I'm also a big fan of the early CBS CD.
I've not heard the SACD yet, so that is still my preferred digital version for now. Still love my 1st UK vinyl pressing too.

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DoomandGloom
In Lenny's defense Exile didn't come into it's own until it was mastered for CD. Listening to the original vinyl does not do it justice. It's funny that two landmark albums from the 70's, Exile and Layla were in fact very poor sounding LPs. Exile was really taken up a notch and it is from that perspective we're reading this review. No one could have expected him to predict that Exile, the ultimate concept album, a peek inside the world of masters, would become so imitated and timeless. The greatest rock album ever, how could Lenny have known that?

Oh NO......I bought it on the day it came out on vinyl. It is STILL the best way to absorb this masterpiece. At the time I remember being taken aback by the "sound". It's, to my ears, a quantum leap from Brown Sugar to Tumbling Dice, or Shine a Light, or Rocks Off or Let it Loose, or Sweet Black Angel...

The band, STILL the Stones, had 'grown up' as song writers, their songs much more complex, YET clearly STILL the Stones. Sway from Sticky Fingers was the precursor to the SOUND on EOMS. They just SOUNDED so much better/fuller on EOMS. I was, and still am, ecstatic with the RECORD. The CDS, well they're OK, better than OK in fact, BUT THE RECORD....geez, BRILLIANT!

And I love having to get up & flip it over, love the crackle and pop and hiss - it's PART OF and INBRED into the whole EOMS Vinyl experience. But if you don't get it, you don't get it and that's fine too.

Rgds
Rod
Perth

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DoomandGloom

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drbryant

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DoomandGloom
In Lenny's defense Exile didn't come into it's own until it was mastered for CD. Listening to the original vinyl does not do it justice. It's funny that two landmark albums from the 70's, Exile and Layla were in fact very poor sounding LPs. Exile was really taken up a notch and it is from that perspective we're reading this review. No one could have expected him to predict that Exile, the ultimate concept album, a peek inside the world of masters, would become so imitated and timeless. The greatest rock album ever, how could Lenny have known that?

OK, I'll respond on behalf of all of the first generation fans and collectors here. This is just wrong. A good quality first pressing (from the UK, the US, West Germany or Japan), played on any decent analog set up, sounds much better than any digital version. The only exception is the SHM-SACD that was released in Japan about a year ago, and that costs $60 or so. Even later reissues in general sound better than the digital versions (the CBS pressing with the lettering in pink is one example of a great sounding reissue). By better, I mean more "air", better detail, far better dynamics and no blatant mistakes (like the volume "drop out" on "Sweet Virginia" on the original CBS and Sony CD's). The only exception is the piece of crap Virgin 180g vinyl (pressed at RTI) that was released a few years back - that sounds horrible.

Glad to see an audiophile's assessment. I prefer the CBS CD to all others including my pink reissue. Playing back the entire album in one sitting changed the way we listened to Exile, it brings you to a dark world immersed in drugs and sex, takes you on the road and finishes in a wash of desperate reverb and soul. The first time I heard it straight through on CD I was ripped apart.

The original CBS CD is decent and bears resemblance to a decent vinyl copy. If the choice is between playing the original vinyl on a less expensive table (or a worn/scratched vinyl), then I could see that the CBS CD might sound impressive. That drop out on the first chorus of "Sweet Virginia" is so bad, though, that it kind of kills the CD for me.

I still prefer the Virgin remaster if it's on CD.

Nothing beats the original vinyl release, but the Virgin remaster on CD is pretty close, imo.

Reviews are touchy things to write. It is not easy to digest a work and put it in context without the benefit of time and hindsight. Few can do it well. I can think of many works of art that stand the test of time better than their reviews. But in this case I think a song by song analysis misses the point. Like Sgt. Pepper, the mystery and appeal of Exile lies in the production, in its sound, in the sometimes dense layers of instruments and voices, in the the pushing of the recording levels. It is a product of the studio. More than the lyrics or the playing it is the production that makes this record extraordinary. The impact of the album is greater than its individual parts. For many reasons it would be an impossible recording to duplicate. The review flirts with a point, but does not directly say it: There is a sense of conclusion in Exile. The band had reached the top of the mountain. Now where to go?

"since individually the cuts seem to stand quite well. Only when they're taken together, as a lump sum of four sides, is their impact blunted."

I like this line, since most feel the complete opposite today!

