The Cavern
Rock & Words
THEIR SATANIC MAJESTIES REQUEST (The Rolling Stones, 1967)
Artist: The Rolling Stones (A)
Recording Dates: Feb – Oct ‘67
Release Date: December 8th, 1967. UK
Record Labelñ: London / Decca
Producer: The Rolling Stones
Rating: 8.5
Era: Psychedelia (1966-1969)
Subgenre: Psychedelia
Best Song: She’s A Rainbow, by far.
Tracklist: 1) Sing This All Together; 2) Citadel; 3) In Another Land; 4) 2,000 Man; 5) Sing This All Together (See What Happens); 6) She's A Rainbow; 7) The Lantern; 8) Gomper; 9) 2,000 Light Years From Home; 10) On With The Show.
This is a legendary album (it's enough to say that it's where they got their nickname "Their Satanic Majesties"), but also very underrated, and I get the impression that it's one of those albums everyone knows about, but few have actually listened to. It's not the Stones' best album, but it has to be said that, firstly, it was released extremely late due to the legal problems the Stones were facing because of the drug raid on Keith's country house mid-year. Because of this, the album seems out of step with the times, when the psychedelic tsunami had already passed and bands were beginning to transition to a bluesier, more retro sound. If it had been released during the Summer of Love, I'm not saying it would have had the same impact as Sgt. Pepper's, but I think it would have been more appreciated.
Another point is that it's not an album the Stones themselves took too seriously. It's a psychedelic joke. It's not the first time they've dabbled in psychedelia; they'd already done so with Aftermath and Flowers in a much darker and more effective way, but here they go to extremes and seem to be ridiculing the Flower Power movement. At the beginning of the year, they had the idea of doing something serious and experimental, but Mick Jagger went to Abbey Road to snoop around the Beatles under the pretext of inviting them to the party where he would take LSD for the first time (the one where they were raided), and while he was there, he listened to what they were recording, which would become Sgt. Pepper's. He was so impressed that he realized the only way to release a psychedelic album without looking ridiculous would be to do it as a joke, as satire. It's often criticized as a copy of Peppers, but on closer inspection, it's more melodic and experimental, even bearing more resemblance to Floyd's debut album. It's not that I consider it better, but rather that I find it terribly overshadowed and underrated.
And finally, it's a transitional album in every sense. When discussing the Rolling Stones' early period, the focus is generally on the albums from England's Newest Hitmakers to Aftermath or Between the Buttons; when discussing their mature period, it usually begins with Beggar's Banquet. So this album falls into a kind of limbo! It's also the only album the Stones self-produced (they would choose Jimmy Miller for subsequent albums), but this album marks their complete break with Andrew Loog Oldham after feeling betrayed by him for making concessions to the record label and television networks that they disagreed with. With Oldham's departure from the Stones' inner circle, they soon signed New York lawyer Allen Klein as their manager, who would bleed them dry and have absolute control over their finances, to the point that, during periods of crisis due to their extensive legal troubles, they sometimes didn't have a penny to their name. In any case, the absolute creative freedom is reflected in the lack of limits on experimentation on this album, which isn't always a good thing in every song. They did countless takes, and in post-production, there was no one to tell them when to stop.
Satanic Majesties is also the last album on which Brian Jones collaborated as an active member of the band. His influence is still evident in the rich soundscape, from organs, flutes, sitar, dulcimer, harps, and pianos (again played by Nicky Hopkins) to saxophone, synthesizers, static, string arrangements (by John Paul Jones himself), and Mellotron. During the recording sessions, the quintet was completely fractured, Brian's spirit utterly broken, and his participation in Beggar's the following year would be almost nonexistent, with Gram Parsons taking over creatively. On this album, they reached the point where the sessions were held separately, as they couldn't bear to see each other.
The dramatic split of the original quintet stemmed from the drug raid on Keith's country house in Redlands. Only Richards and Jagger were charged and summoned to court. Brian, the most well-traveled of them all, wasn't there, presumably because the day before he'd been too high to drive and make it! So he narrowly escaped prosecution. The lawyers advised the Stones to keep a low profile and even disappear for a while, so Brian and Keith, who were the closest members of the group at the time, decided to go to Morocco, where they could slip away and relax for a few days, and also experiment with the local music, which Brian was becoming increasingly fascinated with.
