When Richard Ashcroft wrote the Verve's Bitter Sweet Symphony in 1997 he knew he was skating on thin ice; using an uncleared string loop sampled from Andrew Loog Oldham's orchestral version of the Rolling Stones' The Last Time, Ashcroft ended up ceding all royalties from the song to Mick Jagger & Keith Richards thanks to a writ served on him by the Stones' former manager Allen Klein (Klein's company AABKVO Music owned the publishing rights). Ashcroft effectively waived goodbye to an estimated $5M. Ouch.
But unlike the George Harrison My Sweet Lord/He's So Fine saga, this chapter of Rock & Roll Plagiarism has a happy ending. In 2019 Ashcroft's management reached out to Jody Klein at ABKCO (his father had died in 2009) and appealed to his better nature to right this injustice. Klein in turn contacted Mick 'n' Keef who magnanimously relinquished their song writing credits with immediate effect. Relations had warmed somewhat the previous year when the Stones had asked Ashcroft to open for them on their latest world jaunt. Ashcroft then finally started to see the royalties for what is considered by many to be one of the defining songs of the late 20th. century.
The Andrew Oldham Orchestra - The Last Time (From The Rolling Stones Songbook) (1966)
Interestingly, almost 50 years later, Andrew Oldham revisited the scene of the crime releasing The Rolling Stones Songbook and Friends Volume 2 and only bloody covered Ashcroft's tour de force. Bittersweet, indeed.
The Andrew Oldham Orchestra - Bitter Sweet Symphony (2014)
What do we know about Lady Jane Grey? Quite a lot actually. She was the great-granddaughter of Henry Vll (and a grand-niece of Henry Vlll). She was highly educated and spoke Latin and Greek from an early age. After the death of Edward Vl she was proclaimed Queen of England on 10 July 1553. It didn't last; on July 19 (just nine days later, before she was even coronated) she was usurped by Mary l, and a month later was executed for treason aged just 16.
Jagger & Richards wrote a song about her. It was lifted as a single from the Stones' Aftermath album; Brian Jones, fittingly, plays the dulcimer.
Sydney Sweeney is an accomplished American actress. Her multifarious, not to mention award winning, work spanning film and TV include Once Upon a Time in Hollywood & The Handmaid's Tale. She's also an honorary Rolling Stone; you guessed it, she was in that video. Los Angeles motorists on the road that day still dine out on her iconic drive down Sunset Boulevard.
The Stones (what's left of 'em) have released a new single. Everyone's getting into a bit of a lather about it. Maybe cos it's 60 years since their first 45 hit the shops.
What's it called? Angry.
When's it out? Now.
Is it any good? (Shrugs) S'alright. 7/10; the video's better.
Alright then, the video? A solid 9. See for yerself.
Apparently, when Angus Young of AC/DC heard Sad Café's My Oh My he said it was the best record the Stones had ever made. I know what he means; I came to it late (and by late I mean within the last few weeks) and was convinced - when I first heard the vocals kick in - it was Karl Wallinger and World Party. And anyone who knows Wallinger will attest that his Goodbye Jumbo album contains (at least) three Stones cast-offs. File under 'what goes around comes around'. Judge for yerself.
I've noticed that one or two of my fellow bloggers are still posting their Monday Long Songs; I can't remember the last time I chipped in, so will make amends today. I recently discovered some tasty outtakes from the Stones' Some Girls album and was immediately taken with an 11+ minute version of Miss You. So, it being Monday...
In June 1972 the Rolling Stones embarked on a sellout stadium tour of the United Stares. Unsurprisingly, the tour was not without its problems.
No official album or film of the two month trek exists, though many bootlegs are in circulation, as is the infamous Cocksucker Blues movie which depicts the underbelly of life on the road with the greatest rock and roll band in the world tm.
Renowned photographer Jim Marshall captured many images of the band around this time; not least this stunning shot of Mick seemingly giving priceless advertising for a south London launderette.
Stevie Wonder was the support on the tour and he and his band would often come out at the end for a joint encore.
Rolling Stones & Stevie Wonder - Uptight/Satisfaction (1972)
Being neither young nor hip, I don't generally do shout-outs. If I mention you on my blog there's every chance you either sent me a telegram or maybe there was an urgent SOS on Radio 4 appealing for my whereabouts. That said, this brace of tunes is dedicated to George. George, I know, enjoys flutes and, indeed, flautistry. I can get on board with that - I too have a penchant for flute players/flautists/flutists/fluters and even flutenists. One of my favouritist flutenists is Herbie Mann. If I had to condense Herbie Mann into a five word sentence I think I'd say: "He wrote Comin' Home Baby." Anyway, he's Flautist 2/2. Flautist 1/2 is unknown; that is to say he/she is nothing but a borrowed sample; from where I know not. But it's a four second loop* that runs through one of my Saturday night kitchen floor fillers like a stick of rock.
