The Cavern
Rock & Words
STICKY FINGERS (The Rolling Stones, 1971)
Artist: The Rolling Stones (A)
Recording Date: Feb ’70 - Jan ‘71
Release Date: April 23rd, 1971. UK
Record Label: Rolling Stones
Producer: Jimmy Miller
Rating: 10 (ICONIC ALBUM, MUST HAVE)
Era: Hard Rock (1968-???)
Subgenre: Hard Rock
Best Song: Brown Sugar, Followed by Sister Morphine and Wild Horses
Tracklist: 1) Brown Sugar; 2) Sway; 3) Wild Horses; 4) Can't You Hear Me Knocking; 5) You Gotta Move; 6) Bitch; 7) I Got The Blues; 8) Sister Morphine; 9) Dead Flowers; 10) Moonlight Mile.
I must emphasize that with the Rolling Stones, everything is a coincidence. Just as I was beginning to prepare the review of this album, the first where he has a starring role and begins his role as the "sixth Rolling Stone," Bobby Keys, the horn master of "The Greatest Band on Earth," died.
For many, Sticky Fingers is the Stones' best album. We won't delve into that eternal debate, but it's undeniable that it's monumental and groundbreaking in many ways: The Beatles had disbanded, and Bob Dylan seemed to be trying to escape the world, so the spotlight fell squarely on the quintet. It's their first album after the end of their contract with Decca and the first on their own label, which they had created; therefore, the first with that adorable tongue logo, which would become synonymous with the band itself (something even Prince couldn't achieve, ha!). It's their first studio album without Brian, and the first with Taylor on every track. The first where the band ceased to be a quintet, becoming practically an eight-piece live band, if we count the horns, which Bobby Keys would lead from then on, and Hopkins' keyboards. The first where Keith was already deep into heroin addiction (and it was starting to show in his vocals) and began to relinquish control of the band to Jagger. The first album where the lyrics shift from provocative misogyny to blatant obscenity. The first where that "inner circle" breaks down after Marianne Faithfull left Mick's life, and he becomes a jet-set diva. The first where they seem to have bought into the bad-boy image the media foisted on them in the '60s, and decided to play the part, but as a kind of caricature of themselves. It's also the first in a series of albums where the Stones became a ballad band ("Wild Horses," "Angie," "Fool to Cry," "Beast of Burden," "Waiting on a Friend"), at least for radio… in fact, the Rolling Stones are basically a new band, very different from the one in the '60s. It was a new decade, and the Rolling Stones perhaps realized they had to reinvent themselves to survive the changes, although my feeling is that… yes, it was all a series of coincidences.
Sticky Fingers somehow represents a more mature, modern, aggressive, and sophisticated sound all at once… It still sounds similar to Beggar's or Bleed in its Country-Blues roots, but at the same time, a significant change is noticeable. It's not just the presence of Mick Taylor, who gave it an artistic touch with his bluesy, jazzy guitar. With this album, the Rolling Stones undoubtedly gained in musical sophistication. But we can no longer say that Sticky Fingers is a Hard Rock, Blues, or Country album, like the previous two. The Rolling Stones were beginning to assimilate other sounds of the decade, such as Glam, Funk, Power Pop, and later Reggae, Disco, and Punk… It's true, you have to adapt, not stagnate, and embrace other genres. But somehow, I feel they left an entire era behind, and since then, they have dedicated themselves for ages to stoically (sometimes successfully) defending their title of “The Greatest Rock Band on Earth.”
The truth is, the Rolling Stones of the 70s were broken. But what broke them? Brian's death? No, or at least not entirely; they at least had the excuse that it wasn't their fault. To understand the Rolling Stones' metamorphosis and the essence of this album, we first need to dive into Altamont. "The Pearl Harbor of the Woodstock Nation," as Stephen Davis put it. But also the Stones' breaking point.
Altamont was a free rock festival, scheduled for December 1969, making it the last of the decade. Mick and Keith hadn't forgiven themselves for missing all the major rock festivals, from Monterey to Woodstock, because of Brian Jones and his legal troubles.
