(8th in a series of) Stepping Stones: "Partners for 'Life' "

Song: She’s So Cold

Album: Emotional Rescue

Released: June, 1980

Partnerships can be risky business.  The variables to take into consideration are multiplied when two or more are involved in the decision making process, and over the long term the relationship typically must deal with an ever expanding set of dynamics.  Deciding to go into a partnership is ultimately a choice between success and failure, winning and losing, good times and bad.  Some remove themselves from the concept whenever they can, choosing to go solo in most ventures:  Hockey and football are abandoned at a young age for wrestling and swimming.  Charades is abandoned for chess.  The assembly line is abandoned for the work bench.  Big projects needing multiple skill sets are abandoned for smaller, more manageable go-it-alone ones.  

Being the safer bet, the solo route is still plenty gratifying when it pans out.  I’d argue however that a successful partnership has the potential to be far more gratifying.  Maybe it’s relating to someone else during the highs and lows.   Maybe it’s the ability to look back at a common experience.  Maybe it’s the triumph of a moment.  More likely, it’s all the above.  This week’s Stepping Stone is all about partnerships, along with the book that inspired the focus on this topic, and the boycott that had to be hurdled first.

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When I first mentioned to everyone that I was starting a new series centered on 50 years of Rolling Stones music, I was well into a personal boycott; that being a refusal to purchase and read Keith Richards’ 2010 autobiography “Life”.  This played out in the potential gift-receiving realm as well:  Nancy had hinted several times at buying the book for me, but my ambivalence gave her hesitation. 

My reason for the blackballing was simple:  Keith Richards has always refused to recognize his peers, and after leafing through the index of “Life” at a book store, my suspicions that his stance would continue were confirmed:  Little to no recognition of Pete Townshend and The Who; nothing on Ray Davies and The Kinks; no Syd Barrett, Roger Waters and Pink Floyd, no Van Morrison, and no Neil Young.  Absolutely nothing about much of the music that came soon after: Led Zeppelin, The Allman Brothers, and later Elvis Costello, the Clash, U2, Springsteen and R.E.M.  There was some content on the Beatles, but then again a Rolling Stones book would be impossible without saying something about the Beatles.  There was some content on Bob Dylan, but it’s impossible to write any music story that starts in the 60s without discussing Dylan.

On the contrary, however, there was plenty of reference to Keith’s early influences, the Bluesmen from the deep South mentioned in earlier Stepping Stones, as well the first wave of Rock ‘n Rollers that came before the Stones, including Chuck Berry, Elvis Presley, Little Richard, Fats Domino, Aretha Franklin, Jerry Lee Lewis, and the Everly Brothers.  But the fact of the matter is and has always been that if the music came along any time after the Stones, Keith Richards refuses to recognize it… unless he has some affiliation (for example his ties with the Rastafarian musicians of Jamaica).  It all reeked of a twisted need to build up his legacy (as if he needs it).  And if Richards was not going to recognize his peers, I was not going to recognize his book. 

So was the case two months back when the family and I headed down to the Citarell’s to join in the celebration of Dad’s birthday.  While there, fellow Stones aficionados, Amy and Paul, independently insisted that my first order of business in starting up the new series, should be to read KRs book:  They were unaware of my bias, and surprised that I had not yet picked it up.  Having read it themselves, they were both sure I would enjoy it.

Deep inside, I knew they were right. 

Upon its release in the fall of 2010, the aptly named “Life” was received by both fans and critics alike as a well written, open, and honest account of a true Rock n’ Roll rebel; the poster boy in fact. In the ensuing year, the reputation of the book had only grown, to the point where it was being talked about as an all-time, upper tier retrospective of the life of a pop-culture icon.  I had over that time already read several excerpts and reviews, as well as paged through copies in bookstores.  Just about everything I’d taken in confirmed it as a must read.  Amy and Paul’s recommendations were the last straw.  After thinking about it a bit more, I realized that Keith Richards is simply an anomaly:  His musical interests a bit out of the box compared with many in his circles.  I decided to put an end to my boycott.

I’m glad I did.  There are numerous reasons to read “Life” for anyone interested in the Rolling Stones, their music, and their times.  First, despite his appearance, and demeanor, Keith Richards has one helluva memory.  And he remembers interesting stuff, not overly factual or self-centered fluff (which was how Bill Wyman came across in his autobiography “Stone Alone”), but fascinating tidbits, like describing in passionate ways how he writes and plays music; his nomadic years (most all of them); the truths behind the myths regarding his Dad’s ashes, blood transfusions, and his tree falling episode; and his views on being a life-long member of many-a top-ten-deathwatch lists (often ranking at number 1).

Second, despite his 9-lives, self abusive history, Richards has become quite the family man over the past several decades.  I credit his wife Patti Hansen for this, but I also credit Richards for knowing a good thing when he saw it.  One of the more moving stories in the book was how Hansen’s father and brothers slowly, begrudgingly accepted Keith as part of the family.  It had the feel of the movie “The Quiet Man”, with Keith as John Wayne’s character, the ex-boxer Sean Thornton going up against Red Danaher to gain Red’s approval for his sister’s hand in marriage.  In Richards’ case, several of Hansen’s brothers are very Christian, and, well, it was just hard for them to accept this wiry, ex-heroin addict into the fold.  But they eventually do, in a big way, and its how Richards handles himself in the face of the adversity that ultimately wins them over.

Thirdly, as stated in a review I read, this is not a confessional, 12-step recovery type of story.  For someone who has been through as much as he has, Keith Richards has no regrets.  This is oddly refreshing.  But he does not hold back on discussing the low points.  He reveals the sad story of his friendship with fellow addict Gram Parsons and his hard-to-read relationship with Anita Pallenberg.  He does not recommend any of it, but he does not deny any of it either.  Again, it works.

Fourth, Richards comes across as a true friend to many.  On any given tour, you find him chumming with roadies, support musicians (particularly Bobby Keys), fans, or relatives touring with the band.  He does not come across as elitist or money-driven in the least.  And there does not appear to be a prejudice bone in Richards’ body, be this in regards to age, race, sexual orientation or even gender.  This last one may be hard to believe with the reputation the Stones have gained through their music and related exploits as a chauvinistic band.   But I finished this book last week with no sense that Keith Richards has ever had a disparaging slant in his views on woman.  You have to read between the lines, but that’s what I concluded.  If anything, he “puts them on a pedestal”.

