Some Girls sessions -- Pathe Marconi Paris 1977-78



ROCKMAN

Some Girls sessions -- Pathe Marconi Paris 1977-78



ROCKMAN

Some Girls sessions -- Pathe Marconi Paris January - March 1978 …. Photo Jean Pigozzi



ROCKMAN

Some Girls sessions -- Pathe Marconi Paris -- January - March 1978 …. Photo Jean Pigozzi



ROCKMAN

Ronnie Wood -- Some Girls sessions -- Pathe Marconi Paris -- January - March 1978 …. Photo Jane Rose



ROCKMAN

Pathe Marconi Paris -- circa 1982 …………………………….. Photo Jane Rose



ROCKMAN



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 2019-10-14 06:17 by Rockman.

Beautiful SG shots

…. Thanks Big Daddy ….



ROCKMAN

Quote
Rockman


Some Girls sessions -- Pathe Marconi Paris -- January - March 1978 …. Photo Jane Rose

Thanks for all the great studio pics Rockman!! This pic here looks a little bit later than the Some Girls sessions, just judging by Keith's hairstyle here which I don't think he had until the latter part of 1978.

I love that they basically dress the same way on stage as they do in the studio. Heck, Keith probably picks out the right set of striped trousers and flowing scarf just to pick up the paper in the morning. They *always* look like rock stars.
I love these pics!

Big Enough - Talk Is Cheap sessions --
Hit Factory New York, November-December 1987 --- Photo Jane Rose



ROCKMAN

This pic here looks a little bit later than the Some Girls sessions

Wow yeah Jody …. my mstuff up …not finkin ...
Copy paste from shot above it ... musta been dozin' on auto-pilot …



ROCKMAN

Rockee.......I've waited over forty years for snaps and you pull through!

.... hey yeah shattered .. ya come to the right place
.....see what other Some Gals shots we can find for ya ....

you know how that Muddy Waters song goes don't ya ...

You need meat, go to the market
You need bread, try the bakery
You need love, don't go no further
Just come on home to me .......

.....................Willie Dixon - Don't Go No Further



ROCKMAN

A Special Report, Part 1: The Holy Bee Does NOT Recommend — The Rolling Stones in the ’80s
…with one exception.

When asked who’s the greatest band the world’s ever seen, I automatically answer “the Beatles.” When asked the slightly different question of who is my favorite band, I would tend to say the same thing. But the more I think about it, the more I realize that deep in my heart, my favorite band is the Rolling Stones.

And the reason I hesitate to admit that is due almost entirely to the damage they did to their reputation because of the quality of material they released (or let escape) in the 1980s. The Beatles broke up before they had to contend with the ’80s.


The Rolling Stones, 1980
Before the ’80s as a decade had receded far enough to gain historical perspective, rock fans always pointed to the trio of albums after 1972’s epic Exile On Main St as the band’s artistic nadir. But in an entry a while back, the Holy Bee mounted a spirited defense of Goats Head Soup (1973), It’s Only Rock and Roll (1974), and Black and Blue (1976) as artistically valid and quite worthy entries in the Stones discography, if not really at the level of their true classics. Far worse was to come after Black and Blue…

…but not just yet. 1978’s Some Girls was immediately lifted to the Rolling Stones Top Shelf to nest alongside Sticky Fingers and the like, and has managed to stay there. 1980’s Emotional Rescue was a swing and a miss (maybe more of a foul tip), hopefully just an aberration. They righted the ship with 1981’s Tattoo You. Its monster single “Start Me Up” dominated the radio that fall, and the album as a whole is generally considered a “near-classic.” In many people’s eyes, it is the last truly good Rolling Stones album. (There may be a secret reason to its success. Read on.)

Then came Undercover (1983). And Dirty Work (1986), and suddenly the decade was a bust. People who continue to pick on poor old Goats Head Soup out of habit probably haven’t even heard these things. They’ve been swept under the rug and forgotten. They are totally soulless, full of empty ’80s flash, and were the product of a band on the verge of falling apart.

No one liked those albums much even at the time (though they initially sold well), but 1989’s Steel Wheels? It was hailed as a masterful artistic comeback. Rolling Stone magazine gave it a slobbering four-and-a-half star review. (Not really a surprise there, given the magazine’s unfortunate habit of fellating dinosaurs. Still, I won’t cancel the subscription I’ve had since 1991.) Unfortunately, Steel Wheels’ uber-trendy, late-80s production has stood the test of time about as well as parachute pants. When everyone got over their euphoria that the band survived its near-breakup, Steel Wheels plummeted in prestige, and it’s now settled pretty firmly near the bottom of the canon.

So the Stones’ 1980s output consisted of two mediocre albums that aged poorly, two total disasters…and Tattoo You, which everyone liked. The possible secret to its success? It wasn’t widely known at the time, but Tattoo You was entirely pieced together from 1970s outtakes, when inspiration was running a little higher.


At work in the Pathe-Marconi Studios, c. 1977
In earlier recording sessions, the Stones did rack up their share of outtakes and unreleased material here and there. But engineer Chris Kimsey, with whom the Stones began working in 1977, always kept the tapes rolling. Any musical performance in the studio, be it a false start, a tentative run-though, or an almost-ready final draft, was recorded and meticulously stored away. The band and Kimsey labored for months at the rambling old EMI Pathe-Marconi Studios in suburban Paris (the actual location was Boulogne-Billancourt), compiling the material that would comprise Some Girls, and leaving lots of stuff unused in varying states of completion. 1979’s Emotional Rescue sessions also produced a backlog of songs for the vault. This practice would come in handy a few years down the line.


Let’s start our examination of the Stones’ decade-long tumble from greatness by looking at the heights from which they fell. Some Girls (May 1978) shot to #1 in the Billboard charts, and sold in the neighborhood of seven million copies. Kicked off by the disco jam “Miss You,” highlights included “Shattered,” a multi-layered, serpentine proto-rap about urban decay, my favorite Stones power ballad “Beast of Burden,” and one of guitarist and band co-leader Keith Richards’ best outlaw anthems, “Before They Make Me Run.” There’s also a trio of diamond-hard, speed demon rockers (“When the Whip Comes Down,” “Lies,” and “Respectable”) that veer into punk territory, offset by a gorgeously lazy, swinging take on the Temptations’ “Just My Imagination.” The slow, bluesy trance-rock of the title track and the country pastiche “Far Away Eyes,” with frontman Mick Jagger putting on an exaggerated Southern drawl, are kind of an acquired taste. Guest musicians and sidemen (always a Stones crutch) are kept to a minimum. Outsiders are limited to a few appearances by Faces keyboardist Ian MacLagan, King Crimson’s Mel Collins adding saxophone to “Miss You,” and the amazing blues harp of Sugar Blue on “Miss You” and the title track. Keith, going through the lengthy process of kicking a heroin habit, did not lead the guitar attack, and was mostly content to lay back and put down rhythmic color, his battered Telecaster usually fed through an MXR reverb-echo pedal, which became the signature sound of the ‘78-’81 Stones. The real six-string pyrotechnics were provided by “new guy” Ron “Woody” Wood, making his first appearance on record as a full-time Stone, following Brian Jones (’62-’69) and Mick Taylor (’69-’74) in the second guitar slot.

