The Cavern
Rock & Words
FLOWERS (The Rolling Stones, 1967)
Artist: The Rolling Stones (A)
Recording Dates: Dec ’65 – Dec ‘66
Release Date: June 27th, 1967. UK
Record Label: London / ABKCO
Producer: Andrew Loog Oldham
Rating: 9
Era: Psychedelia (1966-1969)
Subgenre: Psychedelia
Best Song: Ruby Tuesday, again.
Tracklist: 1) Ruby Tuesday; 2) Have You Seen Your Mother Baby Standing In The Shadow; 3) Let's Spend The Night Together; 4) Lady Jane; 5) Out Of Time; 6) My Girl; 7) Backstreet Girl; 8) Please Go Home; 9) Mother's Little Helper; 10) Take It Or Leave It; 11) Ride On Baby; 12) Sittin' On A Fence.
Phew! Flowers is the last of the Stones' "Bastard Albums," at least during the 60s, since Metamorphosis would still be released in the 70s, as Allen Klein's final act of extortion. It's a very good album, with the drawback that it's another deceptive compilation, mixing singles and album tracks that were missing from various British and American editions of the two previous LPs, Aftermath and Between the Buttons. Therefore, it's not surprising that many of the songs sound familiar by now, since, when you think about it, Flowers is a kind of Greatest Hits album covering the Stones' middle period in the 60s.
Frankly, I considered skipping it, given that it's a somewhat sloppy album and I've already reviewed most of the songs, but several interesting details on this record prevented me from going straight to Satanic Majesties. First, there are a few songs we haven't reviewed that are quite good, and it would be unfair to leave them out. Second, the entire backdrop of this album is fascinating, perhaps the most dramatic and entertaining part of the Stones' history, and one that most people are unaware of. It's not that I despise it musically, but for the songs I've already reviewed, I'll simply add the comments from the albums where I initially analyzed them, to avoid repetition, adding new material only for the tracks that haven't been released on LP.
The most interesting thing about the album, I insist, is its background. The Stones didn't even want to release it because Between the Buttons had worked out so well for them, keeping them at the forefront of British rock, almost on par with the Beatles in terms of fame, and they really didn't have any new material to consider for a studio album. But it was mid-1967, the height of the Summer of Love, and the Stones had to release something to stay on top, and secondly, to settle a score with Andrew Loog Oldham. It turns out that since Aftermath, they were seriously unhappy with him over the album's release, which was originally going to be a much more ambitious project aesthetically. Instead of Aftermath, it was going to be called "Could You Walk on the Water?", and it included a double album cover with the Stones walking on a Californian lake. Decca flatly rejected the cover, deeming it a messianic parody. Oldham backed the record company, and the concept (using a photo from the same session, but taken by the water) ended up on the compilation album "Big Hits (High Tide & Green Grass)." The rift with their manager became insurmountable when, in early 1967, for the TV promotional appearances of *Between the Buttons*, the producers of *The Ed Sullivan Show* pressured them to change the lyrics of "Let's Spend the Night Together" for a nationally televised live performance. Andrew didn't put up much resistance, and the Rolling Stones ended up singing "Let's Spend Some Time Together," which infuriated Mick. Jagger would wrest complete control from Oldham, whose contract, signed in 1963, was about to expire. However, contractually, they had to release one more album, which is why they allowed him to tamper with old tapes for this compilation. Ultimately, it would be the last time. From Their Satanic Majesties Request onward, the Stones took complete creative control over their albums, though at a financial cost, as their new manager, Allen Klein, squeezed them dry. Since Oldham didn't have enough material for a new album and the band had turned against him, he used "Ruby Tuesday," "Let's Spend the Night Together" from Between the Buttons (which weren't released on the UK edition), "Lady Jane," a shortened version of "Out of Time," "Mother's Little Helper" (which wasn't released on the US edition), and "Take It or Leave It" from Aftermath, as well as "Have You Seen Your Mother Baby Standing in the Shadow," which was released as a single alongside that album. The remaining tracks, of inferior quality, were outtakes from the sessions for the two albums: "My Girl," "Ride On," "Sittin' On a Fence" from Aftermath, and "Backstreet Girl" from Buttons.
