Well, after the entirely craptastic A Bigger Bang, I didn’t expect much from the new Stones song, which is one of two that will be on their latest catalog cash grab, GRRRR! (which has a terrible cover as well as some truly spotty song choices on it). But I like this song. It sounds pretty okay, but I’ve only listened to it once. So I guess The Stones aren’t extinct!
Man, this guy needs a better place to record his video, but he’s killin’ it!
Who's pissed?
In a recent post about the closing ceremonies concert of the 2012 London Olympics, I mentioned the segment performed by “The Who,” whose name I put in quotes because I am not sure this is really The Who any more with half the band now deceased. Townsman mockcarr called them Who Are They? and 2000 Man referred to them now as The Two.
If they make another album it could be titled Who’s Left.
When a rock band member departs for whatever reason, whether the departure is fatal to the group continuing in any useful form depends on many factors. One may no longer find much interest in the current Who, but surely with Townshend and Daltrey still onboard as principal and front man, the two most important ingredients remain. Surely, had either of them had passed away rather than Moon and Entwistle, the band most definitely could not have continued.
What about the Stones? We still have Mick and Keith and Charlie and Ronnie. Is Charlie “expendable” in this context? I think Ronnie is. I take no joy in considering this.
This subject also reminds me that Shatner and Nimoy are the last of the four main original Star Trek actors left. There’s still a feasible Superbowl MMXVI-1701 Halftime Show to be had there. Rocket Man!
Who Came First
What other bands are in need of a home care rock nurse or actuarial study? Is there a formula for declaring it over? I think the Who example is a good basis: the main songwriter and the front person are required and probably sufficient to continue. If they are one and the same, everyone else might be expendable if their roles are not too prominent. Of course, the non-casual fans know it all and have their own calculus for a particular situation.
In our recent Stones-oriented Dugout Chatter, Townsman Oats hit the nail on the head regarding the question in the thread that most interested me: What’s Mick Jagger‘s finest hour (or 30 seconds) as a vocalist?
Certainly it’s the verse in “Beast of Burden” that begins with “Now you can put me out on the street…”!
First of all, Mick is commanding. The tension for leadership within the Glitter Twins axis has always been a key feature to the band’s success. In this one moment Mick takes the wheel—and he doesn’t screw it up with one of his blackface or country bumpkin routines. Twenty-five years into his career Mick has finally become the soul singer he always wanted to be—on his own terms. This verse picks up on the work Jagger started in the ’60s, on songs like “Satisfaction” and “Under My Thumb.” Bravo.
Second, through the entire Some Girls album Mick’s voice is treated with the most-effective, straightforward vocal effects in the history of rock ‘n roll. If I could figure out exactly what effects are applied to that song and if I could apply to every song ever recorded I would. My apologies to all other great vocal effects ever used, but that’s the way I feel.
So there, Mick Jagger’s finest vocal hour is that verse from “Beast of Burden.” You’re welcome, in advance, for the role Oats and I have played in settling this debate.
It’s time for a little Dugout Chatter, when Townspeople provide gut answers to a handful of probing questions. You know the drill, right? In case you’re not sure, there’s no right or wrong answers, just honest ones. Today’s Dugout Chatter questions will test the honesty of even the most candid Townspeople. Here goes!
I look forward to your responses.
This one goes to zero!
Rock Town Hall has a long and honored tradition of rock video analysis, with Townspeople often incorporating the distinctive technique of commenting on videos with the sound off. In honor of alexmagic‘s recent analysis of a video of Tom Jones performing with Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, we are instituting a new feature, Sound Off!
The way a Sound Off! thread works is simple:
You will be entrusted to view the following video with the sound off. If we could disable the video’s sound we would, but something tells me the copyright holder of the video might object to that. Trust us, for the purposes of this thread the sound will get in the way. Beside, you may be viewing this at work, in which case coworkers will only be distbured by your giggles; you won’t have to worry about the artist’s music leaking into their cube.
After the jump, why don’t you turn the sound off and watch the following video!
Last week the family and I were in the car for a short trip out for dinner. I switched on the local Classic Rock station and “Waiting on a Friend” came on the radio.
“This song isn’t up to your high standards, is it?” my wife asked with a mocking glance from the passenger’s seat.
“Actually, I like this song,” I said, leaving out the fact that for a good 15 years I did not allow myself to like it. “It’s ‘Start Me Up’ that is the last straw for me and the Stones.”
With each passing year I really do like “Waiting on a Friend.” I like the video even better. I value friendship above just about everything else. It’s really nice how patient Mick is waiting for Keef to show up and take a walk. In contrast, the guy sitting at the cafe window at the 1:33 mark looks so sad, doesn’t he? He clearly doesn’t have a great old friend like Keef who’s running just a few minutes late. I’ll stop now before I tear up at the site of Mick and Keef eventually meeting up with Ronnie at the bar, where they swig beer; sashay to the music; lean into each other; and practice multiple means of self-stimulation by running hands through messy hair, playing with a scarf, and taking deep drags off a cigarette.
With each passing year I like “Start Me Up” less. I didn’t like it the day I first heard it, when it was released. I don’t like it even one bit today. It’s the musical equivalent of Mick’s stupid football pants. It’s a real ass-kisser of a song by a band that made its bones kicking ass. It’s Mick run wild with his penchant for 17-year-old Brazilian models. It’s musical Viagra, before there even was such a pill. It’s Keef doing that stupid knee bend while pulling off one of his patented “no-hands” 5-string guitar moves. It’s the sound of all the wrong people suddenly getting excited over a band that meant a lot to me.
I didn’t tell my wife any of this stuff that was running through my sick brain, but I did tell her this: “Did I ever tell you about the time sophomore year when I turned down second-row seats for that Stones tour in Chicago?”
“Huh?” My wife has good taste and is a snob in her own right. She knows that Stones were beginning to head downhill at that time, but she doesn’t read deep meanings into “Under My Thumb” and the groove of “Beast of Burden.” She can enjoy “Start Me Up” for what it probably is: a fun dance song.
“Yeah, a guy in our frat’s dad was some kind of union head,” I explained. “He got us an entire row of seats, the second row, front and center. I was offered a ticket for $20. I was already certain the band sucked. I turned it down.”
“You need to turn yourself into Rock Town Hall for one of those Rock Crimes,” my wife exclaimed. “You’re sick! If you don’t turn yourself in I’m going to log on and out you. Turn yourself in and see if they find you guilty!”
So here I am, Too Cool for School, circa 1982. Was I justified in turning down that second-row ticket—maybe even visionary—or am I guilty of having been Too Cool for School?
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