health foods?
No! I hale health foods. I eat like crazy, but I don’t eat junk food. I don’t like junk food; if I did, I’d eat it probably.
But you’re light—what weight are you?
Nine stone eight [134 pounds]. And I really eat. I get this advice mostly from footballers and athletes: If you’re doing a lot of physical stuff, you should eat a lot of carbohydrates, and that will give you more energy. You should eat a lot of pasta. So, three hours before I go on, I eat a huge plate of pasta, you know, and that gives me all the carbohydrates I need.
What are the dangers of success?
Getting big-headed. Overdoing it. Overloading your body with everything. Thinking you’re better than other people when you know you’re not.
Who is the most charismatic person you’ve ever met?
Mmm . . . this is a hard one. It might seem like I’m name dropping. I don’t know. See, politicians are the ones who usually impress people a lot, you know. Mmm. I can’t pin that one down. There’s no one who stands out.
Who are the nastiest people you’ve ever met?
Journalists!
Oh! . . . But haven’t you ever read anything about yourself that you thought hit the spot?
Oh yeah, of course. Most of the things that I like that are written about me are funny. Sometimes they can be cruel and hit the spot as well…
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