In Another Land

The Rolling Stones are today, after being in business for fifty years, basically their own corporation. You could say they’ve sold out, if that was still a valid idea, which it is not. You can praise them for their endless longevity or blame them for turning into a greedy, for-profit business outfit more than a real musical group. Either way, they’re here to stay, until every last one of them drops dead. With them being how they are, and us being used to them being that way, it’s easy to forget how much they shattered convention and changed society itself in just a few short years of being a thing. They pretty much germinated and perfected our collective image of what it means to be a rock’n'roll band. The looks, the attitude, the lifestyle, the licks, the drugs, the jets, the beautiful women, the bizarre deaths – every single band that has ever adopted any of those things took it from the Rolling Stones. From his hair to the tips of his boots, every guitarist wants to be Keith, and every frontman copies Mick from his eyeliner to his bulging pants. Yes, the Stones came to define many things in their time, and in 1967, with Their Satanic Majesties Request, they defined what it meant to fill an album with pure filler. At that time, with the three principles being very busy flouncing in and out of glamorous jails and courtrooms, The Stones had so little material prepared that they literally resorted to inserting found noises, such as prolonged snoring, in between tracks. Which was quite avant-garde of them, and would deserve praise if it hadn’t been so annoying. What could potentially have been a magnificent answer to Sgt Pepper sank under the weight of indifference. If every song had been a She’s A Rainbow or 200 Light Years, they would have shone those uppity Beatles what was what. As it were, those two songs were brilliant, a few others weirdly intersting, some where novelties, and one was written and performed by Bill Wyman. I happen to own a Bill Wyman solo album, which I have never listened to, purely for the collector’s satisfaction of it. I don’t know if aynone else who owns a Bill Wyman solo album has ever listened to it either. Wyman is, in his unassuming way, a quite weird and slightly creepy character, a compulsive womanizer who keeps files on his thousands of conquests and filled his autobiography with detailed accounts of the contents of his bank account. It’s a sign of the shambolic state of the Rolling Stones that the Glimmer Twins allowed him three minutes at the microphone. Which is not to bash Bill Wyman unduly; he still sends Christmas cards to all his old girlfriends. And his song isn’t bad either. It’s surreal and atmospheric, and fits entirely well into the mixed-up, tripped-out postcard from the dark side that is Satanic Majesties.

I’m Free

I never get tired of giving you obscure Rolling Stones album tracks. You can’t go wrong, especially with the early stuff. In 1965, The Rolling Stones were on a roll. Everybody was on a roll that year, actually. The whole world was on a roll, at least where rock music was concerned. It’s pretty amazing to imagine how much the world changed in just a few years, in so many ways. Maybe music wasn’t literally the epicenter of social change in the sixties, but it was damn close. What groups like the Stones (and especially the Stones in my opinion) offered was a whole new way of being. A new identity for a new generation. Small wonder anyone who was there or even alive at the time still can’t shut up about it. Nor do we younger people ever get tired of hearing about it, at least not me.

I Got the Blues

One from deep in the archive. This one got overshadowed by the overload of other brilliant things on Sticky Fingers, but I’ve always thought it was one of the Stones’ best love songs. It’s all about having the blues, you see. Mick Jagger sings it like his heart is bleeding. I believe that this is another song that sprang from the muse Marianne Faithfull. There isn’t any proof of that, but given that it’s on the same album as Wild Horses and Sister Morphine, I think it’s a reasonable assumption. It’s always a bit of a stretch putting thoughts in the famously enigmatic Jagger’s head, but some things are well known and I dare to extrapolate. We know that Jagger was well torn up when Faithfull walked out on him to spend more time with heroin. Both Wild Horses and Sister Morphine grew out of the tattered end of their relationship. I think it’s safe enough to add I Got the Blues to that roster. When Jagger sings about praying for her safety and peace of mind, you can’t help but feel his heartbreak. It’s one of his most emotionally naked performances, even if perhaps he would deny the subject. It’s touching to hear someone so notoriously cocksure sounding so vulnerable. It’s one of those moments where you really have to stop and just be astounded by The Rolling Stones as a band and Mick Jagger as a singer.

I Go Wild

Who says nothing classic came out of the 90s? Oh, yeah, I say that all the time. But, you know, there are exceptions. Like, for instance, my favorite Rolling Stones album. Voodoo Lounge has to rule as my favorite Stones album because it’s the first Stones album to come out within my lifetime that I was old enough to get excited about. It’s one of my earliest memories of getting excited about a new record, so there’s a powerful nostalgic attachment to that, but even without that aspect I think it’s a great album. Criminally underrated, as the professional critics like to say. So many songs that, to me, are classic and would be considered so coming from any other band. I hold this one up with all their best. Maybe it’s just my personal attachment, but isn’t it just pure primo Stones’ style rock and roll? It’s got the riff. It’s got the attitude. It’s sexy and dirty and doesn’t make any sense. Perfect. I love it!