Fifth, his “Life” is truly amazing to read about.  The opening chapter says it all; his arrest in a rural southern town in the early 70’s (“Why did we stop at the 4-Dice Restaurant in Fordyce, Arkansas, for lunch on Independence Day weekend?  On any weekend?” is how he starts the book) and how he got out of it (sorry, you will have to read it to get the details).  Few of us could be so charmed.  Also, how he lived for months on end in the South of France during the “Exile on Main Street” sessions:  Open house; music blasting at all hours; people constantly roaming in and out; neighbors being driven to the brink and beyond; days without sleep; sporadic, intense and unpredictable moments of musical inspiration.  This is the story of a true bohemian.  I can connect with bits and pieces of it, but when adding this period up with many others in his “Life”, it’s all hard to fathom.

Now all this being said, Keith Richards can be nasty, and very much so. There are moments reading this book when I cringed at some of the things he says about others.  His nastiness is aimed in surprising directions though, including at fellow band members, the late Brian Jones and more daringly, Mick Jagger.  Despite the vitriol though, I’m surprised that I did not come away thinking any less of Jones or Jagger (well, maybe a little of Jones).  I suppose it’s because the writing was too good: Cutting while not permanently damaging.  And there was plenty of praise mixed in as well.

One of the biggest reasons for most folks to read this book was to hear KRs slant on his 50 year connection with Mick Jagger.  He does not disappoint.  Which brings me back to the main theme of this week’s Stepping Stone:  Partnerships.  Such a long period to spend as a business partner with someone is not unprecedented, but it is rare.  In fact, setting aside longevity for a moment, there are only a handful of successful songwriting tandems that even compare with Jagger/Richards:  Lennon/McCartney, Rodgers/Hammerstein, Plant/Page, Bacharach/David, and Taupin/John all come to mind.  Again, none were nearly as sustained. 

With such a long stretch of being a tandem, there were bound to be down periods for Jagger/Richards.  One pivotal stretch in their relationship was the late 70s/early 80s.  Keith Richards was just getting over a long period of addiction, and ready to get more involved in the business side of things, as well as the future direction of the band.  According to Richards in his book, his partner would have none of it.  Jagger had gotten used to making the big decisions by this time, and one of them was taking the band in a new music direction. The front man was sick of being a jack hammer on stage.  He wanted to start grooving, and began to introduce a more poppy, dare I say, disco sound.

What do you get when one strong willed partner’s impulse is to morph (Jagger) regardless of the implications, when the other strong willed partner’s impulse is to stay the course (Richards)?  In just about every case, it leads to a band breakup.  In the Rolling Stones case, the world instead got songs like She’s so Cold, this week’s Stepping Stone.

To many critics the new sound was viewed as an over compromise.  Fair enough.  But when seen through the eyes of Richards, and anyone who appreciates what can happen when people defy the odds, it was much more than that.  One thing that comes across in “Life” is how much KR values his band and that only an act of God should allow it to dissolve.  This philosophy is what distinguished the Stones from most all other bands, including The Beatles:  Artistic differences were not going to do them in and Richards was the man behind this attitude.

Seeing Keith Richards making the types of music changes he made during this time is akin to seeing Frank Sinatra roll out a rap record, or Madonna going punk, or General George Patton carrying a peace sign.  I believe Keith’s attitude was, “if this is what is going to motivate Mick (basically, how it’s going to be) then I need to Stones-ify the sound”.   He did it as best he could, and I’m certain that a song like She’s so Cold would not have survived as a Jagger solo effort (and speaking of Jagger solo projects, Richards gets into those too > “Have I listened to Mick’s solo albums?  Who has?”). 

The official pre-MTV video of She’s so Cold ( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qrRSEVRgqVY

) is over the top (as many Stones videos are), but I do find it interesting.  First, it’s likely one of the best “Jagger in the Mirror” videos out there (SNL with Jimmy Fallon: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i9_Z0-fRB54 ).  In other words, if you are going to attempt to imitate Moves like Jagger, this is a good place to start (“But she’s beau-ti-ful though” at 1:46 of the video is a perfect example).  Secondly, I noted Jagger stepping up on to the raised drum stage during the bass-driven bridge (2:15) to join the rhythm section.  Mick had unlikely allies during this musical transition in Watts and Wyman,(who’s bass playing on disco pop hits like Miss You, Emotional Rescue, and She’s So Cold are some of his best), and he appears to show his appreciation here.  Thirdly, it’s clear that the Glimmer Twins (Jagger/Richards) are not connecting in this video, as most of Mick’s goofing is with Ronnie Wood instead.

A few more personal thoughts on partnerships:  After making the challenging transition from listening to Sister Morphine (last week’s Stepping Stone) to listening to She’s so Cold and focusing on “Life”, I began thinking of my own personal partnerships.  Three of them came to mind.  The first is my marriage to Nancy, which I’d already elucidated on in several Gem Videos (particularly #’s 14 & 65), and which I’ll be certain to discuss more if I’m lucky enough.  The second is a team of five that I have been honored to be associated with for many years at USGS, the StreamStats team (http://water.usgs.gov/osw/streamstats/), which has been an amazing experience for me.  But, jeez, I’d be boring the daylights out of everyone with that one. 

The third partnership that came to mind was a much shorter one:  3 months to be exact.  This was a partnership of adventure, taking place in Europe during the spring/summer of 1986.  My partner in this case was my great friend Bob Mainguy (included here as always), and I call our trip a partnership because we were dependent on each other for a good stretch of time, in numerous countries, and we needed to make many decisions together, often under duress.  I hope to at one time do it all justice, but I’ll just say for now that there was no one who could have made that experience any more fascinating than Bob did.  She’s So Cold is actually a personal memory of that trip:  Singing it with several other friends we had made on the streets of Pamplona during the Running of the Bulls.  Great memories never die.