After riding the Some Girls wave, the band traveled to Compass Point Studios in the Bahamas to begin recording the follow-up in January of 1979. But despite the laid-back Caribbean atmosphere, inspiration did not strike. Perhaps they just weren’t ready, perhaps the tension growing between Jagger and Richards was affecting their work, but Emotional Rescue, intended to be a worthy sequel and companion piece to Some Girls, paled in comparison to its powerful predecessor.

They started work by looking over promising leftovers from the previous sessions. The rockabilly shuffle “Claudine,” which everyone in the band loved and which by all rights should have been a minor classic, was disqualified (again) for fear of legal action by its subject, French actress Claudine Longet (who was let off with a slap on the wrist for fatally shooting her boyfriend.) Ultimately, “Summer Romance” and “Where the Boys Go” were plucked off the shelf, at the expense of several arguably stronger tracks. (“Start Me Up” was right there, just waiting to be picked up.)

It seemed a promising start — two songs for the new album already in the can! The Stones got down to work on the remainder of the album, following their usual pattern: three or four separate batches of recording sessions, separated by long breaks and switching studios at least once, and a final round of overdubbing and mixing at yet another studio. They tended to write and arrange once sessions were underway, allowing the songs to develop organically and spontaneously, catching the vibe of the room and each other, for better or worse.

The Compass Point sessions in January and February yielded little usable material. This was not unusual, as the first session was almost always a kind of shakedown rehearsal. The Stones reconvened months later at the site of their earlier recording triumph, the Pathe-Marconi Studios in Paris. There they spent the summer and early fall grinding away at below-average songs in a tense and moody atmosphere. Although he was finally off heroin, Keith was not averse to any other controlled substance, and like many former heroin addicts, he substituted liquor. Copious amounts of cocaine were still on the menu as well. He was usually eagerly joined by Woody. Keith veered between being a boozy, unproductive zombie and a coked-up, manic taskmaster, staying up for four days running. As he forced the band through take after uninspired take, he would growl his frequent refrain “Nobody sleeps while I’m awake!” The more even-keeled and professional Mick was annoyed to no end. Bassist Bill Wyman was rumored to be quitting the band.

By the time of the last sessions at New York City’s Electric Lady Studios in November and December 1979, Mick and Keith were at each other’s throats over every minor detail of the final mix. Keith has speculated that Mick had gotten used to running the Stones’ affairs on his own while Keith was incapacitated by opiates in the mid-70s. When he finally got clean (or his version of clean), Mick was disinclined to share the power again.

The album hit shelves in June 1980, with a distinctive cover featuring photos taken by a thermo camera. The heat generated by the Stones’ faces on the sleeve was not always matched by the contents within. Despite some justified grumbling from music critics, the record-buying public gave the Stones another #1.


Emotional Rescue, 1980
Side one, track one is “Dance (Pt. 1).” Originally devised as a mostly-instrumental groove piece, the main riff was cooked up by Woody, who receives a rare co-writing credit. The lyrics are minimal (although Keith complained there were still too many.) Having successfully pulled off a very nimble semi-rap on “Shattered,” Mick continues to experiment with spoken-word segments, to varying degrees of success. On “Dance (Pt. 1),” it mostly comes out as a clumsy babble that opens the song, and immediately lowers expectations. But the track recovers, becoming one of Emotional Rescue’s high points — it does indeed have a great dance beat, its minimal chorus is catchy (aided by the backing vocals of reggae artist Max Romeo), the percussion by Santana drummer Michael Shrieve creates a hypnotic rhythm, and one of the Stone’s greatest sidemen, Bobby Keys, returns on sax after a multi-year absence.

The problems begin with the very next song, “Summer Romance,” one of the Some Girls outtakes. It’s easy to see why it was left off that album, as it sounds pretty much like the punky Some Girls fast numbers…only not as good, lacking the feral ferocity of something like “Lies.” The lyrics are a disaster, and the music is generic and predictable. Woody revealed a lot of songs were being arranged to this simplistic template around this time because Mick wanted to play rhythm guitar. “Send It to Me” is the album’s token reggae song, and it is thoroughly listless. The band clearly loves the genre, but their attempts at performing it were always ham-fisted.

Things perk up a little with “Let Me Go” — the Stones finally sound like the Stones on this track. Unlike the stiff, cookie-cutter “Summer Romance,” the music here breathes and motors along effortlessly. The lyrics hearken back to mid-60s cold-hearted blow-offs like “Out Of Time” and “Yesterday’s Papers.” Keith lets loose with a terrific solo, and the punchy beat is perfectly accentuated by guest percussionist Michael Shrieve (and if I make a point of praising a tambourine, you know it’s good.)

Hopes raised…then dashed. “Indian Girl” may be the worst Rolling Stones song…ever. The lyrics, sung by Mick in an earnest tremolo, are an attempt at writing a socially-conscious protest song about the plight of orphans caught in the crossfire of the Nicaraguan Revolution. This sort of thing was never the band’s strong suit, and they really put their foot in it here, with lines like “All the children were dead/Except for one girl who said/’Mr. Gringo please find my father…’” The music is mostly inoffensive, a basic acoustic country ramble with some Spanish flourishes on marimba, but when those totally tasteless mariachi horns come blaring in…no thanks.



“Where the Boys Go,” the second Some Girls leftover, is unsurprisingly another variation on the “Summer Romance” formula — a labored, short & fast, uh-oh-Mick’s-on-guitar number, and the amateur female vocals on the fade-out chorus (rumored to be Mick’s girlfriend Jerry Hall and Woody’s wife Jo) are an embarrassment. And just like almost every latter-day Stones album has a token reggae track, it will usually have a token blues track. “Down in the Hole” fulfills that role here, and does little else. The Stones have always been much more comfortable with the blues than with reggae, and they were able to toss this one off in two takes. Despite the return of Sugar Blue on harmonica, and some nice guitar work, this is filler.

