Live: David Johansen, Marianne Faithfull, And An All-Star Cast Pay Tribute To The Rolling Stones At Carnegie Hall

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Bobby Bank/WireImage
David Johansen.
The Music of the Rolling Stones: Hot Rocks 1964-1971
Carnegie Hall
Tuesday, March 13

Better than: Paying $300 to see The Stones.

Okay, so maybe most of the audience was old enough to remember the first time they saw Mick Jagger shake his hips and lips on The Ed Sullivan Show. And a sea of salt-and-pepper hair, thick eyeglasses and bellies betraying too many Big Slam Breakfasts at Denny's was spread among the seats. But last night at Carnegie Hall, the years melted away as a slew of artists paid tribute to the Rolling Stones. Gone, briefly, were the horrors of adulthood (like the couple who told me, with a shudder, about taking their daughter to see Miley Cyrus). Instead, the mostly middle-aged crowd was able to relive the naughty kicks of "Let's Spend The Night Together" and "Honky Tonk Woman" for nearly two hours. They got to shout, "Yeah, yeah, yeah, Woo!" without their kids running from the room. And, finally, to really dig a wide array of Jagger and Richards's most brilliant songs.

And no, Justin Bieber did not come out and sing "Satisfaction."

It became apparent that the show would be great when Ronnie Spector slayed "Time Is On My Side." Backed by a sympathetic house band, the badass chick rediscovered her lost sense of pitch, belting out the R&B classic. Maybe her exultation was a result of knowing her psycho ex-husband was safely tucked away in prison. But when Spector gleefully gave up a trademark "Whoa hoa," the crow went absolutely batshit.

Peaches, wearing some sort of spangled naugahyde jumpsuit, was next, and she wiped the floor with a version of "Heart of Stone" that remained true to the Stones' rebellious spirit. She screamed about all the "girls I've known" who've tried in vain to break her, and the audience members, most of whom probably haven't bought a new record since Goat's Head Soup, grudgingly gave it up for this sizzling siren.

There were a few UFO—sighting moments, ones that would never be seen again. The forever fabulous David Johansen, once thought of as Mick Jagger's déclassé cousin from Staten Island, tmade mincemeat out of 1965's "Get Off Of My Cloud." He smiled his Dead End Kids grin, shook his tight, white-jeaned ass and made the song his own. When David Jo boomed, "I decided to take a drive downtown," the song's locale shifted—permanently—from London to New Yawk.

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