Ok, I’m going to wrap up, but not before adding a few more loose ends to this borderline bombast.  First, Keith Richards not recognizing his peers can be humorous at times.  Case in point: Often the Stones have guest appearances during their shows, and one show I was watching on pay-per-view had Axl Rose from Guns and Roses, duet-ing with Mick Jagger for a rendition of Salt of the Earth.  At the end of the song, Axl is bowing to the crowd and Keith, from behind, points at him and then gestures “thumbs off”.  That was funny.

Second, Richards had a number of folks chime in for his book to help illuminate parts of his story.  One of them was his best buddy, Bobby Keys, a Texas boy and longtime backing saxophonist for the Stones.  One of my favorite lines in the book was Keys explaining what Keith Richards said when they both discovered that they were born within hours of each other (12/18/43):  “Bobby you know what that means?  We’re half man and half horse, and we got a license to shit in the streets”.  According to Keys “Well, that’s just one of the greatest pieces of information I’d ever received in my life!”

Finally, though the album “Emotional Rescue” (on which She’s So Cold is on) makes few fans lists of best Rolling Stones albums, it does hold one higher distinction (as revealed by Richards):  It is the only Stones album where the original tapes were actually blessed by the Pope.  I’ve spent parts of this week trying to grasp the effects of this distinction. 

It will take more time:  Maybe a “Life” time.

(7th in a series of) Stepping Stones: "Showmanship and Spectacle"

Song: Sister Morphine

Album: Sticky Fingers

Released: April, 1971

A while back, longtime friend Kurt asked me, if I could choose a singular event to have been at over our lifetimes, which one would it have been?  Kurt should have said “sporting event”, which was his real intention with the question.  He had in mind big sports moments:  Bobby Orr’s OT Stanley Cup winning goal in 1970; Carleton Fisk’s foul-pole homer vs. the Big Red Machine in 1975; the Patriots “squishing the fish” in 1986; Larry Bird stealing the ball against the Detroit Pistons in 1987 (note: this question was posed before the great Boston sports moments of this past decade).

Since Kurt’s question was not specific enough, though, my thoughts went elsewhere:  More specifically, the music world.  I believe my responses included the Beatles at the Cavern Club in 1962; Woodstock in 1969; the Who “Live at Leeds” in 1970; the Watkins Glen Festival in 1973; Bob Dylan on his Rolling Thunder Revue tour in 1975; and Neil Young’s Rust Never Sleeps tour in 1976.  Kurt looked at me for a moment a bit quizzically, and then finally stated something along the lines of “good answer”.

Given a great sport event and a great concert event, I’ll choose the concert every time.  I’ve gone to my fair share of tremendous shows over the years, and wrote about some of the best several years back for Gem Music Video of the Week # 83 (“Night School”).  The song for that Gem entry was Memory Motel by the Rolling Stones (one of two Gem Videos featuring songs by the Stones).  The theme was great concerts, with a focus on large stadium shows.  And when it comes to the big stage, the Stones have mastered it better than anyone. 

So, having discussed the broad brush topic already, I’ll instead zero in here and relive a great concert moment.  I define a great concert moment as a transitional stretch in a concert, when the event evolves from solid show to Spectacle. These are the moments you always hope to see but rarely do.  In sports, they usually come at the end of a game, as did Bobby’s goal, Larry’s steal and Carleton Fisk’s homerun.  Not so with a concert moment.  These are much more unpredictable as to when they will happen.  I’ve seen a few that have had a lasting impact, and I hope to write about them all at one time or another. 

Here’s the first.

In October, 1997, the Rolling Stones arrived in Foxboro, Massachusetts (the old Foxboro Stadium) on their Bridges to Babylon Tour.  This was the tour that included a smaller “B”-stage near the center of the stadium, which core members of the band (sans support musicians) would hike out to about half way through the show to perform 3-4 songs (the Stones gained access to the smaller stage via a 150 foot long cantilever bridge, which extended out over the crowd, and contracted back after the mini-set was over). 

Brother Pat, Brother-in-law, Paul, and I attended that misty fall evening.  Sheryl Crow opened with a nice set.  The Stones then emerged in typical explosive fashion:  Keith Richards leading the band out to the stage through a burst of fireworks, playing the opening rifts to Satisfaction. This was followed by 3 more songs under bright lights (reviewing the set list on line, these songs included It’s Only Rock n’ Roll, Let’s Spend the Night Together and Flip the Switch).  Often it takes a while for a band to get it’s rhythm down, but on this night the Stones were already in fine form, and most of us in attendance sensed it. 

They could have kept it at cruise control from here, but the Stones then decided to up the ante, as it was at this point where a solid show began to transition into a Spectacle.  It started with Gimme Shelter, as the lights dimmed, and the stage began to take on a more eerie glow.  Many, including myself, were brought back to 1969, violence in the streets at home, and war overseas in Vietnam:

“Oh, a storm is threat’ning

My very life today

If I don’t get some shelter

Oh, yeah, I’m gonna fade away”

I recall being amazed at how closely Lisa Fishser’s backing vocals resembled the original Merry Clayton recording:  “It’s just a shot away.  It’s just a shot away”.  The crowd roared at the songs conclusion.  A new tone had been set for the evening.  Could they keep it up? 

The band then launched into Sister Morphine as the lights remained way low.  It was a song I had always hoped to hear live, but had never really expected.  Too deep of a cut and rarely played live, but here it was, the opening notes unmistakable.  Written in the same tumultuous period as Gimme Shelter, Sister Morphine (which is now recognized as having been co-written by Marianne Faithfull) has an ominous feel to it, the lyrics describing the protagonist on a hospital deathbed and in an altered state, ambulance sirens still ringing in the victim’s ears from the tragedy that lead to this moment:

“Here I lie in my hospital bed
Tell me, sister morphine, when are you coming round again?
Oh, I don't think I can wait that long
Oh, you see that I’m not that strong”

Then after several more verses (including the classic line “Why does the doctor have no face”), the guitar bridge kicked in:  The bottleneck guitar bridge that is.  Could Woody pull it off, since it had originally been played on the studio version by Ry Cooder?  No problem there.  It was a perfect rendition.  In fact, the entire song up to this point had been a perfect rendition of the studio album.  The atmosphere was thick.  You could hear a pin drop between notes.  But the intensity level had not peaked just yet.  At the tail end of the bottleneck guitar bridge, Charlie Watts kicked in perfectly with the drum beat that sent the song into overdrive (2:41 of the attached video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gtz8qZz6s8s ). 

