Los Angeles Tech Writer

Long ago, when I was a teenager, my brother had this great pair of Sennheiser headphones. Lo these many years I've pined for my own pair, but never purchased any. There may be better brands, but something about the Sennheiser's clarity and crispness has always particularly appealed to my ear.

So as an early Valentine's Day gift, my daughter and I treated ourselves to new Sennheiser ear buds for our mp3 players. They arrived today, and I am happy to report the same quality of sound that I enjoyed all those years ago.

Anyway, I was test driving them with my mp3 player this afternoon, listening to my most favorite of favorite songs, one of which is a live version of The Rolling Stones' Angie, recorded in 1995 as part of their Stripped CD. You can have a listen below.

Now, when I first heard this version, it dawned on me that a long-held idea of mine about rock musicians of my era was wrong. Particularly with hard-livin' gents like The Stones, I always assumed that as they came to their present age range their talents would have faded, as we sometimes witness with epic crooners, whose septua- or octo- genarian voices just aren't the same as they were at thirty or forty years of age.

At the risk of being unkind, I daresay that some of these rockers' 60-something bodies have the equivalent of seventy or eighty years on them (and God bless 'em for it - I'm so glad they are still around). But to my ear, the guitars and the piano in this song are richer and more accomplished than when these lads were "fresh."

I found the same to be true when I attended a concert this last summer at the Santa Monica Pier featuring Peter and Gordon and Gerry and the Pacemakers. If you have no idea who these people are, that's okay.

Although now in their sixties, and dapper in their businessman suits (well, Peter Asher and Gordon Waller, at least), these men's voices have definitely matured but had not lost the spark and richness that made them my favorites back in the 1960's, when I would listen to AM radio stations KRLA and KHJ in Los Angeles, on my little box radio with the leather case, a single earplug in my ear, secreted under the covers when my parents thought I was fast asleep.

We are told that practice makes perfect, and this does make complete sense, but I also think that whatever magical force pervades artists does not diminish over time. I now wonder why I ever thought otherwise.

Love is love and not fade away.

From The Rolling Stones Stripped CD (November 1995).