BLACK-AND BLUE JAMES BOOHER

Rip It Up, Issue 213, 1 May 1995, Page 27

BLACK-AND BLUE

JAMES BOOHER

It was on the second night, when I could see the yellows of their eyes, that I felt I'd really experienced the Rolling Stones as a band rather than a phenomenon. At the lip of the stage, their playing eclipsed the spectacular theatrics. You could feel the way the internal dynamics shaped their sound: Keith running his show with relaxed arrogance, Mick running his with manic perfectionism. Ronnie goofing off like something out of English music hall; Charlie of the reliable backbeat, never flashy and pathologically shy. It really hit home what true originals and eccentrics they are - and how much still remains from their black influences. At the daftest moments I’d hear some other pilfered source, not just Chuck Berry but a jukebox of styles: Duke Ellington’s band! (old friends playing loose, with clockwork precision); Little Richard! (entertainment rules: camp it to the max and keep upping the outrage factor); Labelle! (glitter gospel); even Muddy Waters-goes-Philly! (‘Miss You' - Chicago blues meets

disco). From these old men who turned rock ’n’roil into a billion dollar industry, you could still feel the excitement of the day Brian Jones walked into their squalid flat with a Chess record under his arm.

On the first album, they kick-started their way into rock ’n’ roll history with the opening moment of ‘Route 66’ - a king-hit of a riff that reeked attitude. But in the early years, the Stones were best at singles (and playing live) rather than albums. Without the songwriting skills of Lennon and McCartney, the early albums now seem padded out by tentative originals and limp R&B covers. Only 12 x 5, lovingly recorded in the Chess Studios in Chicago (Muddy Waters helped carry in their guitars) has any consistency. It was not till 1968, when Jimmy Miller took over the production duties from the band’s original manager, dandy PR king Andrew Oldham, that the Stones hit their stride on albums, with the extraordinary run from Beggars Banquet to Exile on Main Street.

The mid-60s albums that led up to that peak period have just been re-released by Abkco Records. The timing is in the best “entrepreneurial" spirit of its notorious founder, Allen B Klein (the Stones warned the Beatles not to let him manage them - Lennon took that as a recommendation). A warning, however: the first three of these are the American editions of the albums, with tracks dropped to be added to singles to create a new album of pure product. Also, these CD re-issues first appeared in 1986, when rock archaeology was in its infancy; digital remastering has come a long way since.

Aftermath (1966) came out against a back-

drop of Rubber Soul. They assert their own style (let's call it rock music) rather than emulate their black R&B heroes, and the songs - all original for the first time - convey a hip, misogynist arrogance of the reigning kings of bohemian London. (‘Under My Thumb’, ‘Stupid Girl’; ‘Paint it Black', written in Auckland, has been added - but this is still 10 minutes short of the English version.) Between the Buttons (1967) is the Stones’ Revolver - the drugs are beginning to show, in the eclectic arrangements and subversive attitudes. With hits (the desperate build of ‘Let’s Spend the Night Together’, the punchy, complex ‘Ruby Tuesday’) and beat-band pop such as ‘Connection’ (still covered by Keith solo). Flowers (1967) has lots of great songs, but as an album it’s cynical product put out by bean-counters. ‘Ruby Tuesday’ and ‘Let's Spend the Night’ re-appear, ‘Out of Time’ is filched from Aftermath (from which ‘Lady Jane' reappears), 'Back Street Girl’ and ‘Ride On Baby’ are white R&B gems that were stolen from Buttons. Includes a truly awful version of ‘My Girl'. Their Satanic Majesties Request (1967). Let's blame the drugs. Awed by Sgt Pepper, addled by LSD, the Stones throw out this batch of hallucinogenic doodles that would almost be unlistenable if it wasn’t for Nicky Hopkins’s piano and (future Zeppelin bassist) John Paul Jones’s baroque orchestrations on ‘She’s a Rainbow' - acid-pop perfection. Beggars Banquet (1968) is the Stones first comeback from the dead (although Brian Jones was alive, if barely). From the fiasco of Satanic Majesties, they re-group with a flawless album of dissolute classics which reflect the time ('Street Fighting Man’, ‘Sympathy for the Devil’), their Englishness (‘Salt of the Earth’, ‘Factory Girl’) and their love for acoustic blues. Essential.

Let it Bleed (1969). By now the definitive rock pop band, the Beatles all but conquered, they deliver another flawless album. From the epic opener ('Gimme Shelter’) to the epic closer (‘You Can’t Always Get What You Want’), a frightening, exciting farewell to the 60s: the Stones roll their inimitable take on rock, blues and country into the decadent 70s. Singles Collection: The London Years has been re-released in a cheaper triple-pack CD rather than the lavish boxset of 1989. Banquet and Bleed aside, this is the way to hear the Stones of the 60s: in three-minute bursts, with never a foot wrong. With ‘Not Fade Away’, ‘lt’s All Over Now’, ‘Time is on My Side' and ‘Little Red Rooster’ being only the build-up to the perfect triple punch of ‘The Last Time’, ‘Satisfaction’ and ‘Get Off My Cloud’, this is good buying. And all the rare, rootsy B-sides are just a bonus. (But where’s ‘Let it Rock’,

from ‘Brown Sugar’? Maybe we’ll get that the next time they recycle the Stones catalogue.)