Brian Jones: Wild Clotheshorses Couldn’t Drag Me Away

Brian Jones: Wild Clotheshorses Couldn’t Drag Me Away

Yes, I know that Brian Jones had nothing to do with the recording of the Rolling Stones song "Wild Horses," but I couldn't resist using the pun to get your attention as I introduce my birthday tribute to the band's founder and high priest of psychedelic '60s fashion. I reckon that Brian Jones was the dandiest heterosexual of the 20th century. And one of the randiest, too, having fathered at least five children with five different women by the time he was 23. But there was also real talent behind that foppish Casanova facade. Brian was one of Britain's earliest practitioners of Delta blues. A natural musician, he was arguably the most versatile member of the band he formed and christened The Rollin Stones in 1962. And while he didn't write, sing lead, or play solo on a single song during his career, his prowess as a multi-instrumentalist was unmatched in the rock world. Today would have been his 73rd birthday.

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Mick Taylor’s Moonlight Mile

Mick Taylor’s Moonlight Mile

"Like Mick Jagger in exact reverse." That's the way Keith Richards has described Mick Taylor, the straight-faced guitarist who was sucked into the carnal vortex of the Rolling Stones at the tender age of 20. He did more than just replace guitarist and founding member Brian Jones, he added a whole new dimension to the Stones' dirty white-boy sound. His bluesy, melodic playing and ability to read a song were crucial to the success of the band's three masterpiece albums: "Let it Bleed," "Sticky Fingers," and "Exile on Main Street." He turns 67 tomorrow.

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Merry ‘Nice and Naughty’ Christmas Greetings from The Beatles and The Stones

Merry ‘Nice and Naughty’ Christmas Greetings from The Beatles and The Stones

In the early 1960s, The Beatles came off as cute and cheeky, while the Rolling Stones - marketed by manager Andrew Loog Oldham as the anti-Beatles - were perceived as snide and snarky. Here's a look at how these two very different bands greeted the public at Christmas time.

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Keith, You Still Got the Silver

Keith, You Still Got the Silver

Today I extend a lusty black-and-blue birthday greeting - and a bouquet of the finest dead flowers - to Rolling Stones guitarist Keith Richards, the man who, for the past 50 years, has embodied the true spirit of rock-n-roll rebellion like no other artist. I love lots of rockers for lots of reasons, but Keith will always be my bad-boy fantasy object. "Oh, that old junkie!" you say? "How can you idolize a heroin-loving, speedball shooting hedonist who's snorted everything from the finest cocaine to his dead dad's ashes?" Well, if that's all you know about the man we fans call Keef, then you don't know diddly about the guy who can out-diddle Bo and just about everyone else when it comes to jamming out distinctive guitar licks. Here's my tribute to the seemingly indestructible Mr. Richards.

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The Rolling Stones: Still Rippin’ The Joint, Fifty Years On

The Rolling Stones: Still Rippin’ The Joint, Fifty Years On

When yer blogger was 16 she had her first erotic dream. Mick Jagger. A fountain. Somewhere in sleepy London town. How's that for a teaser? Now that I have your attention, please allow me to introduce my midnight ramble about The Rolling Stones' June 18 concert in Philadelphia, and -- more specifically -- the enduring appeal of the band's strangely sexy frontman. This year The Stones have been hanging fire all across North America with their 50 & Counting Tour. Fifty, as in 50 years of belting out what is arguably the most organic, unadulterated rock and roll ever to emerge from American blues, R&B, and country-honk tradition. Here's my rant.

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