Exile on Main Street [Limited] - Rolling Stones (The) (CD 1994)

It is not a rare occurrence that a record most people overlook becomes a fave of mine ( Mutations , 13 , Something Else By The Kinks and Nothing s Shocking being prime examples). Similarly, there is a considerable list of supposedly must have albums that I don t get at all- this includes the loathsome Kid A ; the trying-too-hard In Utero ; the well intentioned but way too sugary for it s own good What s Going On ; and, above all, Exile On Main Street , a double album (or single CD) filled with the lamest, most tedious cocaine hangover music that the Stones have ever produced that has somehow (despite the justified disses it got when released) managed to become a classic , essential record that many people even consider the high point of The Rolling Stone s career. I hear none of the supposedly heartbreaking sadness or rebel rousing dirty Rock that most people seem to hear in this record; all I hear is a bunch of jaded millionaires in tax exile (on main street?) sounding like they re not even trying anymore.

Admitidably, you d never guess by the opening number. Rocks Off is pure Stones, wild Rock & Roll that makes you want to boogie and look almost as ridiculous as Mick himself did. The twin guitars of Keith Richards and the criminally underrated Mick Taylor give out crunching sounds while a horn section fills the song with Southern flair and Mick Jagger gives a vocal performance that prophesises It s Only Rock & Roll . Rip This Joint , too, is exciting, even if it s basically just a poppier version of the first track.

The trouble starts with Hip Shake , a bare boned song fragment. Not bare boned in the good, Velvet Underground way, mind you...bare-boned in a in dire need of some chicken soup way. The backing is poor man s John Lee Hooker, Jagger s vocal is poor man s Bo Diddley. Pathetic.

And it doesn t get any better from thereon- you barely notice it when a new song comes on because they all sound exactly the same anyway (oh sure, some percussion here, some bulls-hit Country there, but who cares?). This album was one of my very first purchases, I bought it when I was ten and have listened to it many times...but I still couldn t name the titles of even half the songs on Exile... today. I m sixteen now. It s all just deadly dull, wasted, blooze schmooze (thanks, Lester) cock Rock. The lyrics are mediocre, when they re actually there, there s nothing catchy, and hell there isn t even a good guitar solo to be found anywhere....I blame the cocaine (look at what it did to the cr*ppy from the get-go Oasis!).

Then again, maybe you can t push all the blame on the drugs, either. After all, great music always is a product of it s time, even the timeless kind of it. Sgt.Pepper s Lonley Hearts Club Band could never have been made in 1968, Let It Bleed would ve sounded lousy had it been released in 1970. Yes, I m getting somewhere here, don t rush me...

What I mean is that in the 60 s, The Rolling Stone s melange of drugs, bad behaviour and stolen Blues was relevant, brave and important. In 1972, it was just jaded and downright ugly. I mean, it s no big surprise that Mick couldn t find anything more worthwhile to sing than thank you for your wine, California - what was there to sing about? They weren t going to change the world anymore, that s for sure; drug lyrics had lost their shock value, and no one dared to suggest a Motown cover anymore in this boring era of serious music. Heck, they couldn t even whine about any of it anymore, since they had already done so various times.

So, what was left? Party music. Oooga ogga yeah yeah mow mow I wanna be yer hoochie coochie man I need a fix n a kiss. Alcohol, pi*ss and vomit. Sounds appealing enough, doesn t it?

But even that was no longer a possibility. The Stones had had their day, and now the party was elsewhere, at a place that was the polar opposite of Exile On Main Street s ragged cover.

Bowie. Bolan. The Sweet. Mott The Hopple. Glam Rock, baby! Glitz and sexual ambiguity and catchy hooks. Platform boots. Champagne. Or else a test ride in George Clinton s funky mothership prototype, which was just standing on the verge of getting it on. How could a bunch of wasted, jaded limeys compete with that?

The Rolling Stones are so immensely talented, though, that hints of brilliance can t help but show up. There s one at the chorus of Tumbling Dice , some at the beginning of Torn & Frayed . Near the end, there s even a bona-fida classic : Shine A Light is the only reason I can think of for ever owning this piece of cr*p, and it is a damn good one. A tender ballad, with Mick Jagger backed by a Gospel chorus, shows signs of what this album could ve been like:

May the good lord/shine a light on you/warm like the evening sun

I m a diehard atheist, but I ll be the first one to admit that s some beautiful lyrics right there.

And, of course, The Stone always were professionals- Mick Taylor is a kickass guitarist, Mick Jagger plays a mean harp. So if it s only good old-fashioned drunken boogie-woogie you re after, this might appeal to you. But, frankly, if that s all you re after, you might as well go out and buy the new Black Crowes album.

The Rolling Stones have been dissed constantly throughout the 90 s for being Rock dinosaurs that repeated their same old songs over and over again. That might be true, but that s still much better than the coke ridden, barely sentient zombies of 1972. The lousiness of Exile On Main Street , and the excellence of Bridges To Babylon attest to that.