Originally, the festival was planned for a park near San Francisco's Golden Gate Bridge. However, political and legal issues prevented it from taking place there, and it was moved at the last minute to Altamont, a location in the middle of treeless hills 80 kilometers south of Oakland. The festival was intended to be an "East Coast Woodstock," and the lineup included Santana, the Flying Burrito Brothers (with Keith's then-close friend Gram Parsons), Jefferson Airplane, Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, and the Grateful Dead. The Grateful Dead were, in fact, initially the main promoters of the festival, but the Stones practically stole control. They decided they didn't want any trouble with the American police (with whom they already had a falling out), and they insisted on the Hell's Angels biker gang, who had already helped them with security at some concerts in England and were willing to do it for nothing but beer. Two points: first, the American Hell's Angels were far more violent than their British counterparts. And second, you're going to pay your security detail with a shipment of beer for them to drink right there? REALLY??? The Rolling Stones had previously done a mini-tour of the US, and on many occasions, outbreaks of violence had occurred, mainly due to the band's lateness; they could take the stage up to eight hours after the scheduled time. In Memphis, a few days before the festival, the Stones began recording demos at Muscle Shoals studio. One was "Black Pussy," named after Claudia Linnear, Jagger's "mistress" at the time, and later renamed "Brown Sugar," which is also the name for unrefined heroin from Southeast Asia. Another was "Cocsucker Blues," which was never released. And finally, one that Mick forced Keith to write. Richards was creatively blocked, missing Anita and his son Marlon terribly, so he hadn't written anything for weeks. Mick demanded that he deliver a rock song appropriate for the Deep South where they were. The next day, Keith showed up with a song called "Wild Horses," dedicated to his son. Two days later, they flew to San Francisco.
On December 6th, 300,000 people packed the hills in front of the stage. Santana was the first to perform and did everything perfectly, as expected. However, Carlos managed to catch glimpses of knife fights near the stage, which was only 1.20 meters high. Then Gram Parsons wowed the crowd with his Flying Burrito Brothers, but at one point the Hell's Angels started beating up the girls who were approaching the handsome Gram, and the music stopped. The Stones arrived by helicopter in the afternoon, without Bill, who had missed his flight. Mick got off the helicopter, picked some flowers, and then a guy high on acid punched him. It was too many warnings! Gram told Keith what he had seen: "This isn't right, man." Jefferson Airplane followed, with Grace Slick calling for calm. A Hell's Angel began savagely punching a Black boy in the face, and Marty Balin jumped off the stage trying to separate them, but was knocked out by the biker with a single blow. When the Grateful Dead came on, Michael Shrieve, Santana's drummer, told Jerry Garcia, alarmed, what was happening, and Jerry refused to play, claiming that "there was too much bad vibe, something abrasive in the air." CSN&Y tried to calm things down with their mellow harmonies, but the Angels had parked their Harleys next to the stage and were already using pool cues, which they continued to use to beat people. There wasn't a single police officer around; the drunken Hell's Angels were supposed to be the ones keeping order! The cameras recorded everything! After CSN&Y, there was a long pause before the Stones came on, waiting for things to calm down. Bill Wyman arrived after dark. At 7 pm the stage lights came back on and the Stones (with one of their last five-piece live lineups) launched into one of the best performances of that American tour, starting with “Jumpin’ Jack Flash,” then “Carol” and “Sympathy,” which again sparked fights all over the stage. Keith stopped playing and the others followed suit. “Why are you fighting? Why are we fighting? Something weird always happens when we play this song,” said Mick. Glass bottles began to fly and the Hell’s Angels removed the Stones’ entourage of women from backstage. Keith suggested playing something quieter and they launched into “The Sun Is Shining,” then “Stray Cat Blues” and “Love In Vain” with an inspired solo from Taylor. Then Bill started the opening line of “Under My Thumb”…
We all know what happened. A Black guy named Meredith Hunter had been harassing the Angels all night. Halfway through "Thumb," he managed to get close to the stage, pull a gun out of his green jacket, and point it at the stage. A Hell's Angel jumped him and stabbed him in the head. He dragged him out of sight and stabbed him in the back. A bunch of Angels piled on top of him and kicked him to death. Legend says his last words were, "I wasn't going to shoot."