I loved this album from the moment I bought it (early 80s, as a young teen). At the time, I didnt realize it was considered a classic, but it was one of my favorites from day 1.

I also loved it from the get go and just kept finding more to like about it as the years go by. One of my favorite things to do is take it on vacation and listen to the whole damn thing on headphones. It's hard to pry it apart from the 1972 tour. Only the Some Girls tour of '78 comes as close to being integrated visually and aurally with the album being promoted. People forget that Exile is just so rock and roll. The horns, which are everywhere, harken back to the 50s. So dark, so wonderfully sleazy.

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DandelionPowderman
Nothing beats the original vinyl release, but the Virgin remaster on CD is pretty close, imo.

Absolutely. I went through a couple copies of Exile, although the jackets wore out a little faster than the vinyl records did. When Virgin remastered their catalogue I was extremely pleased with Exile as well as the everything up to Undercover - they sounded fresh after all those years of scratchy worn out vinyl records.


This is absolutely whack though:

The album begins with "Rocks Off," a proto-typical Stones' opener whose impact is greatest in its first 15 seconds. Kicked off by one of Richards' patented guitar scratchings, a Jagger aside and Charlie's sharp crack, it moves into the kind of song the Stones have built a reputation on, great choruses and well-judged horn bursts, painlessly running you through the motions until you're out of the track and into the album. But if that's one of its assets, it also stands for one of its deficiencies — there's nothing distinctive about the tune. Stones' openers of the past have generally served to set the mood for the mayhem to follow; this one tells you that we're in for nothing new.

It was considered "a proto-typical Stones' opener" then??? What, because Brown Sugar was their only kick ass rockin' album opening tune of any of their previous LPs and so now it's "a proto-typical Stones' opener"? That is ABSURD!

Rocks Off SHOULD have been a single! It certainly wasn't "painlessly running you through the motions" - to me it's you've got to listen to it again and again and again - it's one of those songs. I wish there was a 60 minute version of it. The horns are brilliant, as are the choruses and all the backing vocals, the tight underlying chugging guitars - exceptionally tight, clear, held back and calm yet... chugging - are, sorry to use such a word, GENIUS. Certainly the epitome of Keith's rhythm style and playing. For me, the "impact" isn't "greatest in its first 15 seconds" - it's probably that first chorus. Or when the first verse starts, how the music has a tiny bit of heave to it. Or when it goes into the 'what's'a matter with the boy' is certainly impact. All of those changes leading to the choruses. The horns are certainly a impact. It's all got impact.

How is there nothing distinctive about the tune? If someone didn't have any of their albums and heard this song knowing Doo Doo Doo Doo from hearing it on the radio they might think it's on the same album or a single or... what, I dunno, just very distinctive I think. It's a fantastic opening track and certainly sets the tone for the album - SLEAZE.

Live it never really worked well. It's a great album song, a great studio work. Live it misses the heaving that goes on, those little pauses in the snare towards the end, how the rhythm rolls over on itself or stutter-steps. It reveals why studio albums or recordings or songs can be the best version of a song. And this one is VERY distinctive.

Dude was way off the mark. Criminal. Unforgiveable.

"In that light, Exile on Main Street is not just another album, a two-month binge for the rack-jobbers and then onto whoever's up next."

This is another example of New York @#$%& over-intellectualizing something. Kaye (and Lou Reed) are just college boys who got swept up into rock. Very boring.

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24FPS

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JC21769
Interesting to read 40 years later. Do any of you guys know what year/when Exile started to be considered the bands best?

It took the lukewarm reception to GHS, the expectations but letdown of IORR, followed by the mixed bag of Black & Blue, to really end their early legacy and make people look backward. And then Love You Live, excepting the Toronto side, solidified the feeling that they weren't capable of the heights any longer. People began to appreciate Mick Taylor. When Some Girls rolled out it was seen as a small triumph, not great, but at least it was an enjoyable, coherent album that had an overall vibe. Then when Emotional Rescue came out, the greatness was gone again.

Tattoo You was fantastic, but most didn't like the first side, after Start Me Up, and the knowledgable realized the great second side was from their past. The Undercover album cemented their doom. And of course Dirty Work was seen as possibly their last LP. Steel Wheels showed them rallying for the last time before the pointlessness of the post Wyman era. Pick your point to get on the train and say, "Best new album since Exile". Any knowing fan just scoffed at such comparisons.