This is when Mick Jagger took over, while taking on the appearance of a much younger version of his self.

With all 60,000 or so pairs of eyes now fixed on him, Jagger slowly turned and glided in our direction.  He then looked directly at us in a way that a hypnotist would look when putting his patient under a spell.  But instead of saying “watch the crystal ball”, the master performer of his time uttered the next set of lines in the familiar lower octave previously heard verbatim on the studio version of the song:

“Well it just goes to showwwwwwww

Things are not what they seeeeeeeeeem

Tell me, Sister Morphine

Turn my nightmares into dreams

Oh, can’t you see I’m fading fast

And that this shot…… will be my laaaaaaaaaaaaast”

It was bone chilling.  It was jaw dropping.  

The Spectacle was complete.

The rest of the show was brilliant (including a magnificent rendition of 19^th Nervous Breakdown, and of course the B-stage set).  But it was all icing on a cake that had already been perfectly baked 6 songs in. 

What is it about Spectacle that has such a powerful effect throughout life?  Is it a connection to childhood fascination, be it a long-ago visit to a circus, zoo, or carnival (Jolly Chollys!); or the faded memory of what it felt like to first successfully build a complex model or puzzle; or an early exploration into the woods with your Dad?  Whatever it is, it’s amazing when it all comes sweeping back.  Hey, there’s nothing wrong with feeling like a kid again.  I think we all strive for it whether we acknowledge it or not.

“Sticky Fingers” is my favorite Rolling Stones album.  It’s loaded with Stepping Stones, including the 3 extremely diverse atmospheric songs that close the album (starting with Sister Morphine).  I hope to get to all the others at one time or another.

Epilogue:  After writing the meat of this Stepping Stone Wednesday evening (the Sister Morphine concert experience), I pulled out Keith Richards’ book “Life” one last time, since I could not keep my eyes open to finish the concluding pages the nite before.  At the very end of the story, Keith talks about the passing of his Mom, Doris, several years back and how he spent time at her bedside playing some of the earliest songs he learned on the guitar (including “Malaguena”) while still living with her.  Between songs, Keith asks his Mom how she’s doing.  One of the last things she says to him: “This morphine’s not bad”.

I’ll be talking more about “Life” next week.

Until then

(6th in a series of) Stepping Stones: "Live from New York: A Skit with Bite"

Song: Before They Make Me Run

Album: Some Girls

Released: June, 1978

One of my earliest lasting impressions of the Rolling Stones was watching them on Saturday Night Live in 1978.  More on that event and its effect on me below, but first a comparison:  This connection was a good 4 years into my exploration of all things Beatles, which was launched by my parents through several album purchases in the early 70s (Sgt Pepper and the Red Album).  The fact that it took an additional 4 years to make inroads with the Rolling Stones speaks volumes.  Though contemporaries of the Beatles, and almost as popular, the Stones were not a brand that was going to be marketed by Mom and Dad.  Most open-minded parents (like mine) could wrap their arms around the Beatles, or at least enjoy listening to them on occasion.  Not so with the Rolling Stones: They came across as something else entirely. 

By the mid 60’s the Rolling Stones had firmly established their “Bad Boy” reputation.  As is the case with many outlaws, this image is steeped in both myth and reality.  It was an image partly fed by their management to contrast them with the Beatles (one Canadian journalist bought into the comparison in 1965 with an article titled “would you let your daughter marry a Rolling Stone?”).  However, be careful what you ask for:  The Stones soon became a target for a broad spectrum of the establishment.  To many, they were the white trash who hit the megabucks.  They were the Beverley Hillbillies, jumping into the “C-ment Pond” at all hours of the evening.  They were the drug users; the sex fiends; the slovenly, unkempt, riffraff.  They needed to be put in their place, and this general quest by authority figures (in numerous countries) made life for the Stones unstable and unpredictable for many years (at least until the late 70s when they became “Respectable”).

It was this reputation that was stirring in the back of my mind all those years ago when I stayed up to watch the band perform on late night TV. I was curious, but between the prolonged negative press and my own inclination to conform to most cultural norms in those days, the Rolling Stones were in somewhat of an uphill battle.

A little backdrop:  In 1978 the Rolling Stones were at the height of their game.  They had just released an album, “Some Girls” that propelled them back to the forefront of the music world.  During that period, they were spending much of their time in New York City, and this turned out to be a gold mine location for inspiration.  Manhattan was going through one of its major renaissances.  It was the place to connect with all types of music, be it new wave, punk, disco, or reggae.  All of these genres were at a fever pitch that year, and the Stones took advantage of each and every one, welding them together on their new album (with many of the songs referencing New York experiences). 

Along with the music, the Big Apple renaissance of the period included comedy, and in this profession, the folks who would yell “Live from New York, its Saturday Night!” on a weekly basis were without peer.  The original Not Ready For Prime Time Players were still largely intact and, as with the Stones, they were also at the top of their game.  Side note:  Another part of the renaissance, Bucky Dent and the NY Yankees, I would rather not discuss.

And so, it was quite the convergence of people, place and time that graced the “30 Rock” stage that evening.  I believe I sensed this at the time, realizing there was something unique about it all (though unaware it was fleeting).  The band performed 3 songs in typical Stones swagger (Shattered, Beast of Burden, and Respectable), but it was a sketch, ‘The Olympia Restaurant’ that had me most intrigued.  In this sketch, John Belushi, Laraine Newman, Dan Aykroyd, and Bill Murray all played roles as a Greek family running a diner for a lunch crowd (“Cheeseburger, Cheeseburger, Pepsi, Pepsi”), which by this time they had mastered, having performed it hilariously on several shows already.

On this night, the skit started off with the standard players.  Then, two Stones, Charlie Watts and Ronnie Wood, walk in and sit at the bar, playing pretty much anonymous versions of themselves.  It was a pleasant surprise to see several of the evening’s musicians in a skit (Mick Jagger was in another skit earlier in the evening, but that was not as surprising considering his side-acting career and stage presence).  I settled in for what I was hoping would be a few funny exchanges.  Disorder soon escalates, however; Watts and Wood get promptly abused by Pete Dionasopolis (Belushi), and are finally tossed out of the diner.  The whole scene came across as a bit unscripted, odd and unexpected.