Rinôçérôse - It's Time to Go Now (2002)
And here is the artist formerly known as Herbert J Solomon (1930-2003). I have many albums by this fella and never tire of listening to him. Mann straddled so many genres of music I'm almost tempted to use the word groundbreaking when I talk about him; almost, but not quite - what kind of blog do you think this is for heaven's sake? Suffice it to say that he out-Stoned the Stones with his 1974 version of Bitch and even got a real life Rolling Stone* to play guitar on it.
Herbie Mann - Memphis Underground (1968)
* A flute loop, if you will.
** Recorded in '73, Mick Taylor was still with the firm at the time.
Made in the Shade was one of the Rolling Stones' first attempts at putting out a Best Of; though in all honesty it was more of a So Far - the Stones in a holding pattern; condensing Sticky Fingers, Exile on Main St., Goats Head Soup and It's Only Rock 'n' Roll, it drew a line under the Mick Taylor era, giving the band time to woo his replacement, Ronnie Wood. Taylor, as I've said here numerous times, was way too good for Mick and Keith. And, anyway, leaving the band probably saved his life: he wasn't as tough as Keef, yet still tried to take as many illegal substances as his indestructible employer.
The origin of the album's artwork has always ben shrouded in mystery. However, the cover of the Laid in the Shade bootleg kinda gives the game away.
"I believe in seeds; I believe in water; I believe in ideas"
So said Mick Jones in 'A National Anthem' - a song he and Tony James wrote together for their (truly wonderful) band Carbon Silicon who were knocking around just after the turn of the millennium.
Some bright spark, it may have been Alan McGee, said, when trying to describe them: "Imagine the Rolling Stones jamming with a laptop." He wasn't far wrong. This version, which leans heavily on Marvin Gaye's Heard it Thru the Grapevine, is, I think, far superior to the heavily sanitised recording that appeared much later on their 2007 release The Last Post (by which time, possibly fearing a plagiarism lawsuit, they'd dropped the Grapevine motif).
Jean-Baptiste Frédéric Isidor Thielemans - known simply as Toots Thielemans - was a musician's musician. A consummate composer and multi-instrumentalist - guitar, harmonica, and whistling (yes, whistling) - Belgian born Thielemans came up through the ranks as a sideman to the likes of Benny Goodman and George Shering in the late '40s; he would later front combos with many A-List jazzers including Oscar Peterson, Quincy Jones, Dizzy Gillespie and Pat Metheny. But he was so much more than a jazz man: ever wondered who played the harp solo in Midnight Cowboy? Yep, Toots. The Sesame Street theme? Ditto. Talk about an
eclectic resumé.
But today I want to play you something he wrote and recorded in 1957. It's a tune called Soul Station and is taken from his album Man Bites Harmonica. It predates English R&B by half a decade or more, but I'm guessing at least one future Rolling Stone would have been listening to this. Spot the intro.
When you listen to Keith Richards' 1988 demo of Almost Hear You Sigh, you can see why he was holding back from putting it on his solo album, Talk is Cheap. It was good, but it wasn't great. It had a groove, but it wasn't groovin'.
It needed Mick, for sure: Jagger would add his vocals and blag a co-write. But, more importantly, it needed Charlie's drums; Mick and Keith don't make the Stones. Mick + Keith + Charlie = the Stones. Elementary.
Sans Charlie (1988)
Avec Charlie* (1990)
Live (1990) Criminally, they only ever played it live a handful of times (on the Steel Wheels tour in 1990). It was then put away in a bottom drawer where it resides to this day.
* Also contains a most exquisite Spanish acoustic guitar solo from Keith.
Two songs below that share the same title. Both make me happy. One deliriously so. I'll let you guess which. And it's all in the brain. Music lights up our limbic system and quite literally turns us on. It's official. But I'm just a mere layman, I won't insult your intelligence with my mumbo jumbo - read all about it from people who know their shit. Ok this might not be Stephen Fry, probably more Brian Cox, but you get the drift. Now, those two songs:
I'm no apologist for the Rolling Stones; they don't need me to fight their corner. That's what they pay their management for. And I'm sure the Stones' global fanbase is more than capable of fighting off any naysayers. However, I did see recently that some nitwit had written: 'The Rolling Stones haven't released anything worthwhile since 1972.'
