The Jack Daniels raw vocals of Mick Jagger. The haze of Keith Richards. Slug a fifth and belt it out in the middle of the night. Wake up in the miserable heat of the French Riviera and a riff jumps out of your guitar. Do it all again. Over and over. Stragglers, drunks, and junkies littered on the floor like corpses, soldiers long dead in a war that never stops. Bloodshed. The depths of human depravity. Redemption. Exiled from high culture, low culture, and everything in between. A group of pirates, plundering, pillaging, and burning everything in their path. This is Exile on Main St. This is the Rolling Stones at their most decadent and at the same time, distilled down to their very essence. They embraced their inner-most demons to make this record, and it had its price. Surely, they all knew that when you make a deal with the devil, he always collects. The hell hound nipped at their heels, and because of it, The Rolling Stones unleashed a record as dark, demonic, and brilliant as you’ll ever hear in rock n’ roll.
Long before this, thanks to some clever marketing gimmicks, the Stones were perceived as the ”bad boys” of rock n’ roll. They were the contrast to the squeaky clean image Brian Epstein had given the Beatles. The Beatles, while not perceived as four guys that you’d want to let your daughters date, were nice. They were funny and cute. The Stones, on the other hand, were marketed as five guys you wouldn’t want your daughters in the same room with. While the images in the beginning were marketing tools, the bands diverged on very different paths. Where as the Beatles diverged into what would be called now as “power-pop,” the Stones drenched themselves in the blues of the deep south, exploring its dark imagery. The Beatles wrote songs about love. The Stones wrote songs about sex. The Stones wrote songs from the perspective of serial killers, of Satan himself. Contrast “Midnight Rambler” from Let it Bleed and “The End” from Abbey Road, both released in the same year. The final lines, “And I shove my knife right down your throat,” compared to “And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.” While the Beatles provoked and inspired the flower children of the late 1960’s, the Stones rooted themselves in the darkness of humanity.
The 1960’s became the 1970’s. The Stones closed out the decade that brought love ins and flower children with a free concert in Altamont that, supposed to be a Woodstock West, resulted in the stabbing death of James Meredith. The day was marred by countless acts of brutal violence brought on by the Hell’s Angels, who were tapped to provide security. In the coming year, the Beatles broke up. Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin died. Bob Dylan remained in seclusion, releasing confoundingly simple and bad records. The anti war movement lost its steam, and the remaining protesters turned increasingly violent. Four students were killed at Kent State by the National Guard. The chaos that the Stones embraced in songs like “Street Fighting Man,” and “Gimmie Shelter,” had manifested itself and turned to hatred. By 1972, it had slid into apathy.
On the albums preceeding Exile, the Rolling Stones had always included elements of country, rock and roll, gospel, and all three American schools of the blues (Chicago, Delta, and Memphis). Yet, on all of the records of the “Stones Renaissance” beginning with Beggar’s Banquet, the styles seemed self conscious and separated. The transitions jolted too much from song to song. It was if they determined a quota on each record to fit a country tune, a different stylized blues tune, and a couple blazing rockers. On Exile, and perhaps it was the atmosphere, the drugs, the booze, or whatever, the self consciousness dropped. Instead of being recorded in a sterile recording studio, the heart of the record was recorded in Keith’s villa in Nellacote. A former Nazi mansion with swastikas on the floor vents. The styles and motifs the guys had been working in finally meshed themselves together in a seamless fashion where every type of American music comes together in a swinging mass of sloopy boogie. The songs ease into one another unlike any other Stones record before or since. The Stones, always a singles band, had made a record, a double record at that, with one, unifying theme throughout even if they never intended to. They didn’t intend it, not like their British Invasion counterparts, The Who, who had released two “rock operas” by 1972 with a unifying concept. No, Exile was not as thematic and plot driven as Tommy or Quadrophenia. There is no “story” present in the lyrics or a plot that pushes the record forward in the more traditional sense. Yet, while there is no plot or grand arc noticable on the album, there is a unifying sound that’s as muddy and dense as any record and thematically the record is straight from the gutter, pool halls, backwater gambling shacks, front porches, cotton fields, and the gospel churches of the South. To sum up, it’s quite simply sin and redemption, the two sides of the coin that cause the conflict of all great blues records.
The record starts with a hellish riff coming off of Keith Richards’ guitar and Mick screeching, “Oh yeah!” In most respects, this a typical Stones rocker. What the Stones are most famous for are the riffs that stick in your brain. Go look at a Rolling Stones greatest hits package. On it, you’ll find songs that are immediately recognizable in the first 10 seconds. From “Satisfaction” to “Start Me Up” and beyond, the Stones live and die on Keith’s guitar neck. In the opening track, over very satisfying and enhancing horn bursts (The Stones were probably the best at using horns, never overdone, always tasteful and fitting), “Rocks Off” finds Mick tracing the same theme of sexual frustration of “Satisfaction.” Except now, he gets all the sex he could possibly want but it’s boring the fuck out of him. He only can get his rocks off when he’s dreaming. It’s typical Stones, but they keep finding ways to make it interesting.
Side one is rounded out with a heinously fast, “Rip This Joint,” and the classic “Tumblin’ Dice.” Where as “Rip This Joint,” flies at break neck speed, with Mick trying to get all the words in at a rapid fire pace to keep up with Keith, Mick Taylor, and the rest of the boys, “Dice” finds the band in a relaxed mood. In it are the images of gambling and loose women, common blues themes. The lyrics, at times, aren’t intelligible, as Jagger’s voice is buried in the mix, but it doesn’t matter. The song’s loose, but engaging sound, filled with a chorus of female backing vocals make it the classic that it is.