I always liked Exile. There were a few minor songs but they were good blenders into better songs. Their absolute best non-single Stones song is Rocks Off. A masterpiece. "The sunshine bores the daylights out of me...."

Interesting post, thanks. I never likes side one on TY (except Slave, and maybe T&A), what was the opinion back then?

RED HOT CARPET - Interesting post, thanks. I never likes side one on TY (except Slave, and maybe T&A), what was the opinion back then?[/quote]

Well, let's find out. Here's Rolling Stone magazine 9 years later and their review:

By Debra Rae Cohen
August 24, 1981

For too many years it's seemed almost impossible for the Rolling Stones to make an album that hasn't involved — at least partially — the problem of being the Rolling Stones. This difficulty dogged them throughout the Seventies — it's part of the responsibility of having lasted so long, I guess — and they responded to both it and their audience's need for constant redefinition with snideness (who wants to be told that "It's Only Rock 'n Roll"?), subterfuge and, often, a nearly total lack of grace. Sheltered from everyday concerns (the concerns that sing the blues), the Stones hid behind cynical denunciations of meaning, a pose that transformed everything — money, girls and ultimately the music — into so much disposable scenery. Musically, it meant grafting unwarranted au courant attitudes onto the dependable drive of the rhythm section. Lyrically, it signified glorying in distance and turning stances, slogans and promises into false currency.

From today's viewpoint, much of the last decade consisted of camouflage — camouflage for an essential loss of nerve, an unwillingness to be seen unguarded for the length of an LP, or even a tune. But those years are over now, decisively, and with the triumphant release of Tattoo You, they seem shabby and sad. Just when we might finally have lost patience, the new record dances (not prances), rocks (not jives) onto the scene, and the Rolling Stones are back again, with a matter-of-fact acceptance of their continued existence — and eventual mortality — that catches Pete Townshend's philosophical maunderings in its headlights and runs them down. Tattoo You doesn't address the subject of maturity, or deny its onset, in a burst of satyriasis. Instead, maturity serves as the backdrop for rockers with real momentum and love songs with real objects, beginning with "Start Me Up," the catchiest Stones single in ages. "You make a grown man cry," Mick Jagger sings amid a clatter of handclaps and Charlie Watts' precision swing, almost as if he hadn't spent half his life trying to hold back the clock.

That same thread of reasoned recognition runs through the entire album, as though a decade of posturing had somehow been digested into fuel for moving ahead. Tattoo You is a compact, unified statement — despite the fact that some of its tracks (or segments of them) reportedly date back several years. This unity is partly the work of Bob Clearmountain, who mixed the finished tracks and gave them his characteristic vacuum-packed clarity (you could bounce a quarter off each of Watts' rim shots). Mostly, though, it sounds like the Stones simply decided it was time to challenge themselves again. Why else sign up jazz great Sonny Rollins as a session saxophonist? Rollins plays on only three of Tattoo You's cuts, yet his gutbucket sagacity sets the tone for the whole LP. He even turns "Slave," a standard Stones blues jam, into something searing and passionate by establishing a level for the rest of the musicians to match. In "Neighbors," Rollins' solo has the full-bodied sound of classic R&B — always about to go over the edge.

Raucous as a rent party, "Neighbors" is typical of the way the Stones use their past for present-day fodder. "Neighbors, have I got neighbors," moans Jagger, going on to accuse them of "saxophone playing, groaning and straining" and attempting to steal his woman — all of the things you'd expect if you had the Rolling Stones living next door. Such self-mocking allows the Stones to get away with the lyric's do-unto-others truism by putting themselves in the other person's place. It's also part of Tattoo You's surprising humanism, a welcome lack of contempt that's nowhere so evident as in the tunes that deal with women. The Philly-soul falsetto of "Tops" acknowledges that "every man has the same come-on" without faulting the man for trying (a trace of sadness here, maybe) or the woman for believing him. "Black Limousine" is as much a lament for the halcyon days of a relationship as it is a memory of glittering innocence. Even Keith Richards' "Little T & A" (full of wonderful chordal soloing and Richards' usual @#$%&-me-honey drawl) isn't immune: the place could be anywhere at all, but the girl is one of a kind.

Tattoo You's finale, "Waiting on a Friend," sums up the record's notions of love, loss and acceptance: "Making love and breaking hearts/It is a game for youth/But I'm not waiting on a lady/I'm just waiting on a friend." Filled with attractive ambiguities and intimations of mutual dependency, the song is a celebration of maturity. "I need someone I can cry to/I need someone to protect," sings Jagger, and Rollins' sax picks up a calypso flavor, melodic and transcendent, at the end, as if the loved one had come into view.

