The rock 'n' roll myth. The celebrity and the excess. The super models and the cocaine benders.
And, of course, all the old-fogey jokes.
At 50, the Rolling Stones are larger than life or death -- still kicking, long after so many bands have cashed it in.
Beatles vs. the Stones? It's hard to fathom that such a divide once existed, especially when you consider that the Beatles dissolved in 1970.
Stones vs. punk?
Bands like the Sex Pistols and the Clash mocked the Stones for being old way back when. But do the math: Johnny Lydon is 57 to Mick Jagger's 69; at this point you'd be hard-pressed to see much of a difference in those 12 years.
The Stones' survival isn't just remarkable because of their ages. Rock 'n' roll bands aren't supposed to last this long.
The Beatles didn't. Neither did the Ramones. Neither did the White Stripes.
Even bands that make a lot of money end up cashing in their chips. So what is so different about the Stones?
It's only the rock 'n' roll -- and 'only' because all too often the rock 'n' roll of the Rolling Stones has been overshadowed by the circus.
The jagged riffs. The howling vocals. The driving bass lines. And the backbeat of a jazz drummer who ended up in a rock 'n' roll band.
"People see them as being rich and famous and, yeah, they do have great lives," says Cleveland punk legend Cheetah Chrome. "But at heart, they're musicians. This is just what they do and that's why they're still doing it."
Chrome met Mick Jagger and Keith Richards, while the Stones were recording their 1980 album "Emotional Rescue." The Dead Boys guitarist was also recording at Electric Lady, the famed studio in Manhattan.
"I was friends with Keith's girlfriend, Anita Pallenberg," says Chrome. "So one day she invited me into the studio where the Stones were recording."
Richards was hard working and very focused, contrary to his image as an incoherent mess.
"I don't think there was a musician that's worked harder than Keith," says Chrome, via phone from his home in Nashville, Tenn.
Richards was said to be up for days on end during the recording of the Stones' 1972 masterpiece, "Exile on Main Street." He always stayed the longest, working on mixes and arrangements and even adding bass parts to songs.
Only the most dedicated of fans know that the stellar bass part on "Sympathy for the Devil" was played by Richards. The band spent five days on the song, starting with something very different and working on it until they came up with the finished work, as documented by French filmmaker Jean-Luc Godard.
"When I first got into the Stones, I thought it was cool that Keith always had a guitar in his hand," says Chrome. "Well, that's really him -- he's always playing, even when he's just sitting on the couch."
Chrome saw it first-hand while hanging out with the Stones in the studio, and when he'd visit Pallenberg's Long Island home in early-'80s and Richards would be there.
"Keith always had two guitars there so we could jam," says Chrome. "It was his way of making you feel comfortable."
"Mick and Keith might not have been that way with fans," he adds. "But they could easily relate to people who knew music."
The Stones are regarded as the ultimate touring band -- they did hundreds of shows, from 1963 to '66, before they were making any money. They were also the first band to be in control of the studio.
"The Beatles recorded in the established record label studios, with George Martin," says Chrome, referring to the famed produced credited with honing the Fab Four's arrangements and sound. "The Stones did with Andrew Loog Oldham, who had never produced an album with anyone. So they had to learn themselves."
For "Jumpin' Jack Flash," Richards came up with, perhaps, the first low-fi studio trick. He recorded acoustic guitars -- each of which used a different tuning -- through a cassette player. The result was a raw quality.
Even when the band sounds murky and muddy, it was with artistic intent, says J Mascis, of Dinosaur Jr.
"I was 13 when I heard 'Exile on Main Street' and I was struck by the production," says the indie-rock guitar hero, from his home in Amherst, Mass. "You always had to listen again and again because each listen revealed something new."
He contrasts that with Led Zeppelin, which was more considered a "musician" band than the Stones.
"You hear 'Houses of the Holy' once and you've heard it all," he said referring to the 1973 Zeppelin disc. "With the Stones, there's something genius about not having to listen to a record over and over again and you still don't hear it all."
Mascis listened to the band almost exclusively for a year -- for the parts, but also Richards' guitar tunings and Charlie Watts' drum parts.
"Charlie never really does that much, but he does just enough like when you hear him fumbling his way through a few rolls on a song like, 'Sway,'" says Mascis, referring to a track off "Sticky Fingers."
The song is notable because its stellar rhythm guitar is played by Jagger, not Richards. It's also a microcosm of the Stones' sensibility -- a rag-tag but driving, bluesy ode to survival as those around perish.
It also features an intense lead by Mick Taylor -- one best leads in the Stones' catalog, says Mascis.
"There's that one and Keith's guitar on 'Monkey Man,' are both really driving," says Mascis, referring to a track off 'Let it Bleed.' "But there are so many other ones, so many parts, so many things that make the Stones so great."
"World's Greatest Rock 'n' Roll Band" is a title that has been tossed around for decades.
I once interviewed Patti Smith, who recalled seeing the Stones on the "Ed Sullivan Show" in 1964. Smith, now 66, was 17 at the time.
She called it an "orgasmic experience," one that inspired her to play music. She wanted to be like Mick Jagger -- namely, to exude the same physicality and sexuality as the singer.
"I actually thought that rock 'n' roll was a man's job," Smith said. "But I took that to create from a non-gender perspective, less about being a women per se and being a singer in a band and taking a stand."
There is no other band that could come off so strong and yet sound like it was falling apart under the surface -- the glorious mess consisting of a riff, a beat, a lead and a melody.