Now, what I wanted to tell you isn't this. What happened between the release of Buttons and Flowers was a chain of fateful events that would lead to the biggest drug raid of the 60s against a rock band, and would terribly affect the Stones in the medium term, and I don't think you'll find this anywhere else online. According to Stephen Davis, it all started in January when some undercover reporters went into a London club hunting for some celebrity scandal. They found a guy half-asleep on acid, struck up a conversation with him, offered him Benzedrine tablets, but he politely declined, saying he was in the middle of an LSD trip. Then he spilled the beans and introduced himself as "The leader of the Rolling Stones." It wasn't Mick, but Brian, but the reporters didn't recognize him and continued the conversation, during which the blond guitarist loosened his tongue a little too much. Days later, the Stones appeared on a TV show with other musicians, but still angry about the Ed Sullivan Show incident, they refused to join the other artists for the show's traditional closing remarks. This gesture, which they considered insignificant, provoked an attack from the producers and the network, who felt offended and began to portray the Stones as a threat. Songs like "Mother's Little Helper," "Have You Seen Your Mother Baby Standing in the Shadow," "Yesterday Papers," "Stupid Girl," "Under My Thumb," and "Out of Time" were deemed misogynistic or an attack on traditional British values, and the campaign against the Stones spread far beyond the television network.
On Sunday, February 5th, Mick was reading the News of the World when he came across an article claiming that Mick Jagger had admitted to taking LSD at the Moody Blues' house. The article, presented as an informal interview, included revelations supposedly detailing his first acid trip on tour with Bo Diddley and admitting to taking Benzedrine to keep up with the demands of touring. Mick was nearly stunned. At that point, Jagger was very careful and discreet about his image and had never tried hard drugs, let alone LSD; ironically, when it came to drugs, he was the most innocent of the Stones! Marianne Faithfull reassured him, saying it was probably Brian and that everything would be alright if he didn't make a bigger deal out of it. That afternoon, Mick held a press conference denying the News of the World article, and two days later he filed a defamation lawsuit. So, he did make a big deal out of it. That was the first mistake, as the publisher was determined to catch him red-handed and prove his article was true at all costs. Days later, Marianne appeared on a BBC debate program and put her foot in it by arguing that marijuana and acid were creative gateways to perception, and that LSD would become as important as Christianity (take that, Lennon!). From then on, she was called Marijuana Faithful, but Mick wasn't amused.
Mick's second mistake was taking it personally and not watching his back. He was clean and had nothing to hide, and the campaign was targeting him, not Keith and Brian, who were indeed spending their time tripping on acid. So he decided to experience this LSD thing firsthand, and he wanted to do it big. He spent a week organizing a party at Keith's country house, where he would try the famous LSD. At the beginning of the week, he went to the Beatles' recording studio, where they were recording "A Day in the Life," which resonated with him because it was about his friend Tara Browne. He was impressed with what he heard, and George invited him to sing on a song they would perform live on the first worldwide satellite broadcast, a song called "All You Need Is Love," on which Jagger provided backing vocals. In gratitude, he invited George and his wife Patti to the party at Richards' house in Redlands. Meanwhile, the News of the World reported receiving information from an informant that the Stones had taken illegal drugs at a party the previous weekend, and they in turn informed Scotland Yard. One night, Mick received a call, supposedly from a telephone company employee who was a Stones fan, warning him that his phone was being tapped.
So, that weekend, they all went to Redlands for Mick Jagger's lysergic initiation. Mick and Marianne, Keith, George and Patti Harrison, Robert Fraser, Chris Gibbs, Michael Cooper, and the American LSD dealer David Schneiderman. On Saturday afternoon, they smoked marijuana and played acoustic guitars around the fireplace. Someone spotted a stranger in the distance, but they assumed it was just a curious fan. On Sunday morning, Schneiderman gave them their LSD doses, and they went for a walk as the effects of the trip began. They returned in the afternoon, seeing rainbows and lightbulbs in the sky adorned with diamonds. They relaxed in the living room, and someone put on Dylan's Blonde on Blonde, which I don't know if it's legendary, but it would have been a perfect soundtrack to what followed.
George and Patti left shortly after dusk. Keith is still convinced that if Harrison had stayed, none of this would have happened. The Beatles were untouchable, at least in England, more famous than Jesus. But the police waited until George was gone, and moments later, Detective Chief Inspector Gordon Dinley knocked rudely on the door. Keith opened it, and the inspector showed him a search warrant. Dylan was singing, “The ghost of electricity hooooooooowls in the bones of her face…” A squad of police entered the house and searched everything while “Visions of Johanna” played. Mick was stunned. It was his first acid trip, and everything had been wonderful, and now this. Marianne had just gotten out of the bath, and since she hadn't brought any change, she wrapped a blanket around herself. When an agent was about to search her, she deliberately let the bedspread fall, revealing her spectacular body, particularly her impressive breasts, while Dylan aptly sang, “Jewels and binoculars hang from the head of the mule, but these visions of Johanna… make it all seem too cruel…”. When they were about to search the acid king's suitcase, he narrowly escaped by claiming it contained very important photographic material and that opening it would completely ruin it. Miraculously, they believed him, since that suitcase held enough acid to blow up all of San Francisco. But even so, they found enough LSD, Benzedrine, and marijuana in the house to file charges, in addition to some doses of Robert Fraser's heroin. They also found a large dose of stimulants in Mick's jacket, which Marianne had left behind and forgotten months before. Mick took the blame, although he said they had been prescribed to him. They weren't arrested, but they were warned that the case was just beginning and that jail was a possibility. As the police left, Dylan sang “Rainy Day Woman #12 & 35”: “Everybody must get stoooooooooned!!” Isn’t that great? At that moment, Mick’s chances of winning the defamation lawsuit went down the drain. Brian called saying he was coming to Redlands. Keith told him to get lost and not to come near, vaguely explaining the situation.