The trip began in Paris, where Tom Keylock, a friend of both, transported his car, Blue Lena, via ferry and joined Keith, Brian, and Anita Pallenberg at the Hotel George V. The beautiful Deborah Dixon, who was living with Donald Cammell, also joined them. They set off in the car with the idea of traveling through Aquitaine, Spain, and Morocco (crossing the Mediterranean by ferry at Gibraltar). Anita and Keith began flirting while Brian was high. After a day on the road, Brian turned blue and couldn't breathe, so they took him to a hospital in Toulouse, where they found blood in his lungs. Brian stayed for a few days to recover but asked the others to continue without him, promising to catch up with them by plane later, possibly arriving at the same time. That evening, when they checked into a hotel, Keith asked Keylock to take only three-quarters of a room. He and Anita spent the night together. The next day, Deborah Dixon, scandalized and anticipating trouble, flew back to Paris. The next day, they continued their journey to Spain, and Keylock could barely drive because Keith and Anita were having sex the whole time in the back seat. They spent two days in Marbella, and then telegrams arrived from Brian desperately pleading with them to come and get him so he could get back to London. They picked him up, and Anita sadly accompanied him home. Keylock and Richards resumed their journey on the Blue Lena, arriving at the luxurious El Minzah Hotel in Tangier, where Mick Jagger, Robert Fraser, and other friends from the Stones' inner circle were already waiting for them. Days later, Brian, Anita, and Marianne Faithfull arrived by plane, after a stopover in Gibraltar, where Brian was so high on acid that he started playing music for some monkeys on the rock, who became enraged and attacked him because they apparently didn't like it. Marianne would say: “Anita looked at Brian with horror, and right then and there I knew that the week was going to be fatal because Anita kept asking about Keith all day, what I thought of him, and comparing him to Brian.”
Upon arriving in Morocco, Brian was determined to experience the local music, so he contacted Brion Gysin, an avant-garde artist, who introduced him to the Master Musicians of Jajouka, an ancient tribe south of Tangier. Since the group was quite large, Gysin recommended that only one or two people go, and ultimately only Brian went, as the others found it rather boring. They checked into the Hotel Marrakesh, and Brian spent a couple of days discovering this music, which would influence him in much the same way that Indian music influenced Harrison.
Anyway, the point is that when they got back, something happened that made them suspicious of the relationship between Keith and Anita, and suddenly they were shouting at each other in the hotel lobby, and she told him everything. He hit her with unprecedented ferocity and went to his room. Anita went out to the pool, where the photographer Cecil Beaton was taking pictures of Keith, and she sat watching them with a bruised face.
That night, Brion Gysin and Brian Jones spent their time tripping on acid and talking about the Jajouka, while listening to Keith's guitar as he sang to Anita under the moonlight. Later, Jones went out and returned with two Berber prostitutes. Brian was completely drunk and high and didn't know what he was doing. The two women tried to restrain him, and he led them to Anita's room. Keylock noticed and tried to dissuade him, pointing out the absurdity of his "plan," which was to try and convince her to join a foursome with the prostitutes. Anita told him to get lost, as expected, and Brian flew into a rage, trashing the room. Anita grabbed her things and went to Keith's room. The next morning, Keylock asked Gysin to take Brian out for a few hours, and in the meantime, everyone packed their bags, paid the bills (including Brian's damage), and caught the first flight to London.
When he returned, Brian was alone. Literally. Without the love of his life, and without the band he had formed. Gysin had to arrange for a doctor to give him tranquilizers to prevent him from jumping from the tenth floor. But he never recovered.
When he arrived at his flat in London, he realized that all of Anita's things were gone. She had moved in with Keith. Years later, Keith would say: “I was a real bastard. The truth is, I didn't realize what I was doing to her. It seemed perfectly natural to me, but she was the love of her life. If I were her, I would never have forgiven myself either.”
More than half the album was recorded under this tension, added to the stress Mick and Keith were already under due to their potential imprisonment. Mick would later say it wasn't recorded under the influence of drugs, but rather under the influence of bail money. Hahahaha! The sessions were scattered throughout almost all of 1967, with everyone doing their own thing and bringing along up to half a dozen guests each, so at times the atmosphere was incredibly heavy and it was impossible to really work. Bill would later admit that he almost left the band during the recording of Satanic's, and that his song was a parody of all the crap the others were writing. The cover art is another psychedelic joke and perhaps the only thing truly comparable to Peppers. It's a photograph by Michael Cooper, which in its original design was supposed to have a 3D effect where, viewed with glasses, the faces of the band members, dressed in medieval attire, rotated against the background, but it was so expensive that in the reissues it was replaced with a regular photo. The Beatles' faces can be seen in miniature among the flowers, as a way of thanking them for their moral support and vocals on a couple of tracks, and because of the Rolling Stones-esque figure on the Peppers cover. Well, at least it's better than the photo of Mick naked on a cross that he originally intended! The title, which scandalized many and stuck as a nickname, is also simply a joke, parodying the phrase on British passports that reads "Their British Majesty Request..."