What was there to make of this?  One interpretation could be that it was standard treatment at The Olympia Restaurant, but that was not my reaction.  Though I couldn’t fully grasp it at the time, what I saw was a clash of cultures (even though one of the cultures was an act):  Wood and Watts stood out in the crowd, and the Belushi character’s treatment of them was a bit over the top when compared to his usual tirade.  In hindsight, I think it was very clever of Belushi (who was a big time Rolling Stones fan) to do what he did.  In the process, he revealed something in me, perhaps a slight prejudice, at a time when I could take advantage of this insight.  I was still young and pliable, and so were many others watching the show that night.

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Though the Stones were clicking on all cylinders at the time, there was one member, Keith Richards, who was on the edge of derailment.  Richards was at the tail end of a decade long heroin addiction.  After many brushes with the law over the years, it appeared his lifestyle had finally caught up with him, having been charged with a very serious offense for possession in Toronto in 1977. He was facing a long prison sentence when the Stones convened to cut the tracks for “Some Girls”. 

Jagger/Richards are the names associated with virtually every Rolling Stones song, but it is the rare occasion when Richards takes lead vocals.  This week’s Stepping Stone Before They Make Me Run, is one of these occasions ( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qpZ048-_xFQ ).  For a tough hombre, Keith Richards actually sounds unnerved in this song (he was) and his vocals would not have stood up unaided.  But in an unusual public gesture of caring, Mick Jagger offers up backing vocals that have the feel of attempting to carry a long time friend through an ordeal:  Waiting on a Friend indeed.  These backing vocals first kick in at the 1:43 mark of the attached video and then a few more times after the 2:20 mark. 

Nancy has always been a bigger fan of Keith Richards’ vocals than Mick Jagger’s.  Go figure.  I do see it sometimes, though.  Not so much in the strength of his singing (little to none), but more how the words just role off his tongue in a way that nobody could ever replicate.  He sings the way he plays guitar:  Weaving gestures. The best example in Before They Make Me Run is the first set of lyrics, “Worked in bars and sideshows, along the twilight zone, only a crowd can make you feel so alone.  And it really hit home”.   Without a cheat sheet, it would be impossible to interpret the “only a crowd can make you feel so alone” part.  But it works.

Before They Make Me Run is actually about the trouble Keith Richards was facing at that time in his life.  It’s the first time you can sense that he was listening to a wakeup call, and it was not long before he would kick his worst habit for good.  I later found out this song is also about the loss of Gram Parsons, one of his best friends, who died of an overdose several years earlier, reaffirming for me the wakeup-call feel of the music and lyrics. 

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One other thought on the Rolling Stones “Bad Boy” image:  Despite their lower-middle class English roots, the Rolling Stones are really in many ways a black band.  They evolved in London in a very unique way, connecting inextricably with Southern black music via underground album purchases and a small, tight-knit club scene (Peter’s interest in the music of Eminem, a white guy in a black rap world, reminds me of my interest in the Stones).  Later in their career, the Rolling Stones would spend a good deal of time in the Deep South, chumming with the local black folk and musicians.  Keith Richards also spent a number of years in Jamaica hanging with the Rastafarians.  It’s a fascinating history, but one that, at least early on, may have contributed to the controversy the Stones have often found themselves in.  Other bands like Aerosmith would later try to emulate that Rolling Stones image.  But none of them get my nod.  The Stones were originals.  As bands with bad reputations go, they are the only ones I let in. 

By the way, Peter and I are not the only ones in the family with a liking of bad-reputation musicians…. Mom has always been a defender of Dean Martin and Glen Campbell:  Not the cleanest cats on the block.  Some things are hard to explain.  I hope I’m doing some of it here.

Finally, I could not find the classic Stones visit to the Olympia Restaurant, but here is the sketch as performed by the SNL crew on another night that year: http://www.hulu.com/watch/3533/saturday-night-live-the-olympia-restaurant

Until next time

- Pete

(5th in a series of) Stepping Stones: "From Black and White to Color"

Song: She’s a Rainbow

Album: Her Satanic Majesties Request

Released: December, 1967

Franklin High School was an unusual place for a 5^th grader to get an education, but that was where I found myself in 1972.  The town was growing and with an (insightful) vision of further population growth, the then recently erected high school was, for the time being, built large enough to accommodate more than grades 9 thru 12 (a new vocational technical school would soon take the pressure off a bit).  And so, with the older high school redesigned to accommodate the junior high students (grades 7 and 8), the 5^th and 6^th graders were corralled together from a series of smaller, even older schools around town, and into the 2 wings on the northwest corner.

The age gap was not the only unusual aspect of being a 5^th grader at a high school.  The time period was a large factor as well, and 1972 USA was quite a time period.  Many 5^th graders, including myself, were transplants out of a private Catholic school system; having witnessed the permanent closure of St. Mary’s School the year before.  Making the transition from that insular world to what we were now experiencing was, to me, a bit of a culture shock.  Dress code, structure, and nuns were out.  Loose, multicolored clothing, long hair, and torn jeans were in, and this was much more so down the hallway.  Treks to the gym would bring us through this strange new world, but it was in the cafeteria where we would really get a good dose of it.

The cafeteria was where we had firsthand encounters with the juniors and seniors, who happened to share the same lunch break with us.   The 5^th graders were shoehorned into a few long tables near the kitchen, but it was not uncommon to wander over to the older kids tables when you felt welcomed.  That’s where the jukebox was, and the lingo, and the sense of rebellion.  That was where the occasional streaker would make his way through the crowd, chased by teachers who appeared to have little idea of what to do if they caught him.  That’s where a different form of music began seeping its way into my consciousness.  There were all sorts of things going on, and my eyes were opening to something very different from what I had taken in to that point in my life.  Not better, or worse, just different.  The variety itself was what made it feel better though. The sense that there was diversity around me:  Diversity of thought, and an apparently complete freedom of expression.

This was not my only indoctrination into that world, however.  There were other experiences closer to home, happening at the same time.