The scandal was enormous. Some police officers gave their exaggerated version of the raid, and the News of the World rushed to publish its quasi-orchid version. After the lab tests, Mick was charged with illegal stimulants, Fraser with heroin, and Keith with owning the property. They paid a hefty sum to get rid of the evidence, but in the end, their "contact" let them down, even though he kept the bribe, and the first trial date was set for June. Their lawyer advised them to keep a low profile and stop being provocative, and if possible, disappear for a while. As a result, the nascent sessions for Satanic were postponed, they reluctantly finished the remaining dates of the March tour, and Oldham was forced to release this material. They also stopped touring for a long time, until 1969. Although they were accused of copying the Beatles, it was clear that the reasons were entirely different.
The story doesn't end there. During their break, Keith, Mick, and Brian, each with their respective muses, went to Morocco, and it was there that Anita Pallenberg treacherously betrayed Brian with Keith, returning from the trip devastated. He never recovered, and this incident indirectly triggered Jones's death in '69. But I'll get to the details of this trip in my review of Satanic. Let's get to the album!
The album kicks off brilliantly with another gem from the Stones' discography. Let me be clear: "Ruby Tuesday" is the best ballad they ever recorded, originally included on the US edition of Between the Buttons, but never released in England. The song's baroque beauty, the exquisite delicacy with which the instruments weave together, and the gorgeous melody all demonstrate that the Stones were becoming masters of pop. Not even Brian Wilson and his Beach Boys have a gem that comes close: catchy, immaculate, breathtaking, and giving the impression that rock has leapt into the realm of art. It's that simple. Furthermore, the lyrics are, in my opinion, the most beautiful, profound, and philosophical in their vast catalog. A blend of Keith's loving reverence for his wife and a requiem for his late friend Tara Browne yields some of the most striking verses: “Don't question why she needs to be so free, She'll tell you it's the only way to be” or “There's no time to lose, I heard her say, Catch your dreams before they slip away.” In fact, the entire lyric is exquisite, brimming with symbolism and poetry that reveals their admiration for Dylan. This is one of the few times the Stones achieve this lyrical level, approaching the heights of their mentor. Musically, it's considerably simpler than it seems, with Brian playing an almost mythical, medieval flute, imbued with infinite sadness and owl-like tones. Truly remarkable considering he only learned to play it a couple of days prior and that it's what truly gives the song its character. Wyman plays double bass after the failed attempt to add cellos on their own. Keith plays piano. Charly enters with drum rolls and rhythm only in the choruses, leaving the verses drum-free. And Mick sings, with the rest of the band (except Bill) providing backing vocals. According to Marianne Faithfull, it was Brian who came up with the basic structure of the song, although he was never credited as the writer. Mick insists that he wrote all the lyrics, although most accounts contradict this. In any case, we are dealing with one of the masterpieces of rock, the first of the many pieces that make up the pantheon of that 1967 era. No Stones ballad, not even "Angie," "Beast of Burden," or "Wild Horses," would ever again reach this level of perfection.
“Have You Seen Your Mother Baby Standing in the Shadow”, which had already been released as a single in 1966, around the time of Aftermath, was the last of that series of “politically incorrect” songs in which the Stones fiercely attacked certain social roles, particularly the maternal role as a pillar of British society. The song opens with a hallucinatory fuzz effect on the guitar, to which a horn riff is added to launch the group into a rhythm with unprecedented energy. Mick Jagger delivers a great vocal performance, with catchy melodies in the choruses and tempo changes. The bridges pause at times, and at the one-minute mark, Jagger is left practically alone with a subtle guitar strum; the instruments gradually join in for a crescendo that explodes into a new chorus. Pure energy from beginning to end, filled with a psychedelic aura that could have fit perfectly on Satanic Majesties Request. The lyrics didn't really have a particular purpose other than to sound like pure sedition and cause a scandal, which they certainly did. One of the gems that had been released as a single and for which the LP is worthwhile, since it is undoubtedly the best of those not included on previous albums.