Then…Emotional Rescue trots off to a surprisingly strong finish. The title track is essentially “Son of ‘Miss You’” (much as “Get Off My Cloud” was “Son of ‘Satisfaction’” back in ‘65). The same solid four-on-the-floor disco beat courtesy of drummer Charlie Watts, the same percolating bass from Bill, and Mick doing his best lascivious Jagger. Seductive falsetto, by turns domineering and pleading, and some faintly ridiculous spoken asides (“I’ll be your knight in shining armor…coming to your em-o-tional resssscue…”) It never lifts into the stratosphere the way “Miss You” does, and a lot of people, post disco-era, found the song pretty hard to take. I have a soft spot for it, and it’s having a bit of a revival. It was included on their 2013-14 tour, and people are starting to realize it’s a cool bit of campy fun.

“She’s So Cold” is one of two songs that made the cut from the initial Compass Point sessions. The lyrics come in bursts, all chattering desperation, the singer’s lust being repaid with the ice queen’s cold shoulder until he finally explodes in frustration — “She’s so goddamn cold!” Woody’s slide guitar winds around Keith’s muscular MXR-assisted rhythm like a sinew, and he also provides a few lines of tasty pedal steel. “She’s So Cold” was released as a single, so I guess it can’t really be called a “deep cut,” but it’s one of my favorite “minor” Stones songs.

The other Compass Point track closes out the album, and features Keith on lead vocals. “All About You” was the first in a long line of Keith’s “slow jams” that tended to appear late in an album’s second half — a very minimal melody that wraps around his seductive talk-singing, spare arrangements featuring a few jazzy horn bleats, and bleary, phased guitar that all combine to create a three-in-the-morning vibe. The lyrics of “All About You” were interpreted to be about the bitter end of Keith’s decade-long relationship with Anita Pallenberg. “Well, if you call this a life/Why must I spend mine with you?…I’m so sick and tired/Of hanging around dogs like you…You want, you want, you want, you want/You get, you get, you get, you get…So how come I’m still in love with you?”

Even at the time, Keith admitted if the song was about anything, it was about Mick.


Taking a break from promoting ER, NYC, July 1980
Once the promotional work for the album was done, Mick flew off on a long vacation in Morocco, informing the disappointed band there would be no 1980 tour, just as there was no 1979 tour. He sent the bad news via telex after he was long gone.

But touring was the band’s bread and butter…they all knew for certain they had to get back out on the road some time in 1981. The other certainty: a new album was needed to tour behind, with enough big, catchy songs to please a stadium audience when sprinkled among the Stones’ road-tested staples. They knew Emotional Rescue lacked that visceral punch, plus it would be well over a year old by the time the tour eventually kicked off, and two by the time it finished. And frankly, the band didn’t like it much anyway. (“Let Me Go” would be the only Emotional Rescue song that found a permanent spot in the ‘81-’82 tour setlist. “She’s So Cold” was added intermittently.)

But no one really wanted to go into the studio and whip up a new batch of songs. Keith was a full-blown alcoholic, rarely seen without a bottle of Jack Daniel’s tucked into the crook of his arm. And Woody was going down the dark path of freebasing rock cocaine, skipping meetings and rehearsals, and coming to the brink of getting fired. Bill and Charlie shrugged and retreated to their country estates, waiting to be summoned back to work. Bill was rumored to be quitting the band.


Chris Kimsey
It was up to Chris Kimsey to save the day. The enterprising recording engineer knew there was a vast amount of unreleased material ripe for the picking, and with maximum ingenuity on his part, and minimal effort on the band’s part, he could assemble what would be presented as the new Rolling Stones album for 1981, and no one would be the wiser. When Mick returned from his holiday, he and Kimsey spent the late summer of 1980 sorting through literally hundreds of unused recordings. Some of the artifacts were practically complete, some merely promising fragments. They culled what they thought had the most possibilities, and presented the tapes to the rest of the Stones when everyone met up again at Pathe-Marconi in mid-October.

For the next four weeks, the Rolling Stones plunged into polishing up the unearthed songs. Some received minimal overdubs and were deemed complete, some needed a little more elbow grease, and at least one was treated as a demo for an entirely new recording (“Neighbors”). When the band wrapped up this speedy (for them) process and scattered to the four winds again, the basic tracks were finished, but lacked vocals and a final polish. Once again, the project was left to Mick and Kimsey to shepherd. In April and May of 1981, a sheaf of lyric sheets in hand, Mick recorded all the main vocals in a freezing Paris warehouse, rented on the cheap, using the Stones’ famous “Mighty Mobile” portable studio equipment. Kimsey remembers seeing icy breath coming out of Mick’s mouth. Mick himself remembers cutting some vocal tracks in the warehouse’s janitorial closet. A few days in June saw a final round of sessions at Atlantic Studios in New York to apply the finishing touches — backing vocals, various bits and pieces, and grace notes like the sax of Sonny Rollins and the percussion of Michael Carabello. The final sprinkle of pixie dust was a crisp, uniform mix by Bob Clearmountain designed to disguise the album’s patchwork origins. And voila! a spanking-new Stones album concocted using half the man-hours it usually took.

The album was released on the last day of August 1981. And here’s my “Holy Bee Recommends” within a “Does NOT Recommend” essay — I really enjoy Tattoo You…and so did millions of others. Another #1!


Tattoo You, 1981
The charge is led by “Start Me Up.” Just as people remember Tattoo You as the “last good Stones album” (I always defend Voodoo Lounge as my choice for that spot, usually to blank stares), “Start Me Up” is the “last great Stones anthem.” It dates from the 1975 Black and Blue sessions, and it was a reggae song at the time. You can still hear the song’s reggae origins in the stutter-stop main riff. It was re-worked as a rock song during the ‘77 Some Girls sessions, but didn’t make the cut.

The tempo speeds up still further with the hard, fast “Hang Fire,” also originally recorded in 1977. The new lyrics decry the state of Thatcher’s Britain, all bad economy and low morale. “Nobody ever works, nothing ever gets done…I’m on the dole, we ain’t for hire…Say what the hell…” It’s a guitar tour-de-force from Keith, and we get a little piano from original Stones pianist Ian Stewart, whose appearances on record were getting rarer. “Slave” dates from 1975, which explains why the organ of Billy Preston and percussion of Ollie E. Brown are in the mix. A grinding funk work-out with minimal lyrics, Keith is the sole guitarist and provides the growling, dirty riffage, while the Who’s Pete Townshend chants along on backing vocals. A 1981 addition is the saxophone of Sonny Rollins.


