The Stones’ first American television appearances slyly subverted these tidy notions. The bands all wore jackets and ties on stage, and though everybody’s hair was a little long, no one-not even, at this point, John Lennon-was looking for trouble. Yet for all the excitement, it was an extremely safe incursion. The Beatles had already placed eight songs in the Top 10, and the Dave Clark Five, the Searchers and a few others had all hit the Top 20. The British Invasion was about six months old when the Rolling Stones hit America in June 1964. As good as the best of the post-60’s Stones would be, if this ABKCO catalog was all there ever was, it would still be rock ‘n’ roll’s defining legacy. Klein-and a month spent listening to these sonically superior CD’s reminded me of what an incredible body of work the Stones laid down in their first seven years as a band. Those albums were recently remastered and reissued by ABKCO Music-the label owned by the band’s former manager, Allen B. versions of some releases-that represent the band’s output between 19.
Of course, there would be studio outtakes and demos to be released down the line, but the core of the Stones aural legacy would be limited to the 22 records-that’s counting greatest-hits compilations as well as both the U.S. If the Rolling Stones had ceased to exist in 1969, the last song on their last studio album would have been “You Can’t Always Get What You Want.” “Brown Sugar” and “Wild Horses” would have been released posthumously. Richards has been making a point of calling Dogshit in the Doorway whenever the media is listening. Jagger’s most recent onanistic effort, Goddess in the Doorway -the album that Mr. And Rolling Stone editor Jann Wenner would never have given five stars to his buddy Mr.
“Starfucker”) in concert while straddling that ridiculous inflatable phallus, or run around onstage in jogging clothes, or released any of those horrible solo albums. He never would have sung “Star Star” (a.k.a. His last relationship would have been with Marianne Faithfull. Bernard, or married a Nicaraguan socialite or a horse-faced Texan model. Mick Taylor and Bill Wyman wouldn’t have left the band, and goofy Ron Wood would never have had the opportunity to join.Īs for Mick Jagger, well, he would have never grown the jowls of a St. Keith Richards wouldn’t have developed the grizzled visage of a Navajo shaman, Charlie Watts wouldn’t have begun to bald like a Franciscan friar, and neither of them would have gotten strung out on smack. The world would never have heard “It’s Only Rock & Roll,” “Memory Motel,” “Start Me Up” or “Saint of Me,” or seen the videos for “Waiting on a Friend” or “Love Is Strong.” What if the band had never made it home from Altamont? There’d be no Sticky Fingers, no Exile on Main Street, no Some Girls.
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