The album continues with “Let's Spend The Night Together”, also from the American Buttons album and omitted from the British edition, featuring an atypical lineup: a spectacular Jack Nietzsche on piano, Brian Jones on the ethereal keyboards that glue the whole song together, Keith on guitars and the tremendous bass line, perhaps the coolest in the entire Stones discography, Charly on drums with that splendid beat and gold-medal-worthy fills, Mick on vocals, and Keith on backing vocals. I think this is the first of many tracks where Bill Wyman is conspicuously absent. This is a great song. I don't know why, but I always thought it was a Keith song, one that describes his personality and bears his signature despite not having a prominent guitar part; and indeed, I recently confirmed that almost the entire song was written by Richards. The song is perfect, a furious rocker with a bass line jumping around like nothing heard before, a kind of Stones "Twist & Shout" for its fresh and fun vibe, and for the dialogue between the lead vocals screaming and the backing vocals responding. It also shows a certain Pet Sounds influence in the bridge at 1:40 and in the complex harmonic arrangement of vocals, in which Jagger and Keith themselves recorded several tracks to answer the lead vocals, which sound relentless, violent, with an energy unprecedented even for Jagger, who had begun a bit of a feud with Roger Daltrey. The difference is that this is an original song by the band, not a cover like "Twist & Shout." And it's much more mature; Brian's organ playing is amazing and adds certain psychedelic nuances. Keith adds a few small guitar flourishes, like at 2:35, which also fit perfectly. In short, this is a song that required an impressive collaborative effort, a groundbreaking work for the exotic and colorful year of 1967, reflecting a loss of the "innocence" of the early 60s. In fact, the lyrics are quite explicit, an ode to oral sex in which one can't help but imagine the tongue supposedly designed by Warhol. The lyrics themselves caused censorship in the USA, although this didn't prevent the single, with "Ruby Tuesday" on the B-side, from reaching number one. It's an example of a pop song perfected, with precise vocal harmonies and a masterful build-up of tension, where not a single note is superfluous or out of place. A step forward for the Rolling Stones.
Next up is “Lady Jane” from Aftermath. The Stones had never done anything so tender and delicate. Well, maybe “As Tears Go By,” but this time they gave it a Renaissance madrigal feel, transporting you to the Tudor era with Jack Nietzsche’s harpsichord and Brian’s dulcimer. At 1:40, they both perform a kind of double solo that really shines. The arpeggiated intro is sweet and dreamy, and I think overall, the song’s atmosphere is perfect. In mid-1966, it feels perfect for ushering in the beginning of the psychedelic era; and that kind of sweet haze it carries is clearly due to its dedication to marijuana (Lady Jane) and amphetamines (Lady Ann), although Mick justified it by saying he was inspired by Henry VIII’s letters to Lady Jane Seymour. The Stones were the first to sing an ode to drugs, just before Dylan was more direct in his "Rainy Day Women #12 & 35" ("Everybody must get stoned!"). Mick also sounds charming, with a great and convincing vocal melody, paying homage to his "ladies," which were the strongest drugs Mick dared to use at the time. A great song, it sounds like something out of a music box, and definitely nothing like anything the Stones had released up to that point, but it's a good sign of the experimentation they were doing, which they would take to the extreme shortly afterward on Satanic.
Then there's "Out Of Time", another massive track (literally and figuratively), also from Aftermath. This is a pop gem, a direct and hard-hitting blast aimed at Chrissie Shrimpton, with the delightful counterpoint of marimba and guitar. The marimba line sounds timid at first, while the bass establishes a characteristic rhythm, "Tum, tum-tum, Tum tum-tum," and then makes a notable appearance in the choruses. Mick delivers another vocal treat, perhaps due to the sincerity with which he sings, with well-constructed and incredibly catchy melodic lines, very much in the Motown Soul style. He doesn't hold back when telling his girlfriend off: "You're obsolete, my baby, my poor old-fashioned baby, I said baby, baby, baby, you're out of time." The band builds gradually to create a perfect gem: first the marimbas, then the acoustic strumming, the bass lines after each chorus, Ian's piano, Nietzsche's organ, and Keith's occasional acoustic guitar solos. They're all catchy, but perhaps the most exquisite are the backing vocals the band provides just before the choruses: "Mbap-mbap, Mbap-mbap." You'll find yourself humming the chorus for weeks. For the Flowers Festival, they cut it down to 3 minutes from the original '66 version, and it lost some of its charm, but it's still worth it.