Keith takes the microphone spotlight for his devotional love song to his new girlfriend, model Patti Hansen — “Little T&A.” I guess she was flattered, as they married in 1983 (and remain married to this day.) The song itself dates from the early ‘79 Compass Point sessions, and is a great chunk of retro rock & roll. The blues song “Black Limousine” originated from 1974’s It’s Only Rock and Roll sessions, but Kimsey picked a ‘77 version as the basis for the final cut. It has an undeniable spark of energy and inspiration (unlike “Down in the Hole”). Woody’s late-addition guitar solo earned him another co-writing credit, and Mick doubles the main riff on harmonica. “Neighbors” is another up-tempo rock & roll number, the bare bones of which date from the Emotional Rescue sessions in the summer of ‘79. But it was entirely re-recorded in the fall of 1980, with Mick’s new lyrics added the following spring, inspired by the trials and tribulations of the poor souls who lived near Keith in his Manhattan apartment circa 1979-80. He was evicted (or almost evicted, memories are hazy) for blasting reggae on his massive stereo at ear-splitting volume at all hours.

The first half of Tattoo You burns by — four kick-ass rock songs, an uptempo Chicago blues, and a blistering slab of dancefloor funk. The second half is the “slow side.” This is where the album eases off the gas, settles down, lights some candles, etc.


“Worried About You” is one of the Stones’ great lost treasures (or nearly lost — it has been revived for several tours in the 2000s-2010s), a soulful ballad originally intended for Black and Blue. The guitar of Wayne Perkins, a big presence on those sessions as a possible Mick Taylor replacement, is retained in the final mix. (Woody eventually got the job.) The song makes good use of Mick’s falsetto and Keith’s underrated harmonies. Mick Taylor himself is prominently heard towards the end of “Tops,” a slow-burner in the mold of late-period Motown or “Philly Soul.” The track is one of the deepest dives Mick and Kimsey took, dating from the fall of 1972.

The moody, atmospheric “Heaven,” with its breathy vocalizations and Eastern feel (similar to “Moonlight Mile”) has mysterious origins. The whole conceit of Tattoo You was that it was assembled from earlier material, but no one knows where “Heaven” came from. It is likely that it is the only song composed specifically for Tattoo You, during the fall 1980 overdub sessions. Keith still couldn’t deal with Mick for very long, and left Paris quite a bit earlier than everyone else. Lord knows where Woody was at any given time. One night, the lonely little trio of Mick, Charlie, and Bill concocted “Heaven,” with Bill laying down a bed of synths and Kimsey kicking in with some electric piano. Improvised on the spot? Based on an older idea? No one remembers, but the results are very pretty. It is followed by the Emotional Rescue outtake “No Use in Crying,” to my ears the album’s lone weak spot. Nothing is specifically wrong with it, it’s just another soul ballad, slightly pedestrian. Anything it does, “Worried About You” or “Tops” does better.


The album closes with a second dusted-off ‘72 Goats Head Soup relic, and what many consider its second-strongest song (after the mighty “Start Me Up”). The powerful ode to friendship, “Waiting on a Friend,” is another number widely believed to be about the Jagger-Richards relationship. This interpretation seems to be confirmed by the song’s sentimental video. Mick waits on an East Village stoop for the arrival of Keith, and after a friendly embrace, they head for a nearby bar for a leisurely jam with the rest of the band. I’m not a jazz guy, but I’m told Sonny Rollins is one of the greats, and his sax solo here is considered one of the most sublime moments ever provided by a Stones guest musician. (I’m partial to Al Perkins’ pedal steel solo on “Torn and Frayed” myself. Again, not a jazz guy.)


The U.S. leg of their world tour kicked off in September, and Tattoo You proved its worth as concert fodder — “Hang Fire,” “Neighbors,” “Little T&A,” “Black Limousine,” and especially “Start Me Up” kept audiences on their feet. “Waiting on a Friend” allowed everyone to catch their breath. (“Tops” was the only choice that didn’t really work in concert — it was dropped after a couple of appearances.) The tour was a massive success, re-confirmed the Stones’ status as rock gods, and spawned the concert film Let’s Spend the Night Together directed by Hal Ashby (Harold and Maude, Shampoo, Being There, etc.), though Bill was rumored to be quitting the band.

By the time they came off the road in mid-summer of 1982, Mick and Keith had reached enough of a detente to begin working on new material together. The bonhomie displayed in the “Waiting on a Friend” video was largely a put-on, but they were willing to be professional. However, within a year, there was a nasty surprise waiting to be sprung that would threaten to end the Jagger-Richards relationship, and the Rolling Stones, permanently…

TO BE CONTINUED.

[holybeeofephesus.com]

++++++++

A Special Report, Part 2: The Holy Bee Does NOT Recommend — The Rolling Stones in the ’80s
October 1982…The Rolling Stones owed Atlantic Records one more album on the deal they inked way back in ‘71. The sooner they knocked it out, the sooner they could cash in on a new deal with another label that had deeper pockets. To facilitate the process, for the first time Mick and Keith demoed a complete, all-new batch of songs ahead of time, instead of slowly building up the compositions during the sessions themselves.

The following month, the Stones picked up the tools of their trade again in what they’ve considered their home base studio since 1977 — EMI’s Pathe-Marconi, Paris. Mick Jagger and Keith Richards would be self-producing under the moniker “the Glimmer Twins” as they had been for several years, aided by engineer Chris Kimsey. Kimsey would now be officially elevated to the status of co-producer. A new face in the studio was Chuck Leavell, a virtuoso keyboard player from Georgia and former member of the Allman Brothers Band. Leavell became a fixture at every Stones session and concert tour from that point until this very day. Unfortunately, Leavell’s timing in joining the Stones family was not the best. The autumn French weather wasn’t the only thing that was frigid. The negative atmosphere of the Emotional Rescue sessions intensified — the band was stressed-out, ill-tempered, and uncommunicative. Bill was rumored to be quitting the band.

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Mick and Chuck Leavell

Still, the show must go on. Millions of dollars hung in the balance. Mick was at the height of his club-hopping and trend-chasing, latching on to whatever was newest and shiniest in the music scene, to the disgust of traditionalist Keith. Keith’s disinterest in the developing style of the new album led to minimal input on his part, resulting in it being totally dominated by Jagger’s vision.

The basic tracks were wrapped up in Paris by December 16 — a new speed record for the normally lackadaisical group (likely because they couldn’t stand being in the same room together for long). Then habit re-established itself as things slowed down and the Stones studio-hopped for the next several months…overdubs at Compass Point in the Bahamas over the spring of ‘83, then final touches and mixing at the Hit Factory in New York through August. As usual, a clutch of guest musicians was invited to contribute, most notably the Jamaican rhythm section of Sly Dunbar and Robbie Shakespeare, and a veritable parade of percussionists (including Dunbar, Martin Ditcham, and Moustapha Ciesse & Brahms Coundoul of the Afro-jazz group Xalam).