Unless I have a long-lost cousin in a commune somewhere in the desert, my extended family (on both sides) completely missed the scene of the late 60’s.  To have been there, I assume you would have to have been born between 1947 and 1952, and despite numbering over 100 people (aunts, uncles, cousins), no one fit the bill.  I realize this was also the case for the families of many friends, but with such a large extended family as mine, I see this fact as running a bit against the odds.

Of the two generations that nipped at the edges though, it was the younger one (mine) that ended up getting the closest whiff.  My five oldest cousins all happen to be ladies and having reached adolescence in the early 70’s, they were, like those 1972 FHS juniors and seniors, close enough to that psychedelic sun to feel its effects.  Several have retained that certain air about them, be it hair style, clothing, or mannerisms.  I was an interested observer. Their colorful ways are reflected in this week’s Stepping Stone, She’s a Rainbow ( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PcYNUX0g4e8&feature=related ), likely the best song penned at catching the lifestyle of a young lady from that time period. 

The years 1967, 68, and 69 were watershed years for rock music, but I believe it is ’67 that stands alone in terms of being at a crossroads.  Bands came into this year with one musical sound and came out of it with another, but 1967 itself was a year where it all blended together in one big psychedelic clump.  Bands were experimenting with each other’s sounds, and were not embarrassed to do so.  There was lots of overlap.  The Rolling Stones wrote songs that sounded like The Kinks, who sounded like The Who, who sounded like Pink Floyd, who sounded like The Beatles, who sounded like The Byrds. 

The Stones “Her Satanic Majesties Request” was but a shell of an imitation of The Beatles “Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band”, but it did have a few highlights.  She’s a Rainbow is a rare gem on this album, an album that only a small minority of fans would be able to name more than one or two songs from off the top of their head.  The best thing about She’s a Rainbow is Nicky Hopkins piano, with its 7 note intro and re-intro throughout, and with its timely pregnant pauses.  John Paul Jones plays the string arrangement.

Nicky Hopkins was one of many support musicians who performed on a second tier around the Stones.  Like electrons around a nucleus, the Stones kept many additional musicians close to the core throughout the years.  The list is extensive and includes Ian Stewart (keyboards:  The “6^th Stone”), Jack Nitzche (harpsichord on Play with Fire), Bobby Keys (saxophone), Jim Price (horns), Nicky Hopkins (keyboards), Darryl Jones (bass man who replaced Bill Wyman), Billy Preston (keyboards), Ollie E. Brown (percussion), Wayne Perkins (guitar), Merry Clayton (backing vocals on Gimme Shelter), Chuck Leavell (keyboards),  Sonny Rollins (sax) and many others.  Pete Townshend and David Bowie have also contributed to Stones songs over the years.

The Rolling Stones influences and support have always been well recognized by the band.  It’s a big reason why Bob Dylan has great respect for them (noting on his xm radio show that the Stones always went out of their way to recognize southern black bluesmen like Big Bill Broonzy, Bo Diddley, and Muddy Waters while on their path to fame), and it’s one reason I got more interested in the band early on, after pulling out the cover sleeve to “It’s Only Rock’n Roll” many years ago and seeing nothing but photos of the support musicians on the album, Ian Stewart, Nicky Hopkins, Billy Preston, Keith Harwood, and Andy Johns.

Have a colorful weekend everyone.  Let your hair down.

- Pete

“Have you seen her all in gold

  Like a queen in days of old

  She shoots colors all around

  Like the sunset going down

  Have you seen the lady fairer”

(4th in a series of) Stepping Stones: "The Compact Disc; The Vinyl Record; and The Cassette"

Song: Worried About You

Album: Tattoo You

Released: August, 1981

Compiling this week’s Stepping Stone turned out to be an assembly line of thought in and of itself.  In an attempt to bring it all together, I decided to divide these sub-stepping stones (grains of sand?) into three main sections:  The Compact Disc; The Vinyl Record; and The Cassette.  All refer to one album, the 1981 classic, Tattoo You.

The Compact Disc (aka: Yesterday’s Papers)

Before getting started on The Compact Disc, the fact of the matter is there could have been another section broken out here:  The iPod.  But this trademark term does not quite fit, and besides, it would be more in line with my brother, Pat’s story, not mine.  Let me explain. 

This past summer, Pat and his wife Ruth hosted one of their signature classy family gatherings (overcoming our attempt to turn it into a frat party).  Near the end of the affair, as the crowd was thinning, Pat walked up to me with a box full of compact discs.  A quick scan of the discs reconfirmed my long-standing observation that Pat has a very diverse taste in music (also affirmed in Pat’s choice of songs when taking the stage to perform karaoke, which as many of us know, he is very, very good at). 

I thought Pat was simply going to pour through his collection with me and that we would discuss music a bit, perhaps play a disc or two.  But then, in his usual generous way, Pat asked me to take whatever I wanted, seeing as for quite some time he had graduated on to the iPod and these discs were gathering dust in a dark corner of his cellar. 

Now many young (and older) folks wouldn’t be caught dead with such antiquated medium these days.  But me?  Well, I still can’t be reached by cell phone, and at last measurement my tv remains almost as deep as it is wide, so this rummaging through yesterday’s papers was something I had no problem with (though I did exercise restraint, realizing I also had a number of rarely played orphan discs at home).  And after poking through this box of misfit toys, I picked out a few which, over the ensuing weeks, would see the light of day once again.

Later that evening, heading home, the Joe Jackson and Clash discs (among others) temporarily made their way into my glove compartment.  There was one disc however, Tattoo You, that did not even make it out of Pat’s driveway before being popped into the player.  And, as I suspected, the fresh listening unleashed a series of fond memories and a few new insights.

My initial reflections were music related.  Tattoo You is an album of dichotomy:  It Rocks on side 1 and Rolls on side 2 (caution: the word “side”, as used here, is only relevant for those of us who remember vinyl).  When writing the Gem Videos several years back, I discussed the album Brothers in Arms by Dire Straits (# 62: “Style and Substance”), which also has contrasting music between the 2 sides.  Listening again to Tattoo You brought me back to this novel approach of organizing songs on an album. 