Side two starts with the country tune, “Sweet Virginia.” With the acoustic guitar jangle, Mick’s vastly underrated harmonica, and vocals by committee sound, the song lifts off the ground and takes them to a whole new height of country sound that completely dwarfs previous efforts like “Country Honk,” “Wild Horses,” and “Dead Flowers.” It’s more natural, less forced, the country vocal inflections that Jagger used on “Flowers” is gone. As the sing along chorus comes around for the last time and the song ends, we’re directly brought into “Torn and Frayed,” another country tune that struggles awkwardly at the beginning, but lifts off into honky tonk barroom bliss. The Stones would do country again, but never this naturally and effectively.
Rounding out side two is the gumbo tinged “Sweet Black Angel,” and the country blues tune, “Loving Cup.” What stands out on this tune to me is the drumming of Charlie Watts, the most underrated drummer in the history of rock n’ roll. Yeah, we here often of the prowess of John Bohnam, Keith Moon, and Ginger Baker. Watts is often left off the Mount Rushmore of rock drummers, which is a shame. Many have drummed heavier, harder, and faster but none could lay down a groove like Watts whose whip smart cracks and fills are as tasteful and brilliant as any drummer before or since. Watts is the foundation that the Stones have always built on and his long, heavy fills in “Loving Cup” show why he is greater than the greats.
The only real flaw with side two is that it lacks a rocker to move it forward. The transitions from “Torn and Frayed” to “Sweet Black Angel” to “Loving Cup” drags on. While they are all wonderful songs, “Loving Cup” being one of my favorite Stones tunes, this side lacks the propulsion of a bonafide Stones boogie to keep the listener intent.
Side three comes out of the corner swining, literally. It’s the famous, probably the most famous Keith Richards sung Stones song, “Happy.” The riff, again, is instantly recognizable as Keith starts the song off and Mick T.’s guitar weaves in and out of the line. The horns blare on as Keith laments his need for love and not lear jets to keep him happy. This song is where Keith lays down why he is reveared as a rock n’ roll deity. He is so unbound by pretension, so unfettered by trend, fashion, or silly rules. He just exudes cool, which makes him the ultimate foil to Mick Jagger’s jet setting, trendy and fashion laden lifestyle. Keith Richards is the heart and soul of the Rolling Stones, while Mick is the face. “Happy” is loose and fast, like any song by Keith should be. It is also his greatest vocal performance, as he actually sells the song’s buried angst and general anger.
Something else was cooking on side three entirely, with Jagger and Taylor collaborating on an incindiary “Ventilator Blues.” A woozy, somewhat nonsensical track with horns simmering under the surface, you can hear the humidity drip off your turntable. Jagger snarls through the track and Taylor steps out as he was rarely allowed to do in the Stones, and delivers a hellacious solo. The only other solos that can compare are on “Can’t You Hear Me Knockin’?” off of Sticky Fingers, and “Winter” off Goat’s Head Soup. Rounding off side three is the classic soul tune, “Let it Loose.” It’s as soulful as any Al Green or Otis Redding number, and quite frankly, I’m surprised that in Green’s long career, he’s never covered it. Mick Jagger goes balls out on the vocal, straining his voice and turning in one of his greatest vocal performances ever.
In the bar you’re getting drunk. Yeah yeah yeah. Ain’t in love, ain’t in love. No no. Hide the switch and shut the light. Let it all come down tonight.
It’s a forcefully emotional tune, complete with gospel singers and a shower of horn lines that pull at your emotions without being too corny or overwrought, i.e. “Angie.”
Side four begins with what would become a Stones live standard, “All Down the Line.” It starts off with another swinging Keith riff. This record is full of them, and it cannot be stated enough that this record is Keith’s finest moment in the Stones. The song is a pretty standard rocker, and gets side four started off with a bang.
Coming next is the Robert Johnson tune, “Stop Breaking Down.” The Stones loved the blues, and often did faithful covers of others. Their best, in my opinion, being “Love in Vain,” also written by Johnson. This track, however, is too sloppy, and seems to be thrown in to round out the fourth side. If you want to hear a good cover, listen to the White Stripes version of this song.
“Saw you stretched out in room ten o nine, with a smile on your face and a tear right in your eye,” is what starts off the straight gospel tune, “Shine a Light.” Here is the redemption. “May the good Lord shine a light on you,” is its refrain. A fine tune, with another Mick Taylor solo that’ll knock your socks off. The lyrics are a bit cheesy, but it’s the Stones atonement prayer. Some have claimed this song is about their late lead guitar player, Brian Jones, but I don’t know for sure. What I do know is, I’d go to church if they played this song.
The last song on side four is “Sole Survivor.” It’s not very good, but the message is clear. The Stones are the sole surviors of the 1960’s. With the majority of their members in tact, the Stones survived what killed other artists. Unfortunately, their survival through this blood and guts effort of a double record seemed to tap them for years to come. After Exile and the STP tour, the Stones fell a bit into the wilderness. Keith’s addictions got the best of him, Mick Taylor became dissatisfied with the state of the group and felt not only bound by the Stones, but betrayed with his lack of songwriting credits. Jagger sold out, became a jet setting playboy, enjoying the lifestyle of the rock star rather than creating much worthwhile. Yes, the demons that made this record so great engrossed the Stones throughout most of the 1970’s. The efforts that followed, Goat’s Head Soup, It’s Only Rock n’ Roll, and Black and Blue were arguably bad, or at least disappointing considering the standard they set with Exile.
So listen to this record if you truly want to know what the Stones are all about. They’d never eclipse this record, they’d never get back to where it was in 1972.