The album opens with a burst of dissonant brass over a slow piano. “Sing This All Together” is a very strange song, where Brian's clear influence from the Master Musicians of Jajouka is already evident. It's a kind of mantra with just two verses and an intoxicating chorus, in which Mick invites people to close their eyes, open their minds, and let the images come. There's a long instrumental passage in the middle, with exotic noises, percussion, cymbals, guitar flourishes that foreshadow the solo in “Sympathy,” marimbas (?), and in general, the band strives to create the most bizarre atmosphere possible. The melody itself isn't entirely happy; there's something bitter about Mick's vocal tone. During the massive choruses, Paul and John sing; if you listen closely, you can hear Lennon providing the bass. It's somewhat repetitive and experimental, but it has a very catchy quality that makes it very good—an excellent choice to open the album.
Next up is “Citadel”, which is the closest thing to punk rock the Stones ever made, even when they tried to dabble in punk. Keith delivers a powerful three-note riff that would later be covered by countless punk bands, including The Damned. The thing is, this track is incredibly powerful, and if it weren't for the strobe-like arrangements, it could have easily fit on Beggar's Banquet. The instrumentation is incredibly varied, which is what gives the song its exotic feel. Mick adds those brilliant tings on a marimba. Nicky Hopkins contributed piano and harpsichord. Brian incorporated Mellotron, saxophone, and flute. This gives the song a lot of power, but also a dreamlike aura. The lyrics reference Manhattan, and Candy (Darling) and Taffy are two drag queens from Warhol's circle (Candy had already been mentioned by the Velvet Underground in "Candy Says"), while Mick sings in a slurred accent, parodying Dylan. A very underrated song, and one that undoubtedly grows on you with each listen until it becomes addictive. Furthermore, the riff is the best and most powerful thing Keith had come up with in a very, very long time.
“In Another Land” opens with a strange harpsichord, flutes, and 12-string guitars. This song is by Bill Wayman, and it's the only one in the entire Stones catalog that he sings himself. His voice has an oscillating effect that makes it sound as if he's underwater. It's not actually THAT different from Mick's mid-range vocals (have you noticed that when a band member who isn't the frontman sings, they almost always try to sound as similar as possible? Do they learn the tricks and inflections? Pete Townshend-Roger Daltrey, Ray Densmore-Jim Morrison, are examples that come to mind right now). The point is that these vibrations mask Bill's lack of technique. The chorus is magnificent, very melodic, and with Mick dominating: “Then I awoke, Was this some kind of joke?, Much to my surprise, I opened my eyes…” The song was a parody of what the rest of the band was composing. Bill was fed up with the informality of the sessions. One day he arrived at the studio to find that no one else had shown up, so it was canceled. The sound engineer, Glyn Johns, asked him if he didn't want to record something, and Bill said he'd had a melody stuck in his head for a few days. They started recording, and the others liked the demo. At the end, you can hear Bill sounding like he's snoring.
With “2000 Man”, the band kicks off with an acoustic ballad, the guitars crackling melancholically. It sounds like an old country-blues tune, the kind that would dominate their later work. Mick sings in an oddly high register. This part is very good, up until around 1:15, where Mick gives a terrifying description of how he would see the world in 2000. Terrifying because it really does look a lot like today! Then the drums stay on for a moment, and they launch into a completely different section, with the ridiculous psychedelic choruses “Oh Daddy, proud of your planet, Oh Mommy, proud of your sun,” adding Mellotron guitars and jamming aimlessly towards the end. The first part had a lot of potential, but this is where the lack of an experienced producer becomes apparent.
The chaotic ending segues into “Sing This All Together (See What Happens)”, which is nothing more than a recorded marijuana party. Marianne coughs, a Mellotron plays, the sweet sounds of the marimba, Marianne asks “Flower Power, eh?”, laughter erupts, Mick asks “Where’s the Joint?” The first part of the song is difficult to digest, but ultimately enjoyable. This reprise is unbearable. It’s a chaotic jam, full of unpredictable noises and supposed experimentation. If they wanted to show us Moroccan music, they had already done so successfully with the first part, so why ruin it? Why torture us for 7:40? Why do they think we’re interested in hearing Mick moaning or screaming like an ape? Strike one. And the worst part is that John Lennon probably thought it was hilarious and later did his own version on the White Album, if you know what I mean. If they wanted to fill space, they could have put "We Love You" or "Dendelion" in its place and the album would have improved enormously. Horrible mistake.