That was the end of the hippie era's innocence. The turning point, the "Dream Is Over" that Lennon would announce a year later. The Rolling Stones didn't even notice. Finishing the song meant ending the show, but young Taylor, still buzzing with adrenaline, suggested debuting "Brown Sugar." Keith smiled and plugged his guitar back in. The crowd seemed to calm down; the Stones didn't know it was because of a rumor that someone had been killed, so, thinking that everything was finally quiet, they continued with "Midnight Rambler" and closed with "Street Fighting Man." Two Hell's Angels showered rose petals on the crowd, and the Stones left in a helicopter.
On December 7th, they met early in Keith's room. Everyone was incredulous upon learning what had happened. Mick Jagger was on the verge of a hysterical breakdown at the thought of him being targeted. They decided to leave the city that same day and leave a spokesperson to try to blame the Hell's Angels, who at some point had put a price on Mick's head.
The truth is that on December 6, 1969, at Altamont, the innocence of the hippie generation and of rock died. Airplane! and CSN&Y decided not to play live for a long time. The press was, in some ways, more lenient with them than expected. But that day something also died within the Rolling Stones, something I don't think they've ever been able to shake off. Bill Wyman would write in his memoirs that Mick said afterward, "After all, that Flower Power thing was just bullshit, uh?" That's when the Rolling Stones shattered into a thousand pieces: Keith would sink for a decade into heroin, in a near-catatonic state; Mick Jagger would become a frivolous jet-set diva; the other Mick would display virtuosity, but would never truly fit in. And perhaps Altamont wasn't the final straw, but I think that realizing what had happened created an even greater barrier between him and the rest of the group. Bill wouldn't speak to Keith again until 1981. And Charlie… Charlie was always the most normal and level-headed member of the band. Stanley Booth, who had been on the group's 1969 tour, wrote: “After Altamont, the Stones wanted to take a turn towards comedy for reasons of self-preservation.” What happened to them afterward, in my humble opinion, was merely a consequence of the Altamont trauma.
Keith, upon returning to London, finally in the arms of Anita Pallenberg and their son Marlon (born in July), found that she had become addicted to heroin, justifying it by citing postpartum depression and loneliness. Instead of helping her, he joined her in addiction, spending the entire 1970s in the arms of Morpheus. Perhaps this is why Bill, the only one who didn't use drugs, stopped speaking to him around the time they began working on the new songs. They started rehearsing at Jagger's country house. Bobby Keys, 27, began attending the sessions, and later brought his friend Jim Price to complete the new horn section. A jam session between Taylor, Watts, and Keys ended up becoming "Bitch," and the young Mick wasn't credited even though the riff was his. Keith's "Japanese Thing" would evolve into "Moonlight Mile." In that session, they re-recorded "Cocksucker Blues," basically the old Mick and Keith's guitar; the first version of "Tumblin' Dice"; and their version of "Stop Breaking Down." During those sessions, Keith dusted off the tapes with Ry Cooder and re-recorded some parts for "Sister Morphine." They reworked the demos from the American tour, resulting in closer versions of "Wild Horses" (which is said to be based on an unreleased Parsons recording), "Brown Sugar," and "You Gotta Move."
Shortly after, Mick left Marianne. She had become a full-time junkie, and the heroin had made her unbearable. She'd gotten it into her head that she deserved a miserable fate as a drug addict in Soho, packed her bags, rolled up a Persian rug, and left to meet that fate. Mick begged her to stay and even swore that "he" had written "Wild Horses" for her and sang it to her. But Marianne left with her young son (from her previous marriage) and put on weight so Mick wouldn't come looking for her. Apparently, it worked, because Mick was soon dating Marsha Hunt. Faithfull thus left the Stones' inner circle.