Are the Rolling Stones fooling me with all this? I don't think so. Am I fooling myself? I hope not. I do know that the vocal blend in "No Use in Crying" and the way that Mick Jagger drops from falsetto to full voice in "Worried About You" have the instant impact of a lover's touch — a strength that means far more than a mere return to form. I think it means that the Stones have settled magnificently into middle age, and that such an adjustment has given them back a power they long ago relinquished. This is especially clear in "Heaven," a paean to physical love that glorifies tenderness, not sweat and excess. It's an odd, hymnlike number, more reminiscent of Television than of anything by the Stones. In part, "Heaven" is a lover's talisman, a promise of protection: "Nothing will harm you/Nothing will stand in your way." Like all of Tattoo You, it begs the listener's trust. And, for the first time in years, the Rolling Stones deserve it. Deserve it in spades.

Here's some Bill Wyman comments on Exile from an interview in Bass Player Magazine:

By Elliot Stephen Cohen


“That the album ever came out at all was a complete miracle,” marvels Bill Wyman of the 1972 landmark Rolling Stones album Exile On Main St. Though critics initially overlooked the band’s provocative blend of American roots music with Brit-style rock (“Everybody slagged it off,” Wyman bitterly recalls), the album has since gained recognition as one of the Stones’ most potent statements. This year, Universal has re-mastered the seminal double album, reissuing it with a blistering batch of bonus tracks.

As Wyman intimates, making the album wasn’t easy. The band had fled England to escape the nation’s harsh tax laws (93 percent at the time), and its members were in deep financial trouble. As the album’s title suggests, the boys felt exiled from their homeland, and slithered off to the friendlier confines of southern France. It was there that they recorded the bulk of Exile in the sweltering basement of Keith Richards’s rented Côte d’Azur mansion in Villefranchesur- Mer, a previous Gestapo headquarters from World War II.

With the assistance of producer Jimmy Miller and 21-year old engineer Andy Johns (whose resume already included three Led Zeppelin albums), the Stones created 18 tracks that perfectly assimilated their fascination with older American music styles—blues, rock, gospel and country—into what has since been hailed as the Rolling Stones ultimate masterpiece.

While previous complaints about the original release stemmed largely from its awful sound quality and abysmal mix (rushed by Johns at Jagger’s insistence), the new release overseen by producer Don Was puts a new sheen on things, while retaining the spirit and grit of the original.


Were you asked to do any new overdubs on the newly remastered Exile, as Keith, Mick Jagger, and Mick Taylor did?

No, and neither was Charlie—we didn’t have to. [Co-producer] Don Was was full of compliments about our playing in an article I recently read, which was very nice.

One of the problems on the original album was that your bass was buried in the mix.

Well, they’d always sink me way deep. There would always be separate mixes, and then they’d argue about which ones to use. I didn’t get involved, but yeah, I used to get fairly disappointed when you couldn’t bloody well hear my bass. But they wanted more of Keith’s guitar, or whatever. I suppose I just lived with it.

I also didn’t always get the proper credits I deserved, either. When you read the back of the Exile album, it says someone else is playing bass on songs when it was actually me. Mick would always get the credits wrong, and it was too late to change them. So that was annoying, as well.

Were the recording sessions as chaotic as the legends about them are?

In the studio, we just worked weekdays, and we broke on Saturdays and Sundays. So, on the weekends, if Keith was alive, he would mess about with the guys that were staying in the area, like [saxophonist] Bobby Keyes, [trumpet player] Jimmy Price, and [producer] Jimmy Miller. [Engineer] Andy Johns was living there, so if they felt like going in to record, they could. Keith went in one weekend and did “Happy” with Jimmy playing drums, and it turned out quite nice, actually. It was quite a pleasant surprise coming in on Monday morning, and hearing it being played back. [Note: Miller had previously played drums on “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” and did the famous cowbell intro on “Honky Tonk Women.”]

What was the studio setup like?

The sessions there were a complete nightmare. The situation where we were recording was a joke, being down in some sort of cellar. Condensation poured down the walls, so you had to be stripped to the waist. The horns were in the kitchen up the corridor. There was no cameras or mics; no direct contact with the mobile studio outside. You had to go up the stairs to talk to anyone. My bass was under the stairs outside one bloody room or another.

