Stones still rolling half a century later
There were no bands, no venues and no regular rock gigs. They played in cinemas in Cork and Dublin, on makeshift stages stacked with tinny amplifiers and speakers. There was barely a name for what they were. The categorisation of popular music into genres like heavy metal and blues-rock was still far in the future. But they were something new, radiating sexual charisma and exoticism to their young audiences. They were a sign, a token in a burgeoning culture clash between a conservative older generation and a young one just beginning to find its voice. They were a phenomenon. And they were huge.
The band — or the group, as they were known then — were just three years old, having formed among friends in London in 1962, but they already had a string of hit singles and legions of dedicated fans. The rivalry with their Liverpudlian counterparts, The Beatles, was already sharp and clear enough to define two very different brands of cool.