Fortunately, side B begins with a masterpiece. “She’s A Rainbow” has to be in my top 10 Stones songs. It starts with sounds of Hockney’s voice selling fish and vegetables as an intro, before launching into Hopkins’ delicate, butterfly-like piano, perhaps his best collaboration with the Rolling Stones. The violins, arranged by John Paul Jones, are immediately added. Interestingly, this song is the most grounded and produced on the album, and it’s said that Jones had a lot to do with it. The song is perfect, with a gorgeous melody, baroque arrangements, and perfect backing vocals with those La la la’s. The middle instrumental section, a duel between Hopkins and John Paul Jones, is breathtakingly beautiful. Mick was incredibly inspired by his muse Marianne Faithfull, to whom he dedicated it: “Have you seen her all in gold, Like a queen in days of old? She shoots colours all around, like a sunset going down, Have you seen a lady fairer?” He was never so gallant and sincere at the same time. Charlie, by the way, also sounds magnificent, with a complex rhythm that doesn't overshadow the instrumentation. At the end, the violins create dissonances just before the final chorus, and we close with a powerful, distorted chord. The song is a masterful example of psychedelia, without going overboard, with an impeccable melody and every note and arrangement perfectly placed. Sublime!
“The Lantern” is a much darker song, with a tolling bell and a sepulchral Mellotron. The melody is strange, somewhat eerie, lengthening the first syllable with second and third voices, and then Mick pulling away and playing with the timing. Hopkins' piano is more cheerful, tinkling and shimmering. The lyrics are more perplexing, but supposedly influenced by Aleister Crowley's ideas on communication with the other world and the occult. It's not one of their best, but I don't think it's bad either.
In “Gomper”. Moroccan experimentation returns with Arabic and Eastern influences. Brian plays the curious sitar riff; there's tambura, tabla… Jones actually played almost all the instruments. The melody is rather weak, trying to stir at times, but even the organ sounds somewhat sleepy. I understand the song's experimental tone, but Brian would have been better off joining Harrison for an Eastern-influenced album instead of one with the Stones. In the end, it drags on in an unnecessary collage of sounds. In any case, it's at least a demonstration of his versatility, but no, he's not a Master Musician of Jajouka.
“2,000 Light Years From Home” is another damn gem, a contender for one of the most underrated tracks in the Stones' catalog, and if it weren't for “Rainbow,” it would undoubtedly be the album's highlight. Jagger wrote it in Brixton Prison, clearly feeling quite alone. The song has a Kubrickian feel, a year before 2001: A Space Odyssey. It also has a certain Floydian space rock vibe from the Piper era. A chaotic piano intro, a Mellotron trail, a drum roll where Watts sounds reminiscent of Mason himself, and we get into the groove. There's a good guitar arrangement (I don't know if you can call it a riff), very crisp, which at times becomes a muffled fingerpicking and a pseudo-solo around the two-minute mark. And then the strange effects begin, aerial sounds and the like, to round out the interstellar journey. It's a dark, psychedelic, cool track all at once. At times, Brian's Mellotron oscillations remind me of Jonny Greenwood's effects with Radiohead. Seriously! Glyn Johns would say Brian was something else. When he entered the studio in early '67, he barely knew how to turn on the Mellotron. By the time they finished, he could create the exact texture he wanted, and he had mastered it perfectly. Johns says that in 1967 the instrument was incredibly complex, known to only a handful of people in the world, and therefore, what Brian did had a merit that few could understand, including the rest of the band. The song is magnificent; it achieves its claustrophobic and suffocating effect (in a good way), but it has something magical and addictive about it. I suppose that something is called Brian Jones.
We close with “On With The Show”, which should never have been included. This track is perhaps what brought it so much criticism and so many unfavorable comparisons to Peppers. Seriously? A song about a cabaret show right after the Beatles released Sgt. Pepper? Actually, it sounds more like “Being For the Benefit of Mr. Kite,” with verses that are more spoken than sung, weak melodies, and distracting background effects. In the end, it sounds like a jam session to justify the song. They knew beforehand that they were going to get a lot of criticism for this track. And they got it.
In short. There are two bad tracks, two mediocre ones, and the rest are tremendous songs featuring the Stones at their most experimental. Considering the circumstances under which it was recorded, it's truly a miracle that anything coherent emerged. The Stones weren't masters of psychedelia, but along with the Beatles, they're perhaps the only band capable of entering any genre, experimenting a bit, and emerging with a mastery of it. Not all the songs work; there are two missteps, but the ones that do are true gems, growing in quality with each listen. Many supposedly psychedelic bands never managed to release so many good tracks throughout their entire discography. The problem was always the shadow of Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, and the fact that at that time, the Stones were like the pariahs of rock due to their legal troubles. Even its own creators would later disown it. Even so, I think it's an album worth giving a listen, and you might be surprised by songs you didn't know or hadn't paid much attention to. Dark, mystical, psychedelic. They never sounded the same again. After this album, they would return to their roots, beginning their classic era... And Brian Jones would be superfluous.
By Corvan
May/28/2012