Though I had not listened to Tatoo You in some time, there are a few songs from it that have never escaped my consciousness:  Start Me Up and Waiting on a Friend (Gem # 41) are hits, and both are likely to be staples on classic rock radio for as long as these stations are around (and Start Me Up has been the opening song of Stones concerts for many-a tour).  To a lesser degree, the same can be said for Little T&A and Hang Fire.  The bulk of these songs are on side 1 and it was indeed refreshing to hear them all in their original context. 

Yet it was the opening salvo on side 2, the roll side, which really got my mind wandering.  Worried About You, this week’s Stepping Stone, opens up with the line “Sometimes I wonder why you do these things to me”:  A verse (and song) that, at face value, is a straight-up love-lost song, but has also been interpreted as the early stages of a deepening rift between Jagger and Richards.  In my head though, the word “Sometimes” skipped, or more accurately, was hyphenated to “S’times”.  It was automatic.  Every time I replayed, this skip would occur in my head.   Why?

Several weeks later, after my memory kicked back in, I went to my own cellar corner….which in turn brought more thoughts back into focus.

The Vinyl Record (aka: The Needle and the Damage Done)

I never really thought much about it before, but in hindsight, it really has been great to have friends who are also musicians.  Since sand-box days, I’ve had two musical savants to hang out with:  Pete and Phil.  Pete plays the drums, and Phil plays just about everything else.  They both have done their fair share of entertaining, be it in clubs, parades, weddings, or jams in a basement.   The moments I’ve been there to witness have always been uplifting.

There is at least one other perk to having musician buddies:   They know their stuff when it comes to stereo equipment, be it woofers, cartridges, amplifiers, or cable lines.  And though I have not taken advantage of this knowledge as often as I could have over the years, there was one key moment that comes to mind when that expertise came in very handy. 

That moment started coming back to me when I pulled my old Tattoo You album out of an old Garelick Farms milk crate in my cellar several months ago.  The skip drew me down, and the album brought me back; back to the moment in the winter of 1981 when I bought it.  It was the one album purchase that coincided with the investment of my first (and only) high-quality stereo system. 

Back in the day, a good stereo system was one of the most important pieces of property that a college student could own.  It was usually the first thing in the car on the way off to school, though I was lacking in this vital dorm room cornerstone during my freshman year in North Adams.  Thanks to a fair amount of savings that first summer home though (landscaping), I was soon able to do a little shopping.

I made my way over to (I believe) Tweeter etc. in Framingham one day during winter break to buy a stereo system.  But I was not going anywhere without enlisting Pete’s assistance.  The most important piece of equipment, in my mind, was the turntable.  On the way over, Pete instructed me on the differences between a direct-drive turntable and a belt-drive turntable, emphasizing that the direct-drive was more durable and, though a bit more expensive, definitely a better deal.

When we arrived at the stereo store, we were approached by a familiar face.  The sales clerk was a fellow Franklin High School student who had graduated several years ahead of us.  It became apparent to us pretty quickly, however, that he was not looking out for my better interests: He was looking to sell me the belt-drive turntable, and was making a darn good pitch.  Without Pete there, I could easily have had the wool pulled over my eyes.  The exchange went something like this:

Pete:  “Can you show us the direct-drive turntables?”

Fellow FHS graduate looking to scam me: “you don’t want that.  Let’s show you this one”

Pete:  “We want to look at the direct drive turntables”

Fellow FHS graduate looking to scam me: “this one over here is our best seller”

Pete: “The direct drive”

Fellow FHS graduate looking to scam me: “Did you know that belt drives ….”

Pete: “Direct drive”

On it went.  Now, one of Pete’s greatest traits is that he’s always been able to call someone’s bluff.  Over the next 10 minutes, this clerk tried all the tricks of the trade:  He would have put a used car salesman to shame.  Pete was buying none of it. 

We walked out of there with a great deal.

That turntable was one of the best purchases I ever made.  It was likely my own fault that my Tattoo You album skipped at the beginning Worried About You.  The slip of a needle out of your hand and down onto vinyl after the ease bar has been lowered, and the damage is done.  And yet, those skips on those albums had an endearing quality as well:  The skips personalized them.  And years later one of those skips would stir up a memory of a good friend, Pete, going to bat for me.

Looking at the album more:  The image-doctored tattooed faces of Jagger (front) and Richards (back) reminded me of another album from the same year: Face Dances by the Who, which also showcased image-doctored faces of band members.  What was with that? (By the way, has anyone ever seen the tattooed images of Watts, Wyman and Woods, which were not included with the album?  I remembered these images, and tried tracking them on Google to no avail).  It was nice to recall all of this, yet, there was something else stirring, something deeper.   I couldn’t quite grab it. 

Then it hit me earlier this week.  How could I forget?

The Cassette (aka: Magical Mystery Tour)

Start Me Up, the hit song off Tattoo You, starts with a bang.  Three chords.  Most of us know them by heart.  One week-long stretch I would hear that 3 chord sequence over and over again.

This section of the story is also founded on a generous spirit:  My good friend Bob, who invited Nancy, Mac and I, along with a number of other good friends, to his wedding in Holland in 1990.  Bob’s generosity spilled over that week, and was personified in a rental van he had secured for us.

Along with the main event, Nancy and I had gotten engaged at the beginning of that week, so there was much rejoicing with everyone.  Celebration was in the air, and a lot of it was done in that packed van.  Paris.  Brussels.  Breda.  Kinderdijk.  Amsterdam.  A magical mystery tour that packed a year’s worth of good times into a very short, intense period of time.

Speaking of packed, packing for this trip was a challenge.  There would be weeks more of touring Europe for Nancy and I after the wedding. We had to pack tight, and we put all of our stuff in two backpacks.  I had little room for accessories (including the ring), but I did have a side compartment with just enough room to slip in a cassette.  With probably very little thought, I squeezed in Tattoo You (likely the only tape in my car while packing) and pretty much forgot about it for the next few days as we made our way to Paris.

Does anyone remember the hilarious What is Love skits on SNL with Will Ferrell and Chris Kattan? ( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d0vM0VnpR_w ).  This is what comes to mind when I think of the music scene in Paris in the early 90’s.  It was tough to swallow for die-hard rockers like myself and Mac.  Bob, who lived there at the time (still does), had a local friend, Victor, who joined us on the magical mystery tour that week.  Victor was an American expatriate who had fully immersed himself in the Paris music scene.  This alone was not the problem.  The biggest issue was that Victor had a briefcase full of these tapes.  For several days we were stuck listening to that crap on our journey from one side of the city to the other. 

