For a journalist who grew up as a Stones fan, Mick Jagger was the Everest of interview subjects. By the time I met him, the idolatry phase was long gone. We sat in an empty classroom of a Toronto school where the band was rehearsing its 'Voodoo Lounge' tour in the gym. He seemed strangely diminished in the flesh. Pale, impossibly slight, a concave chest peeking through an untucked pink shirt, an indolent youth in old skin.