Undercover was released in November 1983, with a titillating sleeve featuring a vintage nude model, her “bikini area” strategically covered with what appear to be stickers. (On first edition pressings they really were stickers, and you can bet those things are worth a fortune now, peeled or unpeeled.)

Rolling-Stones-Undercover-Album-Cover-web-optimised-820
Undercover, 1983

The first song face-plants right out of the gate. “Undercover (of the Night)” tells a semi-coherent tale of political violence in South America. The vocals are more of a narration, and have no flow. The aggressive beat is over-populated with a cacophony of percussive noisemakers, including Sly Dunbar on Simmons electric drum pads, which ought to be a capital offense on a Stones song. Charlie gamely does what he can on his traditional drum kit, but he’s swamped. Kimsey opens up the Pandora’s box of synthesized, antiseptic ’80s production, with none of the grit that signifies a good Stones song. It’s a problem that will dog the whole album.

The second track, a Chuck Berry-inspired rocker called “She Was Hot,” is for the most part very enjoyable…but there’s a whiff of over-calculation. The individual elements are solid — the lyrics, the vocals, the guitars, and especially the drums (Charlie’s on fire) all do their jobs at the service of a light-hearted ‘50s-style throwback. But as a whole it feels like it was assembled from instructions. A color-by-numbers “My First Rock & Roll Song” kit. Up next is “Tie You Up (The Pain of Love),” which may be the one Undercover song I can enjoy without reservation. A saucy blast of thumping, sexed-up funk, the kinky BDSM theme may not be everyone’s cup of lube, but it’s the one moment on the album where the band breaks out and sounds loose. Keith’s turn on lead vocals follows with “Wanna Hold You.” Coming after “She Was Hot” and “Tie You Up,” this concludes the album’s brief segment of listenability. Although it’s a treat — who doesn’t love Keef? — it’s merely a spirited retread of Tattoo You’s raunch-rock masterpiece “Little T&A.”

“Feel On Baby” is Undercover’s reggae song. Emotional Rescue’s “Send it to Me” sounds like The Best of Bob Marley compared to this big heap of nothing that drags on for over five soul-killing minutes. The clattering, echoey percussion introduced on “Undercover (of the Night)” and slathered over everything is really starting to wear out its welcome.

Punctuated by a cheesy horn section that would make Lionel Richie retch, “Too Much220px-Too_Much_Blood_cover Blood” is the last gasp of the Stones’ side job of creating at least one dance track per album for the discos, a tradition that began with Black and Blue’s “Hot Stuff.” This one goes a little thematically darker than the usual club anthem, but the genuine menace once exuded by the Stones is reduced to a carnival haunted house, Alice Cooper-style. The interminable spoken word segments from Mick, rambling in his put-on Cockney accent about Texas Chainsaw Massacre and the true-crime cannibalism case of Issei Sagawa, are bad icing on a worse cake. (“Too Much Blood” did indeed get its extended 12-inch dance mix, which doubled the song’s already agonizing six-minute running time. I can only imagine the dance club’s patrons using it as an opportunity to go do blow in the restroom.)

“Pretty Beat Up” lacks substance, melody, or a point. This bit of filler that barely qualifies as a song once had the very appropriate working title of “Dog Shit.” A guest spot by saxman David Sanborn can’t polish this turd. By the time the second half staggers into “Too Tough,” I have usually given up trying to listen to Undercover. “Too Tough” (To Listen To?) is another number that’s just too generic for words. Unmemorable, off-the-shelf guitar riffs make this sound like a knockoff bar band imitation of the Stones rather than the real deal. “All the Way Down” tries to conjure a little of the old “Shattered” spirit with its rapid-fire vocals and tale of decadence, but it can’t rise above its phoned-in music.

The best thing about “It Must Be Hell” is the knowledge that it is the last song, and puts a welcome bullet in the head of the whole project. Another unsuccessful attempt at social commentary like the title song, “It Must Be Hell” lays down yet another plastic prefab backing track as Mick decries the suffering and plight of…someone, somewhere. It’s never really clear. Maybe it’s about Soviet communism? I dunno.

The Rolling Stones
4/5ths of the Stones, 1983. Where’s Bill?

Undercover has no there there. It seems to be occupying a theoretical space where a Stones album should be, but it disappears when you poke past its shiny surface. A used-up Chris Kimsey told the difficult band he was opting out of whatever their next project was.

From the outset, Keith did not care for the material put together for Undercover. Especially nowadays, people tend to elevate the super-cool outlaw rebel Keith Richards at the expense of campy, prancing frontman Mick Jagger. But when the Undercover situation was reversed, and the opportunity came to dominate the creative process of making a Rolling Stones album…Keith proved quite capable of producing total crap as well.

How did this happen? It all started a couple of months before the release of Undercover. On August 25, 1983, the Rolling Stones announced they had signed a $28 million deal with CBS Records. All well and good. But piggybacked onto deal was an entirely separate fat payday for Mick — for his new solo career. This was kept secret from the rest of the band for as long as possible.

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Walter Yetnikoff

In fact, it was widely believed that CBS Records president Walter Yetnikoff wanted Mick Jagger as a solo artist more than he wanted the Rolling Stones. Mick’s status as a celebrity and media personality seemed unaffected by the artistic ups and downs of the band in the last few years. By the early ’80s, in some people’s eyes the Rolling Stones were merely Mick Jagger’s backing band. (A shot of the Sun Devils Stadium marquee reading “Tonight: Mick Jagger & The Rolling Stones” on their ‘81 tour was discreetly edited out of the concert film.) It certainly appeared that Yetnikoff believed people would buy Jagger’s stuff in the same numbers as they bought the Stones. (He would be proven wrong, of course. Jagger’s whole persona, down to his voice itself, can be jarring when removed from the familiar context of the Stones.) And kingmaker Yetnikoff would get the credit for shepherding Mick away from sharing the spotlight with four other guys and into a lucrative new era. There was every expectation that Mick could be the next Michael Jackson, the Stones being the Jackson Five in this analogy.

When Yetnikoff actually pushed for Mick to do his own album before the next Rolling Stones album (and pushed hard — Walter was a pushy guy), the cat came screeching out of the bag. Mick announced in April 1984 there would be no work with the Stones that year as he concentrated on his first solo album. Keith was predictably livid, but could do nothing but wait. After a series of fractious band meetings, it was agreed to start recording the new Stones album in January 1985.

When the momentous occasion finally arrived, Mick — just as Keith predicted — arrived 220px-Shesthebossat Pathe-Marconi with an empty tank. No songs, no ideas for songs, no lyrics, no scraps. He had used it all up on his own album, She’s the Boss, due out in a few weeks. He would soon be jetting off for press, promotion, videos, and all the distractions selling an album requires. (She’s the Boss did not fly off the shelves, but made it to #13 on the U.S. charts. Not a failure, but Yetnikoff’s predictions of having the next Michael Jackson in his stable were not panning out.)