Then two things happened almost simultaneously. First, their contract with Decca ended. Well, almost. They had to deliver one last single, so they sent "Cocksucker Blues," which isn't bad—Mick sounds almost Black—but it has lines like "Where do I get my cock sucked? Where do I get my ass fucked?" Decca never released it (but the demo is online and on the "Unplugged" bootleg) and instead released "Street Fighting Man" to fulfill the contract. The band then launched their own Rolling Stones Records, with the provocative tongue as its symbol, designed by Jagger. With total control, without anyone censoring them, Mick's lyrics broke that provocative, yet cleverly ambiguous, boundary to be direct, rough, and vulgar. And in my opinion, this is a cheap trick to create controversy and sell more records. This also allowed them to not limit the album covers, which in this case would be a pair of pants with a bulge and a zipper that could be opened. The Warhol design would have taken them ages, but they had it planned since "Let It Bleed", so it was ready in time for the new album.
The second thing was that, with the end of their contract with Decca, their contract with Allen Klein also finally ended. At the time, Klein was preoccupied with the legal troubles stemming from Paul McCartney's lawsuit against John, George, and Ringo. The problem was that as soon as they hired a new financial manager, he discovered that Klein had failed to pay millions of pounds in taxes. They each had a monumental debt and had until April 1, 1971, the end of the British tax year, to pay it off or go into exile; otherwise, they would face imprisonment. The other issue was that they didn't have the money to pay because Klein had completely wiped them out. They were broke, and the new album absolutely had to be a success, or they would be out on the street. So, they used the little time they had left to raise money and put together a European tour. It was their first tour with Bobby Keys and Jim Price as the horn section. Keys and Richards became very good friends, basically because Bobby was also a junkie and could get Keith heroin in any city they stopped in, so Keith sank deeper and deeper.
As if that weren't enough, on September 22, 1970, after the concert at the Olympia in Paris, Mick met a 21-year-old Nicaraguan girl named Bianca Pérez. In my very personal opinion, she was the Yoko Ono of the Stones, with the difference that she was somewhat prettier and belonged to the European and New York jet set. Mick fell completely in love with her. Bianca left her boyfriend, followed the Stones on tour, moved in with Mick in London, and within a few weeks, she was pregnant. In November, Marsha Hunt gave birth to Mick's first (acknowledged) daughter, named Karis, and Bianca was two months pregnant.
Bianca played the role of Yoko perfectly. She embodied everything Keith hated. She came from a very wealthy family, with political and social connections worldwide, a professional socialite, petite, delicate, pretentious, not at all rock and roll, and she didn't hold back her rudeness for Keith and Anita, who couldn't stand her. On December 18th, Keith celebrated his 27th birthday and invited the cream of the crop of British rock. Clapton, Keys, Al Kooper, and the Stones recorded an impromptu version of "Brown Sugar" so good that it was almost released on Sticky Fingers, which is also available online today. If you ask me, it's better than the studio version.
1971 began with the Stones heading inexorably toward exile in the south of France. Keith, worried about not being able to get his heroin supply once they were in France, detoxed with apomorphine for four screaming days. He was clean… until Gram Parsons arrived for vacation three days later. In March, they started a British tour to scrape together more pounds before leaving. It's said to have been one of the Stones' worst tours, with Jagger distracted by Bianca and Keith playing terribly. Richards has always been the one who kept time in the Stones, but if Keith isn't on his game, the band doesn't click, and Charly can't keep time. There were nights when he was one or two songs late, sometimes even in the middle of a concert; but on this tour, Keith simply never got going. He was also missing trains and planes, and shows started up to five hours late, and the tour itself had to be timed around little Marlon's schedule. On March 30th they threw a farewell party in London, hours later they boarded a plane with practically a complete move, and crossed the Channel towards the French Riviera to begin their exile, but that's another story.