(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction

No introduction needed. You know the legends. (Refer to Keith Richards’ Life for the definitive telling if you don’t.) You know the riff (Keef wrote that in his sleep!), you know the words (they’re not entirely about sex!), this is the song that taught a generation the meaning of being young, sexy and free. And still does. I’m not the only one who’s built their entire life’s philosophy based on The Rolling Stones, am I? I think the world would be a more satisfactory place if more little girls had Mick Jagger as their role model. Or Keef. They represent the epitome of being cool, being sexy, being creative and not giving a fuck. Living life, as Jagger puts it, “Financially dissatisfied, sexually satisfied, philosophically trying.” Anyway, I’m not the one to tabulate the full impact. I’m just here to say that you can’t ever hear it often enough, and a truer yelp of angst and irritation was never written.

 

 

 

I Am Waiting

Very underrated album track here. Aftermath was the first really great Rolling Stones album. Not coincidentally, it was also the first one to be entirely original material. The Stones did great covering other people’s work, but it wasn’t until Aftermath that their artistic vision truly coalesced. We all remember the hits like Mother’s Little Helper and Paint It Black. The real pleasure of a good album, however, is in the eccentricity of the less known songs.

Honky Tonk Women

“She blew my nose and then she blew my mind”

Better lines were never written. I assume ‘she blew my nose’ is a cocaine reference, but it does call to mind all sorts of phlegmy perversions. We’ve all heard what those Rolling Stones got up to in their sordid Edith Grove days.  They just oozed sex and derangement. Kind of still do, if you dig decrepitude. There’s nothing sexier than that thumping rhythm, like blood pumping. Why else do we still call them The Greatest Rock’n'Roll Band? Because there’s been lots of great bands with many different styles, but not one has ever approached The Rolling Stones for sheer visceral power. No one else plays music that feels so physical. You can read what Keef has to say about the technicalities, explaining exactly how and why they found that sweet spot of sound for just a few years. But it’s more that the detail of the equipment. Maybe it was the devil, like some say, who allowed the band to function as a single throbbing organ. Maybe it was the drugs. Or the times. A blessing. A curse. A stroke of luck. Something. We don’t know. Keith doesn’t know. Just take some drugs and enjoy it.

Hold on to Your Hat

I’d call this a C-list Rolling Stones song. Not a famous classic hit, or a dearly beloved album track. Just a prime example of balls-out rockers The Stones churn out a few of on every album. They’ve had this habit since the late seventies. It’s not a bad formula they’ve figured out – a few ballads, a few typical rockers, a few bouts of weirdness in between. And I still enjoy most of it even when it’s not the greatest. Because in fifty years it’s impossible to always be at the height of your greatness. Remember, too, not-great Rolling Stones is still greater than most mere mortals.

Hitchhike

You can decide for yourself if you prefer Marvin Gaye’s Hitchhike or if The Rolling Stones did it better. Gaye is funky but too smooth, in my opinion. The Stones played it so much more energy. Like they had something to prove, which I suppose they did. Gaye was one of their heroes and they felt they had to live up to him. Obviously, being a bunch of pasty white kids from England, they felt they lacked the authenticity of the black artists they admired, so they worked twice as hard to compensate. Meanwhile, Gaye was an established professional with the entire Motown music industry behind him. He had songs from top writers, worked with top producers, he had the respect of the industry. He probably didn’t sweat it too hard. The Stones were just upstarts with a bad reputation and a chip on their shoulder. They sweated damn hard to keep up and prove themselves, to earn the respect of those they looked up to. That makes their efforts more authentic, to me, than Gaye’s. They had a need to be heard, and played with an urgency that Gaye’s version lacks. But I may just be biased towards the Rolling Stones and I’m not a huge fan of Motown music. Like I said, decide for yourself or just take both versions as equally good.

 

 

High and Dry

I love this song because it sounds very unsophisticated. It sounds raw and kind of unprofessional. If I’m ever asked what my favorite drum part in a song is, I would pick this one. I don’t think it’s exactly Charlie’s finest hour, but there’s something about the insistence of the banging. It’s all repetitive drums and raw harmonica. Which may be a deliberate effect or the result of sloppy production. But it’s definitely one of the Stones’ most garage/grunge/pre-punk moments. The Rolling Stones sound like a bunch of amateurs banging out in their garage. Yet pay closer attention and you’ll see it’s actually a very sophisticated song. In high contrast to the bare bones music, the lyrics are witty and satirical. When most bands still didn’t have many ideas besides silly love songs, the Rolling Stones were busy making mean fun of all the crazy, hip and groovy types they were crossing paths with. In this case, Mick plays a failed gold digger whose girl finds out it’s only her money that he’s after. “Next time I’ll make sure that the girl will be much poorer” he laments. I’ve said this a million times before; The Rolling Stones don’t get enough credit for their lyrics. Not that their reputation as a heart pounding riff unit is unjustified, but there’s also more to be found beneath the strut and the riff. They documented the sixties social scene better than anyone. They knew the cool people were mostly full of crap, and they weren’t shy about calling them out on it.