Recording began in earnest in April, and it frequently proceeded without Mick. And even more frequently without a fed-up Bill, who was rumored to be quitting the band. And often without the band’s anchor/compass, Charlie, who was depressed, drinking heavily and, unknown to everyone until after this period was over, using heroin. So Keith stepped up to the plate and began cranking out songs, assisted by Woody, who was just out of rehab (not for the last time.) Keith desperately wanted to tour with this album, so the songs he created were designed to be concert-friendly — big riffs, high energy. He felt all the band’s problems could be worked out if they just hit the damn road. It was not to be. Maybe it was for the best — the songs formulated to be concert warhorses were uniformly second-rate.

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Lillywhite could not staunch the bleeding.

Despite not being present much of the time, one of Mick’s positive contributions was bringing in Steve Lillywhite, the producer behind XTC, Simple Minds, and U2’s early work, in the hopes that a fresh set of ears would help matters. Poor Lillywhite must have wondered what he’d gotten himself into. In the end, everyone came to the conclusion that Lillywhite was a total pro, and credited him with doing everything he could to salvage the material. Many years later, Lillywhite laughingly confessed to the knowledge he (co-) produced the “worst-ever Rolling Stones album.” He and the band remained friends, but never worked together again.

When the Stones said good-bye to the Pathe-Marconi Studios in June of 1985, it would be for the last time. The facility, which had been growing increasingly decrepit, was razed in the 1990s. Parisians living in the apartments that now occupy the old studio’s footprint have no idea they’re doing their dishes over a ghostly chunk of the Rolling Stones’ recording legacy.

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The band as captured by Annie Leibovitz, New York, 1985

Through July and August, the basic tracks were completed at RPM Studios in the band’s second home, New York City. Overdubbing began in September and continued into the next month. Mick finally completed the blustering, belligerent lyrics, none of which were anything above ordinary, and some were downright wretched. As we’ve seen, Stones sessions have an open-door policy for famous friends, or musicians who can add an interesting touch. Trying desperately to give the floundering album a lift were the likes of Jimmy Page, Jimmy Cliff, Ivan Neville, soul legends Bobby Womack and Don Covay, and many others (the number of backing vocalists could fill a page on its own.)

Ian-Stewart
Stu, 1938-1985

The final mix of what was now titled Dirty Work was completed on December 5, 1985 after a month of fiddling and tweaking at Right Track Studios. Exactly one week later, “sixth Stone” Ian Stewart died of a massive heart attack at only 47. “Stu” was wonderful barrelhouse pianist, and had been a founding member of the band in 1962, before management removed him from the line-up for not fitting in “aesthetically” with the rest of the group. He stayed in the band’s inner circle as chief road manager and part-time keyboardist, only playing on songs he liked. (He refused to touch any of the Dirty Work songs.) Losing Stu was the capper to an incredibly shitty year for the Rolling Stones.

Dirty Work came out on March 24, 1986. The cover says it all — wearing neon-bright ’80s colors, the band is sprawled lifelessly around a sofa. Four of them are glaring, glassy-eyed and bored, at the camera. Charlie averts his eyes, either ashamed or mourning the band that was pretty much dead at this point.

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Dirty Work, 1986

“One Hit (to the Body)” is busy and flashy, and ends up sounding like bubblegum hard rock, more Bon Jovi than Rolling Stones. Like everything on Undercover and much more to come, the production is brittle, over-processed, and very, very ’80s. Still, it’s probably one of the strongest songs on the album. In an historic moment, the Stones are joined by Jimmy Page, who fires off two Zeppelinesque guitar solos. This alone makes the song worth a listen. The immediate follower, “Fight,” is more stripped down, and Charlie plays a little looser. The main riff echoes “Jumpin’ Jack Flash” in places, but the song ultimately rings hollow.

“Harlem Shuffle” is the best song on Dirty Work, and it’s not an original. It’s a cover of a 1963 R&B number by Bob & Earl. The Stones wisely chose this track as the lead single off the album, being the only song from the sessions to flash the Stones magic. Bobby Womack’s voice is so prominent it’s practically a duet with Mick. The seemingly effortless, slinky cool of “Harlem Shuffle” is then dissipated by the tuneless trifle “Hold Back,” which lurches around trying to figure out what it’s about while Mick tackles the vocals with such histrionics it sounds as if he’s about to rupture himself.

Then the Stones finally nail reggae! After several less-than-convincing attempts dating back to Black and Blue, “Too Rude” gets it just right, but…it’s not really the Stones. It’s the duo of Keith and Woody. Playing both bass and drums, Woody reveals he could acquit himself well in a Kingston dance hall. It’s Keith on guitars and lead vocals, with reggae superstar Jimmy Cliff singing along. It’s also not an original, but an off-the-cuff re-working of “Winsome,” a recent hit by Jamaican artist Half-Pint. Lillywhite, a veteran of the Island Records staff in the 70s, gives it an authentic, dub-style mix.

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“One Hit (to the Body)” video shoot, early ’86

“Winning Ugly” is the first of two originals eventually brought to the table by Mick late in the game, and not a product of the overworked Richards-Wood riff factory. It sounds much more like his solo material, with its digital synthesizers and female backing vocals. It’s no surprise Bill isn’t on bass, but not even Woody could be bothered, so the bassist is a studio musician named John Regan, who was on Mick and David Bowie’s cover of “Dancing in the Street,” a Live Aid charity single recorded around the same time. (Remember the God-awful video?) “Back to Zero” is Mick’s second contribution, warning listeners about the perils of nuclear war in the new guttural, hectoring singing voice he’s been trying out on these sessions. The guitarists are given a break (some of the minimal six-string work here is provided by Bobby Womack), and the sound is dominated the burbling keyboards of Philippe Saisse and Chuck Leavell, who would become the first non-Stone to receive a co-writing credit. The dubious Chaka Khan-style percussion comes off poorly.

“Dirty Work” and “Had it With You” are of a piece, channeling Keith’s frustration with Mick into C-grade rockers with formulaic riffs. (To keep it from being too formulaic, the bass guitar and piano were dropped from “Had it With You,” and Woody played sax. Didn’t help much.) They may well have come alive on stage as intended, but they’re pretty thin gruel here. The album closes with “Sleep Tonight,” and sets a new precedent with Keith’s second lead vocal on one album, backed by Womack and Covay. In fact, this very nice slow ballad is pretty much all Keith — lyrics, guitars, bass. That’s Woody providing some shaky drums instead of the ailing Charlie. The pianist is a mystery — most sources say it’s Keith himself, some say Leavell, and it’s even been suggested that it’s Keith’s new pal Tom Waits. It fits his style, and Waits was known to be hanging around the New York sessions, occasionally joining the throng of backing vocalists. The album fades out to a brief sample of Ian Stewart playing “Key to the Highway.”

