Superbowl XL: Halftime
by Nicholas Coleman

The Rolling Stones are old. How old are they? Apparently too old to watch their own show. One might suspect that between Paul McCartney's show last year and the Stones this year, the haltime show organizers were doing their best to ensure that if any flesh was bared by the performers it would be pale, withered, and entirely non-sexually stimulating.

This is a very odd position for the Super Bowl halftime show to be in. Before Nipplegate, nobody watched the halftime show. The likes of N'Sync and Shania Twain were booked to attract teenage girls and... umm... who listens to Shania Twain again? You have to feel for the folks who had to put together the shows this year and last year. All of the sudden people were finally paying attention to the show, but for the entirely wrong reasons. So when Paul McCartney put on a pretty good show last year, everyone (except me, apparently) thought it was a snooze fest. It probably didn't help that he was about a year away from not being able to honestly sing "When I'm 64" again.

So here we go. First we're treated to a montage of the Rolling Stones and the NFL from the '60s to the present. Interesting that they can still get a band that's older than the Super Bowl itself for the halftime show. After the montage we see an aerial shot of the stage, which is a huge pair of lips with a tongue hanging out. The sound is a little too low - that's not a good start. Their first song is "Start Me Up" — a most predictable beginning to the show. The tongue is apparently a big tongue-shaped sheet covering something. What's under the tongue? A pool? Maybe Brian Jones made it to the show after all? Nope, it's just more of the under-40 fans on the field.

The crowd in the stands looks a bit perplexed. Mick asks how everyone is doing, but I'd be more concerned about how Charlie Watts is doing behind that drumset. He looked like a wraith ten years ago, let alone now.

Then they play a new song, "Rough Justice", which starts out:

One time you were my baby chicken/ Now you've grown into a fox And once upon a time I was your little rooster/ Am I just one of your cocks?

No, Mick didn't actually say cocks. Either that or they edited it out — we do have a five second delay this year. But it got a little exciting for a second there. Cocks!

Then Mick made a joke: "We could have played this one at Super Bowl I, but good things come to he who waits." "(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction" follows. Apparently Mick still can't get no girl reaction. He must be a very lonely man. On the upside, he can still dance like a white James Brown. Perhaps that's the geezer they should have booked.

And that's the show, just three songs. No "Sympathy for the Devil", no "Gimme Shelter", no "Sweet Neo Con." Perhaps now, after watching two years of baby boomer icons try to rock out, people will finally stop watching the halftime show again. Outkast to play. Or Gwar.

But they'll probably get Pete Townshend.

— Nicholas Coleman (ncoleman@wesleyan.edu)

— graphic by D.P. Barsam (barsam@hotpop.com)