Next up is “My Girl”, originally by Smokey Robinson, with the definitive version by the Temptations. I have mixed feelings about this one. I love the song, but this Stones version doesn't suit them at all. That innocent aura doesn't fit them at all, and the corny string arrangement is even worse. I get the impression they were jamming on it during the Aftermath sessions, informally, and someone secretly recorded them, and then Oldham did his thing with the disastrous production. Don't get me wrong, I love the song, but the Temptations' version is unbeatable, and the closest is perhaps The Mamas & The Papas', also from '67. Maybe it would have been better two or three albums earlier, but here it sounds completely out of place, and the Rolling Stones were never suited to these kinds of innocent songs.
“Backstreet Girl” is a madrigal-style ballad with a Renaissance feel, which, compared to “Lady Jane,” seems completely unnecessary, and it's understandable why it was left off Aftermath. The novelty is that Brian found an accordion lying around and thought, “Why not!” It's very slow, with no variation, a bland melody, and the most redeeming feature is the way Brian managed to coax sounds from instruments he was completely unfamiliar with.
We continue with “Please Go Home”, which sounds like a Bo Diddley cover due to its prominent drumming. Recorded in 1966, it also feels dated and would be more fitting on an album from the Stones' earlier period. Furthermore, the echo effects they add to Mick's vocals after the choruses sound awful. It feels very dated and clashes with the effervescence of the Summer of Love. I mean, this R&B track was released while the Beatles were launching Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, Hendrix was astonishing the world with his Experience, and the Doors were dazzling audiences with their Oedipus complexes… and… you get me?
We return to Aftermath with “Mother’s Little Helper”. “Mother’s” features a dark, acidic zither, 12-string guitars, a frenetic, almost militaristic rhythm, and an Eastern-tinged riff that shapes the entire song. The way Mick opens with “What a drag it is getting old…” is almost mythical, recapturing the protopunk essence of Pete Townshend and strikingly ironic when applied to Jagger’s current state. The rest of the lyrics are acerbic, but rather than an attack, they chronicle a contemporary malaise. Jagger doesn’t seem to be criticizing middle-aged mothers for needing pills to cope with daily pressures, but rather society for saddled them with those pressures. The riff repeats between verses as the band relentlessly maintains the frenetic rhythm, and the Western-style chorus is monumental and sticky as chewing gum: "Doctor please, some more of this, Outside the door, she took four more," culminating in the opening line. One can easily picture the scene. Charlie is relentless, maintaining the martial rhythm and occasionally delivering excellent fills, while Bill occasionally employs a slide bass line that sweeps across the entire neck of his instrument, lending it an almost malevolent depth. The ending, moreover, is hilarious and unexpected, conceived by Bill.
"Take It Or Leave It" is perhaps the most pop-oriented and saccharine track on Aftermath. It's the album's most dated song and seems to have fit better on earlier albums, which is why it doesn't suit Flowers particularly well. But it's very well-crafted, full of hooks, with acoustic guitar in minor keys, a chorus as catchy as bubblegum, and even a bridge with "Shalalás." The song is light, but pleasant, quite cute, although it feels a bit out of place with the rest of the album.
Then there's "Ride On Baby", a rather innocent and somewhat dated pop song. The Stones weren't even going to record it originally and gave it to Chris Farlowe, who released it as a single in '66. But despite sounding very dated, it has a certain charm. The innocent and playful melody is catchy, particularly in the chorus. Brian shines on a 12-string Rickenbacker, and he also added the harpsichord notes, which serve as a hook and lend it a certain psychedelic touch.
Flowers closes with “Sittin' on a Fence”, where Mick and Keith sing a duet of backing vocals, and Brian again plays the harpsichord. The backing track is acoustic, and the melody is catchy, albeit very simple. Somehow, despite not being released as a single, the song managed to climb the charts and reach number 40 in the UK.
In short, an uneven album. On the one hand, it has the best of Aftermath and Buttons, making it an incredibly strong record, with the drawback that those tracks had already been released. On the other hand, it also has the worst of those albums, namely, the outtakes. The unreleased songs are quite weak and detract from the album, and, to be more precise, we could have marked another couple as bad. Despite what one might think, the Stones weren't to blame for this; rather, they were forced by circumstances to allow Oldham to tamper with the tapes and release the album. The Stones themselves disowned it, but commercially it was a smash hit, reaching #3 in the midst of the Summer of Love, keeping the Rolling Stones at the top and giving them a chance to prepare for the legal trouble that was coming their way, the personal fracture within the group that was about to occur, and the start of recording the ultimate psychedelic joke called Their Satanic Majesties Request.
By Corvan
Nov/29/2011
