New Rolling Stone Issue

The new Rolling Stone issue, released yesterday, features Mr. Jack White gracing the cover, but he's not alone, in fact he is draped by the presence of two legends of rock'n'roll: Mr. Keith Richards and Mr. Mick Jagger of The Rolling Stones. Inside they are all interviewed together, talking about many things such as getting off on stage, getting old, and passing the torch. Here is a short excerpt of the conversation between Jack and Keith and Rolling Stone:

Keith, what do you think of "Shine a Light"?
Richards: I'm just seeing what Marty Scorsese sees in the Stones. I was never aware of the cameras. I knew they were there. But once you go to work, your job is to give the audience what they want and, at the same time, get yourself off. I've no doubt that Mick was far more aware that he was making a movie. But once I get going, I just look at Charlie.
I've always been amazed by how much fuss goes on around us — the big screens, the technology. And it has to be coordinated. Mick loves to coordinate. But I'm selfish. I gotta feel good. I can't go up there worrying about things. I go onstage to get some fucking peace and quiet.

Jack, what did you learn about the Stones when you opened for them?
White: How good they were. You could see the comfort level between them, in Keith's guitar playing and Ron's slide playing. It's impressive, man, when that confidence is exuded. Someone once told me when I first started playing — you get a lot more respect if you act like you own the joint. If you fumble around, you don't gain respect.
Richards: You could have asked me that question back when we went from clubs to opening for Bo Diddley, Little Richard and the Everly Brothers on one tour [in 1963]. I learned more in those six weeks than I would have learned from listening to a million records.

What was the primary lesson?
Richards: Stagecraft — what works and how to feel comfortable onstage. The Everly Brothers were superb every night — those beautiful harmonies. We'd open, then climb the rafters and hang there, watching them. Watching Bo Diddley was university for me. Every set was twenty minutes long in those days. When he came off, if he had two strings left on the guitar, it was a fucking miracle. The Duchess was there [on guitar], and Jerome Green, with the maracas in each hand. It was my job to be Jerome's minder. I used to fetch him from the pub — "You're on, mate."