The album kicks off with “Brown Sugar”, a tremendous rocker that's like an adrenaline rush from the very beginning, with that monumental riff by Richards combined with Taylor. It's possibly the only song from the '70s that has a guaranteed place in my Stones top ten. It's one of their essential concert tracks and a symbol of the Rolling Stones themselves. In a way, it not only represents the mood of the album—dirty, carefree, party-oriented, more rock 'n' roll, brash, and with outrageous lyrics—but also the band itself in the nascent decade. “Satisfaction” is to the '60s what “Brown Sugar” is to the '70s. Musically, it has an immense energy; everything is in its place. The guitars interact like kindred spirits to build the riff and that ascending scale, with something brutal, primitive, and dark in the sequence, just before Mick enters with an overwhelming presence. He truly sings as if he knows he's a god. The choruses are as catchy as bubblegum, with Keith harmonizing the battle cry. Keys' sax is present almost the entire song, hidden in the mix, but it shines brightly at 1:40 in a masterful solo, perhaps the best of his career, and one that justifies why luminaries like Richards and Taylor don't play lead guitar. The song seems to get even more frenetic when Keith joins Mick on vocals, Ian Stewart's piano is added, someone starts playing maracas, and before we know it, we're at one of their legendary parties, with Mick screaming at the top of his lungs, "Yeah, yeah, YEAH, WOOO." The lyrics… well, Mick would try to justify them by saying they were against slavery, but he recently admitted that he wouldn't write anything like that today. It's dedicated to Claudia Linnear, whom Mick dated for a while, but Jagger went way too far by referencing slavery, interracial sex (which was still taboo at the time), cunnilingus, sadomasochism, teenage virginity loss, and heroin, among other things. But even so, it's impossible not to shout the chorus: “Brown sugar, how come you taste so good, now? Brown sugar, just like a young girl should, now.” The term also alludes to the unrefined heroin from Southeast Asia that would become fashionable throughout the decade. But despite the questionable lyrics (and they know I'm no prude), “Brown Sugar” became an anthem, a kind of battle cry with which the Stones open or close concerts, a song with a crushing groove, one of the best riffs on Riffmaster, and one that's still played on the radio today.
Next up is “Sway”, which isn’t a bad track, but it had the misfortune of being sandwiched between two of the Stones’ best songs, which overshadow it. It’s also true that it’s slightly repetitive, a circular blues-ballad with Mick’s oscillating melody. Interestingly, it’s the first track in their entire discography where Jagger plays rhythm guitar, and Richards, in fact, is conspicuously absent, except for the backing vocals on the chorus, which he added later. At 1:30, Taylor delivers a fine slide solo, and an even wilder one for the emotional coda, accompanied by a string section arranged by Paul Buckmaster. Charlie does a great job, adding more fills than usual. Credited to Jagger/Richards, Taylor would later argue that Keith wasn’t in Stargrooves when they started writing it, and that it was he who added the guitar riffs. The lyrics again allude to certain “demons,” and seem to be an allegory for the heroin Richards was addicted to, or perhaps Marianne.