So Angie, Heartbreaker, It's Only Rock'n' Roll, Fool to Cry & Start Me Up are not worthy? Or Miss You?
I played my stripped down version of Jumpin' Jack Flash on Wednesday and it went down really well. That's prompted me to record it properly. As soon as it's done I'll put a link up.
I'm currently reading Life - Keith Richards' memoirs. Honest (brutally so, in places), affectionate, and very entertaining. The story of how the Stones came to be is told through a post-war prism so very English; how Richards describes Dartford, and later London, is as gritty as it comes; the total antithesis of Austin Powers' cut and paste psychedelic London. But, at the same time, every bit as funny.
I really wanted to know how he and Jagger wrote - who did the heavy lifting, who came up with the choruses, where the riffs (those riffs!) came from etc. And Richards' doesn't disappoint. He lifts the lid (although his recall may not be 20/20) on the division of labour and how the credits should be divvied up.
Here's Richards talking about Jumpin' Jack Flash: "The lyrics came from a grey dawn at Redlands [Richards' stately pile in Sussex]. Mick and I had been up all night, it was raining outside, and there was the sound of these boots outside the window, clump clump clump, belonging to my gardener, Jack Dyer. It woke Mick up. He said 'What's that?', I said 'Oh, that's Jack. That's jumping Jack.' I started to work around the phrase on the guitar, which was in open tuning, singing the phrase 'Jumping Jack'. Mick said 'Flash' and suddenly we had this phrase with a great rhythm and ring to it."
Since reading that I've stripped the song right back, slowed it down and turned into something a lot folkier. Keef, and Mick for that matter, would probably have something to say about it. However, the chances of them ever hearing my version are pretty remote, wouldn't you say? Though I will put it up when I've recorded it.
In the meantime, Richards has plenty to say (as you can imagine) on a whole host of topics. Here are five of my favourite Keef Quotes:
*"I don't have a problem with drugs. I have a problem with the Police."
* "The only thing Mick and I disagree about is the band, the music and what we do."
* "I'm Sagittarius - half-man, half-horse. With a licence to shit in the street."
* "You can't accuse me of anything I haven't already confessed to."
* "I'm all for a quiet life, I just didn't get one."
And here is Jumpin' Jack Flash. As honest as he is, most of the time, Richards never credited Bill Wyman for the amazing bass line which tracks the song throughout. And the video, rather than the usual promo film, I've chosen this montage which has some terrific candid photos of Richards and his band mates.
I was only saying the other day how I'm not the world's most prolific writer; but at least I don't have to write each and every one of my posts in longhand, and on goatskin parchment. I'd be lucky if I turned out two a year, let alone two a week.
However, I'm sure if I did find myself in such a predicament I too would be telling anyone prepared to listen: 'I got us into this mess, and I'll get us out of it.'
It will probably come as no surprise that my knowledge of goatskin is a little vague. I am, however, a little more knowledgeable about Goats Head Soup. Thanks to the Glimmer Twins I have never been able to erase the image of this Jamaican dish (the eyeballs really are a delicacy, apparently) from my memory bank.
And while we're on the subject of disturbing images the Rolling Stones were responsible for subjecting me and other impressionable youths in the early seventies to: one of the black and white photographs on the 'Exile on Main St.' sleeve haunts me to this day:
Charlie Three Balls - with a trio of pool balls in his mouth (Why? How?) - is another image I've been carrying around in my head for far too long.
Steve's coming up on Friday for the weekend. It's been a while since we've seen each other, but we'll pick up where we left off - nothing's so sure. A lot of tunes to listen to. A lot of beer that'll need drinking. And we'll have a lot to talk about - we always do. All the usual stuff; there may even be some new items on the agenda. You know, the sort of things that creep into conversation in the wee small hours.
When George Harrison quoted the Taxman: 'there's one for you, nineteen for me' he kiddeth not. In 1966 the top rate of income tax was 83% on earned income and an eye watering 98% on unearned income.
Five years later and Mick Jagger and Keith Richards could stand it no more: in 1971, and facing a massive bill from what we now know as HMRC, they buggered off to France and became rock and roll's first tax exiles. But not before playing a short UK tour; comprising mostly small halls and colleges it was their first proper tour in years. Jagger had yet to become a parody of himself and in Mick Taylor they'd got the best guitarist the band had ever hired.
The penultimate date of the tour, March 13, was Leeds University. It was recorded by the BBC for posterity. And the band had never sounded better.
Ladies and Gentlemen, The Rolling Stones.