In what ways did the primitive recording conditions affect you?

The unfortunate thing was that if I wasn’t there when something was being recorded somebody else played on the original track. So either Keith would lay down a bass with Charlie, or else Mick Taylor would. Of course, when I came back and the bass was already there, what was the point in me overdubbing if it worked well? If Keith or Mick or Mick Taylor weren’t there for something, they were always able to overdub their instruments later. That was the inconvenience of being part of the band’s rhythm section. If Charlie wasn’t there and Jimmy played drums, then Charlie could never be on that track, like the other guys could.

What was a typical recording session like?

It was really stupid, but even more stupid was that nobody ever turned up the same time. On a Monday, Mick Taylor, Charlie, and I might arrive. Keith would be upstairs sleeping, never appearing at the session. We’d all traveled from God knows where. Charlie was five hours away from where he stayed at my house. Piano player Nicky Hopkins often stayed by me, and when you’d get there, you’d find out that Mick Jagger had gone off partying with some local celebrities. So, we’d just mess about, and then the next time, Mick Taylor wouldn’t be there. It would just be me, Keith and Charlie, and Mick Jagger wouldn’t turn up again, because he’d gone to Paris or someplace to buy rings for his wedding [to Bianca Perez Morena de Macias]. Then the day after that, Mick would turn up with Charlie and me, but Keith wouldn’t be there, and neither would Mick Taylor. It was like that day after day. It was bollocks—it’s a miracle that record ever came out, because it was all done in bits. The whole band was hardly ever there at the same time. It was really madness.

Being that Keith’s heroin consumption was quite heavy at the time, how on top of things was he?

I shouldn’t be talking about this, but a typical example of things was that you’d break for the weekend. You’d finish the session at like ten in the morning, drive all the way back through the crowds, going to the beaches, get home about midday, have some lunch, go to bed, and then on Sunday there’s be a phone call saying, “Um, some people broke into Keith’s house when everyone was watching television and stole all the guitars and a saxophone. People just came in and cleaned out all the instruments. [Note: Reportedly, drug dealers to whom Keith owed money were responsible for the heist.] Absurd things like that were going on, and it was just a complete joke. But being that is was Keith’s house, he was quite happy to work at any odd hours he cared to. We were all obliged to being there when it suited him more than anybody else.

You’ve stated in the past that one reason you stayed away from many of the Exile sessions—including those for “Tumbling Dice” and “Happy”—was the drug use, which you didn’t want to be around.

I suppose. There were problems there that stayed with us right straight through the ’70s, and as I was not the least interested in taking drugs, but suffered the same consequences as the others—airport checks, etc.—and I wasn’t very happy about it. Everybody else got into problems. It was a real nightmare.

Bill was much less significant on Exile than on other Stones albums, so his comments have to be viewed in that context.

@ Redhotcarpet:

For years I liked side A on Tattoo You the most, but that has changed over the years.

I still love every song on side a, though. What's not to love on songs like Start Me Up, Hang Fire, Slave, Little T + A, Black Limousine and Neighbours?

However, the quiet side is packed with slower and hauntingly beautiful gems, imo. Sometimes Tops is my favourite, other times, Worried About You, Waiting On A Friend or Heaven.

Yep, I'm putting it on now, I get withdrawals



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 2013-01-18 10:48 by DandelionPowderman.

Since I bought the Exile Album on Vinyl in 1972, I always loved to listen to it and still do. Thanks to Jimmy Miller the RS found the right spirit down in the basement in the south of France. Its one of my favorite RS albums and seeing the RS live in 1973 was awesome.

+ in LA...

1972-1973=

I have an immense collection I can upload, but my efforts so far have seen the results appearing quite big! I understand news articles (original 60s & 70's) need to be clear so viewers can see, but is their a recommended scan size for magazines and papers?

I read the review/article till the paragraph that begins with "through a spectral community alchemy, ..."

I was only 2 years old at the time; there was a lot, a lot of drug going around, not only on the musicians' side

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drbryant
Bill was much less significant on Exile than on other Stones albums, so his comments have to be viewed in that context.

How so? That he had a different name because Mick invented other bass players? Did you read what he said? What he did has nothing to do with the context of anything other than obviously it was a nightmare doing that album. Other statements have supported that mind set. And seeing that only a portion of what they did in France was used for the album, that is the context you need to remember, not who did/didn't-do what on the album.



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 2013-01-20 20:49 by GasLightStreet.