“Wild Horses” is one of the greatest ballads in rock history. Emotional, with a certain darkness or bitterness, but with a glimmer of hope in the background. Presumably, it was the song Keith came up with after Mick forced him to write something after weeks or months of not doing so. Being rooted in the heart of country music in Alabama, the song inevitably carries a certain influence. The track is incredibly emotional, with everyone delivering a superb performance. From Mick, who sings with genuine pain, perhaps taking on lyrics that could be dedicated to Faithful in the midst of her self-destructive spiral, but here Mick sings almost on the verge of tears, and it can be contagious. The young Taylor plays the acoustic guitar, also in a slow, moving way, initially setting the stage for Keith's electric guitar licks, and later, the tearful slide guitar solos he delivers. Ian was in the studio, but since he didn't like playing minor keys, he refused to play, and his place was taken by session musician Jim Dickinson, who contributes to the melancholy from the moment he enters at 2:45, also adding a touch of elegance. At minute 3, Richards plays a simple but perfect slide guitar solo in a kind of instrumental bridge that shifts to major keys to contrast with the rest. The lyrics are magnificent. Keith was heartbroken, missing Anita and Marlon, and suddenly came up with the first verses, in which he also bares his soul and the sensitivity of being a father: “I know I dreamed you a sin and a lie, I have my freedom but I don't have much time,” perhaps referring to his constant drug abuse. Mick would add lines, more directed at Marianne: “I watched you suffer a dull aching pain, now you decided to show me the same.” Almost closing with a line that leaves a glimmer of hope: “Faith has been broken, tears must be cried, Let's do some living after we die.” A beautiful, moving song, with guitars that seem to weep, and one that remains essential in their catalog. Josh Krajcik's version, a solo piano piece dedicated to his son, brought a lump to my throat.
We return to the rock side with “Can't You Hear Me Knocking”, which, despite being very upbeat, remains incredibly dark. It emerged when Keith was experimenting with the sharp, heroin-tinged riff on Stargrooves, and Charlie joined in with the rhythm. The song has a strong Chicano rock feel, with an apparent Santana influence in the repetitive riffs and the massive party they throw at the end. Interestingly, it wasn't supposed to be planned that way; the song was very simple, just the verses and choruses—they didn't know what else to add. Somehow, Ricky Dijon started a conga solo that was inserted at 2:45, Taylor engaged with other Santana-esque riffs, and Bobby Keys came in during that break with a solo infused with Latin jazz. Taylor unleashes his virtuosity with jazzy licks that build tension. At 4:40, Taylor takes over from Keys and launches into a massive guitar solo, again featuring repeated patterns that gradually build in intensity. The curious thing is that they didn't realize they were still recording. The entire jam, which stretches over 7 minutes, is simply spectacular, culminating in that incredible ascending scale (again bearing Carlos's signature style), with which the song ends. One of the most incredible jams ever recorded.
“You Gotta Move” closes Side A. It’s a Black spiritual blues song from the depths of Alabama, composed by Fred McDowell and Gary Davis. Keith plays slide guitar, and the vocals are filtered, giving it an old-fashioned, distant sound. Watts adds the bass drum, lending it a spiritual procession-like feel. Mick adopts a Southern accent to sing the lyrics. It’s a great version, respecting the original style and adding that dangerous Stones-esque edge, but it doesn’t quite shine on the album.
Then there's "Bitch", which reignites the energy with that devastating riff, supposedly Taylor's, playing around with it in the studio, to which Charlie and later Keys added, creating a sensational mood. Again, the young Mick wasn't credited. It's even faster than "Sugar," simpler, with that addictive riff as its foundation, but it's so good that it's enough to build the whole song. Jagger unfortunately ruins it a bit with those lyrics and the title. In any case, it's impossible not to feel the intensity of the guitars and the vocals. And the combination with Keys and Price's horns is a real pick-me-up. At 2:15, we have a great solo from Taylor, and at the end, Keith joins in, with sax flourishes and Mick's shouts of "Hey hey HEEEEY!" that end the party in a fade-out. The song is huge, but I maintain that the Stones didn't need to stoop to such lyrics. They were better when they cleverly metaphorized their misogyny, not when they spit lyrics like “Yeah when you call my name, I salivate like a Pavlov dog, Yeah when you lay me out, My heart is beating louder than a big bass drum, alright” right in your face. All the same, it's a killer song, a musical bombshell.
We continue with “I Got The Blues”. It’s certainly a blues song, but leans more towards a ballad, like some old Otis Redding tunes, with a certain gospel feel provided by the horns. It’s not bad at all, but it doesn’t sound sincere, and perhaps it would have been better suited to the more pop-oriented 12 X 5 or Now!. Here it seems somewhat out of place, and the most noteworthy element is perhaps Billy Preston’s Hammond organ solo. It’s not bad, but I think it’s the weakest track on the album.
