Sticky Fingers - Rolling Stones (The) (CD 1994)

Here's the best way to un-depress yourself when you think about the big barrel of corporate fat and logos the Rolling Stones have buried themselves in since 1982 (Tattoo You was their last undisputed classic. Wanna dispute it? Okay, you lose. I win. Therefore, it is undisputed. Nyeah nyeah nyeah nyeah nyeah. You can't beat me. Can not! Can not! Can not! My daddy can beat up your daddy with only the TIP of his little finger).

Thank goodness they hadn't invented drive by shootings and kids taking guns to elementary school in the mid 70s.

Now that that debate has been intelligently and eloquently settled, let's get on about the business of Sticky Fingers, an album which represents the Stones at their loudest, hottest, and nastiest. "Brown Sugar" is probably the greatest opening salvo on any album in the past 25 years, a song which perfectly encapsulates the Rolling Stones ethic of 30 years ago. Mix up the Mississippi blues with Chuck Berry riffs, add a caveman drum mix (a compliment), scorching Stax/Voltish horn solos, and the satanic gravelly leer behind Mick Jagger's voice. Jagger was always at his best when he had to fight to be heard in the mix, like he did on this track and throughout much of Exile On Main Street As Well.

The Stones do display a remarkable versatility. They had always been interested in American country music -- they consistently cite George Jones as a big influence, but hadn't yet found there way "in" to the genre after several attempts. "No Expectations" on "Beggar's Banquet" opened the door, but "Dear Doctor," the next track, promptly shut it. "Wild Horses" has, of course, been covered by everyone from (gulp, gasp) the Eagles to Garth Brooks (BLEEEAACCHHH!! -- and, no, I am not mistaking the song called "Wild Horses" on his "No Fences" album. But it is an equally vomit-worthy song. He's done both. I was a radio prisoner in the passenger seat of a friend's car when he played the song. Guy Music Rule #12. He or she who steers the car controls the radio. Mike's Car Music Rule #1. From now on, A,B,D: Always Be Driving.)

On Wild Horses they truly break through, so to speak, to the country side with a brilliant and fresh-sounding mix of those hard-hitting drums, pedal steel, and Richards' tasty leads. "You Gotta Move" is a delicious cover -- though actually an eerie facsimile of Mississippi Fred MacDowell's original. And I mean it -- Jagger sounds exactly like Mississippi Fred on a potent track that surfs.

That says less about taking points off for lack of originality than it does for the earnestness of the Stones's vision. In other words, seek out the original also. The Stones, Dylan, God, whoops I meant Eric Clapton (sorry, God), didn't come from thin air. Seek out Robert Johnson, McKinley Morganfield, Huddy Ledbetter (you'll have to do your research to get the names those two recorded under. Learn something along the way. How deeply ironic it is that McKinely Morganfield is just about the whitest original name given to a black blues musician).

This brings us to "Biitch" which is top 5 Stones all the way, and the only track on Sticky Fingers that truly surpasses Brown Sugar in encompassing the essence of Stone-ness, in all their sweaty, nasty glory presaged in this period by Sympathy For The Devil, the track on Beggar's Banquet which, among other things, announced they were no longer going to even attempt to follow in the "love everybody" footsteps of the Beatles and seemingly the rest of the planet and, instead, were going to earnestly carve out the darker and more exotic and nastier image for themselves that critics and tv exects who demanded they change the lyrics to "let's spend SOME TIME together" said they were doing anyway.

The rhythm is a true pile driver with a relentless riff and an again tasty horn solo built on that riff meant to encapsulate the true, complex, and deeply heartfelt message of Jagger's lyrics, "You gotta fix it, child, you got to fix it, but love -- it's a biitch" Certain points in your life I say Bob Dylan just don't work, nor does the "everything's gonna be okay oh lovey dovey" ethic of m modern country. Thank you, Mr. J, for a shotta gravelly, insinuating, and deeply sexy truth.

The next track is a Stax/Volt soul-style workout that shows the Stones' righteous infatuation with Otis Redding, who showed his righteous infatuation with the Stones on his cover of "Satisfaction". Here, the Stones seem out of place. And it's because Jagger isn't a soul singer on the lines of Redding, and the keyboard solo is simply annoying. Jagger at the end resorts to the ultimate blues cliche of singing "I got the blues"

But on the last tracks the Stones recover admirably. Dead Flowers is another righteous country jaunt that suggests they had taken Gram Parson's advice to listen to the Harry Smith Anthology and absorb all those deeply morbid, strange, and beautiful lyrics ("if you send me dead flowers I'll rememeber to put fresh roses on your grave" -- what planet does that come from?). Marry those lyrics to a catchy melody with a galloping rhythm and you have one strange and beautiful song. "Sister Morphine" is an oft-told morality tale of drugs recorded perhaps during a brief period of mutual recovery, but it comes complete with an unusual riff and melody that add shades of darkness to the tale.

A nasty, brutish, and deeply unrelenting classic, even when it comes to its fully explored country roots.