This could, and would not go on much longer.

I took over the wheel on our journey east.  The radio had little to offer, but Mac and I were intent on eliminating the offense.  We put up with the radio, trying to find anything that had a remote pulse to it.  Victor protested, but we were slowly gaining the upper hand.  Then I remembered the tape. 

Tattoo You was played repeatedly from that moment on.  It got to be very funny.  Victor would protest and hand us a tape.  We would pretend to put it in, but instead reinsert Tattoo You.  We would turn it way up as the three first chords of Start Me Up kicked in.  We did this over and over again.  The strange thing about it is that it never got old.  I think I speak for everyone who was in that van when I say this.   Even Victor was sold after a while.  This album grew on us.  It became the theme music of the week.  After a while, no other music existed. 

Worried About You is a fantastic song.  It was the only song that existed for me this week as I prepared this write up.  The Rolling Stones make a total goof of it in their official video release (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5MMgPbt9jhw), but even this can’t erase the quality of this song.  The Stones were indeed hitting a stretch of internal strife at this time, one that would carry on through the 80’s and beyond.  At this stage, though, the growing rift had little effect.  Mick Jagger is at his studio best.  He switches back and forth from falsetto to something entirely heavier as the song progresses.

One other thing I picked up on was how Jagger’s vocals seem to emerge right out of the guitar at the end of the guitar break (which was played, by the way, by session man Wayne Perkins).  In fact, it sounds like the vocals are part of the guitar break, close to the end, just faded way in the back ground.  Is it just my imagination or can you hear them on occasion if you turn the music way up?  They finally escape out at the end (“Yeah, I’m a hard working man.  When did I ever do wrong”)

Another great part is the jaunty bass guitar as the song hits the home stretch.

In closing a big thanks to Pat, Pete and Bob.  These are all giving stories.  What better way to connect the dots?

I’ve got blisters on my fingers. 

Until next week.

- Pete

(3rd in a series of) Stepping Stones: "Spotlight on Bill Wyman: The Power of a Passive Presence"

Song: Rocks Off

Album: Exile on Maine Street

Released: May, 1972

Spotlight on: Bill Wyman

As was the case for many who grew up in the 70’s, S.E. Hinton’s The Outsiders was required reading for me in middle school.  The story of Ponyboy, his brothers, and the rest of a gang of “greasers” caught my imagination.  On reflection, some of my interest was a bit hard to decipher.  For example, the similarity in the naming of two of the main characters, Dally and Darry, was clever to me, which I now believe had the effect of the storyline seeming more real.  I was also interested in the age range of the gang and how the oldest, toughest guy (Dally) was strongly (and ultimately tragically) affected by the youngest and most fragile (Johnny). 

Of most interest to me, however, was the variety in the gang’s personalities:  It seemed like every character trait I could think of was personified by one or another.   And each of these characters brought something powerful to the collective whole.  I eventually gained firsthand knowledge of this experience in the three motley crews of which I have since been a part of in Franklin, Ottawa, and North Adams (the short-lived “TH#1” crowd that I discussed several years ago in my Gem Videos).  

Group dynamics is also a reason why I’ve read a number of books about bands.  I find it fascinating how, not just skills, but personalities, can shape music.  As with The Outsiders, when I first read a book about the Stones back in high school, I was intrigued by the range of personalities.  If the band was just Mick Jagger types or Keith Richards types, I would not have picked up the book in the first place.  The reason:  The Stones would never have been as good as they turned out to be.  Other personalities were needed to produce such a depth and breadth of music.  When you add it all up, the Stones have had this range of personalities in spades.

Thinking back on my earliest reading on the Stones I recall there was one band member, Bill Wyman, who was seldom mentioned.  He was on all the album covers as an equal member, and in all the group photos, but there was ne’er any information about him.  Oh, there was the occasional off-handed remark or anecdote, but unlike the others, nothing sustained.  This only got me more interested in what Wyman brought to the table, and in hindsight, I believe this may have been what first got me interested in listening closer to the bass guitar.  The forgotten man and his forgotten instrument were not going to pass me by without further investigation.

Wyman’s role has since been better documented, but not much.  Bill Wyman was a quiet, passive, and to some degree indifferent presence in the Stones circles.  Yet, these traits have over time, been found to be a defining factor in the band’s success.  Passivity can have a powerful effect on others.  It pushes them to impress even more.

Bill Wyman is more of what you would call your traditional backbeat style bass player than, say, John Entwistle (then again, compared to the Ox, everyone is traditional).  But he does have his standout moments.  One that comes to mind is the “vrooming” bass lines at the end of Paint it Black.  Also, the rolling-down-a-hill bass lines at the end of 19^th Nervous Breakdown.  Yet another is this week’s Stepping Stone:  Rocks Off. 

Rocks Off opens the Rolling Stones greatest album with a bang.  My favorite parts of the song are the horn/bass refrains which happen ( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_lNP-x94-SE ) first at the 1:14 (horns) and 1:24 (bass) marks; then again at the 1:58 (horns) and 2:08 (bass) marks; and finally the lengthy refrain to close the song.  I always pictured this as a great conga line opportunity for the Stones on stage (Jagger and guitars in front; horns in the middle; and Wyman and his bass guitar bringing up the rear as the refrain closes with those 7 bass notes).  Open confession:  I’ve often performed air bass guitar in this imaginary conga line while cranking this tune on the stereo.

Other great features of Rocks Off include:

Ø  The opening lyrics where the protagonist switches from first to second person as he tries to interpret what others on the streets think of him (“What’s the matter with the boy”)

Ø  The echo-chamber bridge (“Feel so hypnotized.  Can’t describe the scene”)

Ø  The anticipation the band creates at the end of the bridge just before the line “The sunshine bores the daylights out of me” (2:34)

Ø  The inaudible background lyrics throughout

Ø   The great line “Kick me like you kicked before.  I can’t even feel the pain no more”.

In closing on this Bill Wyman appreciation, here is a great video of Bill being Mick (Jagger):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x0wSQv5MzRo

- Pete