With “Sister Morphine”, they return to their grand, monumental plan. This is a true blues, one of those that bites and leaves you bleeding, with the razor-sharp edge of Ry Cooder's steel guitar. The song dates back to 1969, composed with Marianne Faithfull, who released it as the B-side to her single “Something Better.” The lyrics were mostly hers, and they are terrifying. It's from the perspective of a soldier wounded in World War I, begging the nun-nurse to give him more morphine to ease his pain as he dies: “The scream of the ambulance is sounding in my ears, Tell me, Sister Morphine, how long have I been lying here? What am I doing in this place? Why does the doctor have no face?” She supposedly wrote it after an unsuccessful attempt at rehabilitation, in which doctors try to alleviate the pain of drug withdrawal using morphine. In this version, Mick sings almost desperately, but Ry Cooder undoubtedly steals the show with his prodigious, almost painful slide guitar playing, practically performing the entire song as a solo. Keith's guitar work is magnificent, Jack Nitzsche plays piano, and towards the end, he engages in a savage duel with Cooder for a brutal finale. On the release of Sticky Fingers, the Stones didn't credit Marianne at all, but after a legal battle, they had to include her. "Please, Sister Morphine, turn my nightmares into dreams." A terrifying song, a nightmare set to music.
“Dead Flowers” is a light and inoffensive country song. It serves to highlight the careful selection of the song order, creating constant contrasts between fast and slow tracks, between cheerful and somber ones, although almost all of them have a dark undertone. “Dead Flowers” could tentatively be another song Keith borrowed from Gram Parsons. In “Dead Flowers,” Mick again alludes to heroin, the flame, the needle, the spoon, and Suzy's farewell with her dead flowers.
The album closes with “Moonlight Mile”, which has certain Eastern textures. It’s a Keith song, originally titled “Japanese Thing” during recording sessions, but they abandoned it. Taylor revisited it in the studio and reworked it with Jagger, crafting most of the beautiful guitar embellishments. The intro is lovely, delicate, with a clear Japanese influence. The melody is like a slow tide, with a hypnotic beat thanks to Watts’s excellent work, and Jim Price, who usually played trumpet, plays piano; he didn’t know why he played it, but he did a great job. They again allude to cocaine: “When the wind blows and the rain feels cold, with a head full of snow,” but Jagger somehow disguises it better with melancholic metaphors about the desolation of spending months on the road. Midway through, a trail of strings is introduced, creating Eastern-tinged swaying and gaining prominence in the spectacular crescendo starting at 3:45. The song ends with a long, dreamy coda, its intensity waning after Jagger's final lament. A beautiful song, one of the Rolling Stones' most underrated ballads.
Fortunately, Sticky Fingers worked out very well for them, reaching number one and establishing the Stones as one of the heavy metal bands successfully transitioning from the '60s to the '70s with renewed energy and a new sound. They were influenced by Led Zeppelin, Grand Funk, Alice Cooper, Deep Purple, Humble Pie, T. Rex, and David Bowie. It was a completely new scene, and in a way, with this album, the Stones themselves became a new band, with a different attitude and sound, leaving behind the ghost of Brian Jones, though not that of Altamont.
It's impossible to doubt the album's quality; Taylor shines from beginning to end. It's remarkably varied for having only ten tracks, although somber tones predominate, along with constant references to drugs, which, while they colored the music of the '60s, seemed to darken the atmosphere of the '70s. The only drawback is the lyrics. It was a time of many, many changes, with the band on the brink of collapse due to financial issues and the inner circle fracturing because of drugs, Marianne's departure, Bianca's arrival, and Jagger's foray into the jet set. If they survived this, they could survive anything, as has already been seen. Sticky Fingers saved the Stones; it became an iconic album, acclaimed by the press and fans, and a staple of their concerts to this day. But while it signified the beginning of a new era, it was also the start of a decline that has lasted more than 50 years.
By Corvan
Dec/19/2014