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1986

In spite of everything, Keith still thought the band would take Dirty Work out on the road. His hopes were shattered when Mick sent everyone in the band a letter saying he would not be touring with the Stones in the foreseeable future. Mick was most likely correct that no one in the band was physically or mentally up to a tour. He was beginning work on his second solo album, and what’s more, he was assembling his own band and going on tour with them.

“…and so the Rolling Stones ended their remarkable career in the spring of 1986.”

51S2aGZ7kgL._SX355_That’s how the story could have ended. But no one pulled the trigger on an official break-up announcement. Charlie cleaned up his act by the end of the year. Bill was rumored to be quitting the band. Mick released his second solo album, Primitive Cool, in 1987 and unlike the relative success of She’s the Boss, it was a flop. He briefly toured Japan and Australia in 1988, performing mostly Stones material with Joe Satriani on guitar (how Keith fumed over that!), but decided against bringing his act to the U.S. or Europe. He realized the brass ring of solo superstardom had eluded him. Keith put out his own modest album in late 1988, Talk Is Cheap. He and his ad hoc band, the X-Pensive Winos, got more critical respect than Mick’s efforts, but similarly low sales (it struggled to #24).

Phone calls were made among the band, with the amiable Woody acting as mediator, throughout 1988. “Shall we…? Next year…?” As Keith told Mick in an ‘88 band meeting, “This thing is bigger than both of us.” He later compared the Jagger-Richards relationship to a marriage that stayed together for the love of the kids they’ve produced.

The Stones’ decade-long Paris/New York City phase was over. A new chapter opened in the turquoise waters of the Caribbean. Mick and Keith scheduled a tentative meeting for just the two of them at Blue Wave Studios in Barbados in early January of 1989 to see if they could manage not to kill each other. Keith told his wife he’d be back in either two weeks or forty-eight hours. To everyone’s relief, the pair found rapprochement and immediately began working on demos, the process of which spread over the next two months. Initially, it was just the two of them. As they found things clicking, Charlie was summoned. (He had an uncredited hand in many of these songs’ composition.) A couple of weeks later, Woody and Bill arrived.

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Matt Clifford

No long breaks this time. Chris Kimsey came back to the co-producer’s chair on the condition that things be done quickly. As soon as the demo sessions on Barbados wrapped, the band island-hopped to Monsterrat and AIR Studios, which had state-of-the-art equipment and all the amenities of a tropical resort. Leavell took his spot at the keyboard, and Kimsey did not return alone. He brought a friend, arranger and — uh-oh — synthesizer specialist Matt Clifford. It was definitely still the ‘80s. But Clifford would soon prove his worth, contributing significantly to almost every track, and the bad vibes that dominated recording sessions since Emotional Rescue were banished. Recorded digitally for the first time, the basic tracks were finished in a little more than four weeks.

The band reunion was also a homecoming. For the overdubbing and mixing sessions in May and June, the Rolling Stones returned to Olympic Studios in London for the first time in almost twenty years. From late 1966 to 1970, Olympic was the band’s studio of choice, the recording site for Beggars Banquet, Let It Bleed, and much of Sticky Fingers.

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Fischer and Fowler

To some fans’ dismay, there is one tradition established by the Stones in the ‘80s that they’ve stubbornly clung to — hiring professional backing singers. Even Keith admitted having ringers in the vocal booth sped things up and took a little weight off the core band’s shoulders. For Steel Wheels, Mick brought in Bernard Fowler and Lisa Fischer, who had performed on his ‘88 solo tour. From his own solo project, Keith brought in Sarah Dash. The Stones would rarely record or perform without a supporting vocal trio in the future, usually anchored by Fowler, who, like Chuck Leavell, became a mainstay.

A brass section-for-hire called the Kick Horns was added to four tracks. And in mid-June, Mick, Keith, Woody, and the production team traveled to Morocco to record with the Master Musicians of Joujouka.

Steel Wheels was released to great fanfare and generous reviews in August 1989 — the Stones were back! — but time has not been particularly kind to the album. Its cold, ultra-slick sound became dated almost the moment the decade turned. The songs themselves are an overall stronger batch than those found on Undercover or Dirty Work. I guess I’d say Steel Wheels is the “best of the worst.”

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Steel Wheels, 1989

“Sad Sad Sad” kicks things off by breaking tradition — firing the first salvo of an open-tuned guitar riff is Mick Jagger. The song itself is a loud, energetic, but slightly second-tier rock song, enlivened by the Kick Horns and Woody’s very busy bass. (52-year-old Bill was briefly in the doghouse with the rest of the band for getting engaged to a teenager during the sessions. He was banished to the neighboring island of Antigua for a while to clean up his mess by dealing with the media shitstorm that inevitably came down and threatened to derail recording. Woody, as usual, handled bass chores in his absence.) “Mixed Emotions” is the album’s theme song, very well-arranged and well-performed by the band firing on all cylinders, and highlighting their new vocal chorus. The lyrics are all about burying hatchets and forgetting past insults, but as the title indicates, there’s a little ambivalence there too.

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1989

“Terrifying” demonstrates there are still definitely factions within the band: the traditionalist Richards-Wood axis, and those who flitted in and out Jagger’s more experimental orbit. On these sessions, Mick’s partner in crime was Matt Clifford, who helped Mick arrange this dance-pop confection with tinkling synths that is more reminiscent of something like Dead or Alive than anything associated with the Stones’ normal inspirations. Kick Horns member Roddy Lorimer steals the show with a squiggly trumpet solo in the song’s final third. Luckily, the Wyman-Watts rhythm section is in strong evidence, keeping the track grounded in funk. As doubtful as I am when Jagger takes the Stones in this direction, I have to admit “Terrifying” keeps me listening.

“Hold on to Your Hat” is a throwaway, the kind of fast-tempo’d filler that clutters up latter-day Stones albums like empty beer cans, destined to never see the lights of a concert stage or make the cut for a compilation album. The blues number “Hearts for Sale” is of even less interest, hitting all the usual marks without catching fire. The acoustic “Blinded by Love” changes things up, a rustic blend of country and tex-mex, and featuring some interesting Jagger lyrics about romance through the ages. Clifford associate Phil Beer adds atmospheric touches on fiddle and mandolin.

The centerpiece of Steel Wheels is “Rock and a Hard Place.” The lyrics are non-specifically political, championing human rights around the world. The sound is massive — a monolithic chunk of dense hard rock churning away like a lava pit. The band sounds like they’re really sweating it out, building on a Leavell/Clifford keyboard wash, firing off mini-solos, conjuring a funky breakdown on the bridge, and Bill Wyman — despite frequent absences of late — shows he’s still a master bassist.

“Can’t Be Seen” marks the first time on the album we hear Keith on lead vocals, and it sounds like what it is, a Talk Is Cheap leftover. It’s typical of much of Keith’s solo work — more feel than melody, a few phrases rather than real verses. A rough sketch of a song. The seduction ballad “Almost Hear You Sigh” also dates from Keith’s solo album sessions, co-written with X-Pensive Winos drummer Steve Jordan. But Mick takes the lead vocal here, the sound is fleshed out (phrasings from Keith’s Velazquez classical guitar are especially nice), and the song becomes a surprising second-half highlight, almost like it’s on the second half of Tattoo You.

“Continental Drift” is psychedelic world music, a throwback to the acid-soaked days of Brian Jones’s Mellotron and Their Satanic Majesties Request. Mick and Clifford laid down the basic foundation with a Korg synthesizer and drum machine, on top of which is layered the trance-like harmonics of the traditional Berber music group known as the Master Musicians of Joujouka (recorded on location in north Africa) which builds to a mystical crescendo of lira flutes, rhaita pipes, and tebel drums. Back in London, more percussion by the African rhythmic group Farafina was added, finally topped off by the core band’s vocals and acoustic guitars.

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Mick with the Masters, Tangier, June 1989

“Break the Spell” is the album’s sonorous blues keeper, and an enjoyable Tom Waits homage. Mick does a fine job on the seedy, rasping vocals and distorted harmonica, and Woody does his best to make his electric bass guitar sound like he’s slapping an old stand-up bass. “Slipping Away” is another one of Keith’s slow-jam closers, now a firm tradition.

The 1980s ended just as the Stones ended their American Steel Wheels tour. The European leg, known as the Urban Jungle tour, kicked off the 90s.

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End of the 1980s show…Bill is hailing a cab

Bill Wyman was rumored to be…oh, shit, he actually quit in 1991. Already shame-facedly divorced from his teen bride, the official announcement of his long-threatened departure was not made for over two years. He would not be replaced. Henceforth, the bass parts would be covered by hired hands, mostly Darryl Jones from Miles Davis’ band.

The 1990s would bring two more albums. The Don Was-produced Voodoo Lounge in 1994 (a full review of which can be found in the Holy Bee archives) was solid, but Mick sniffed it was too “retro,” resulting in 1997’s everything-but-the-kitchen-sink overbaked mess of Bridges To Babylon, where seemingly every track had a different production team and session players outnumbered the band. Factionalism grew stronger. The band’s now-very large staff and support crew admit that you are either “Team Jagger” or “Team Richards” and you’d better choose a side or you won’t last long. But at least the factions can cooperate when it counts.

Their last original album, 2005’s A Bigger Bang, was mostly forgettable, and in recent years the Rolling Stones have existed primarily as a concert act. Though their big draw is those same dozen or so classic-rock radio hits (you know what they are) in stadiums from St. Louis to Helsinki, there’s always a few deep cuts, and they usually have some interesting covers (“Bob Wills is Still the King,” “The Nearness of You”) ready to go. The opening act on one recent tour, Jack White, marveled that the band still had lengthy discussions on exactly how to play “Satisfaction.” They still care.

So I still hold out hope for the band. Hell, they’re my favorite.

2016’s tossed-off electric blues covers album Blue and Lonesome was quite spry, with a wonderfully rough, scuzzy tone — and no backing singers! As of this writing, Mick Jagger has just turned 76 and has bounced back from a heart valve replacement procedure. Keith Richards, 75, has confessed his last remaining vices are “a little wine with meals, and a Guinness or a beer or two.” Charlie Watts will soon turn 80.

They just kicked off their latest U.S. tour. They dug “Sad Sad Sad” out of mothballs for opening night. And they’re recording a new album.

Fingers crossed. No matter what happens, it’s bound to be better than Undercover.

[holybeeofephesus.com]



Edited 2 time(s). Last edit at 2019-10-14 19:50 by exilestones.

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exilestones
But when the Undercover situation was reversed, and the opportunity came to dominate the creative process of making a Rolling Stones album… Keith proved quite capable of producing total crap as well.

Struggle session - Keith-Steve Jordan --- Le Studio Toronto 1987 …. Photo Jane Rose



ROCKMAN

Black and Blue Sessions 1975

1994 TORONTO REHEARSAL - Mick Jagger & Chuck Leavell - photo Paul Natkin

Rehearsing at Keith Richards's home Redlands in 1968.
photos by Michael Cooper



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 2019-10-15 04:43 by exilestones.

…………………………………………………………………………………………. Photo Bob Bonis



ROCKMAN

ROCKMAN

Rockman, amazing contributions all throughout this thread. cant believe the treasure chest of photos you been sitting on.
very cool of you to share them with the community.

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Rockman

Haven't posted pics here before so hopefully this'll work....
I think that photo Rockman posted is from the second day of sessions at RCA that started on the 9th December 1965 lasting to the early hours of 10th December.

Here's one from December 8th (the first Aftermath/Could You Walk On Water session) which carried on through to the 9th December....looks like it's 11.35pm-ish judging from Mick's watch



and here's one from the last day of recording, 10th to 11th December



Looking at a high Rez version of that last pic. you can make out that Mick's holding the lyrics for Take It Or Leave It.



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 2019-10-15 17:30 by ash.

one from the first day of Aftermath sessions, 8th-9th December 1965



another one from (probably) the 2nd day of Aftermath sessions 9th-10th December 1965


and another (probably) from day 3, 10th-11th December 1965

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ash

Quote
Rockman

Haven't posted pics here before so hopefully this'll work....
I think that photo Rockman posted is from the second day of sessions at RCA that started on the 9th December 1965 lasting to the early hours of 10th December.

Here's one from December 8th (the first Aftermath/Could You Walk On Water session) which carried on through to the 9th December....looks like it's 11.35pm-ish judging from Mick's watch



and here's one from the last day of recording, 10th to 11th December



Looking at a high Rez version of that last pic. you can make out that Mick's holding the lyrics for Take It Or Leave It.

Awesome! Do you have the high Rez pic?

not to hand but I think it's the lyric from the verse
(top line on sheet in photo) I'm sick and tired of the smile
(2nd line) that you give when you don't come back at night

Andrew Loog Oldham … RCA studio Los Angeles 1965 ………………….. Gered Mankowitz



ROCKMAN

Andrew Loog Oldham … RCA studio Los Angeles 1965 ………………….. Gered Mankowitz



ROCKMAN