Rolling Stones

Altamont: Go Easy with Your Cold Fanged Anger

by

“Cold fanged anger.” That’s one of many disturbing lyrics from the Rolling Stones’ classic “Midnight Rambler.” It’s a song about a black-caped killer — a knife-sharpening hit-and-run raper who’ll smash your windows, put his fist through your door, and stick his knife right down your throat. That character sprang from the mind of Mick Jagger. And on December 6, 1969, the monster turned on its maker, turning a day of free music into a night of chaos and killing. This is the story of the murder at Altamont.

The Beatles and The Stones: Beasts of Beard-dom

by

“She asks me why I’m just a hairy guy. I’m hairy noon and night. Hair that’s a fright. I’m hairy high and low. Don’t ask me why. Don’t know.” Those words from the Broadway musical “Hair” pretty much summed up the “let it all hang out, let it all hang long” philosophy of the ’60s. When it came to facial hair, The Beatles were a bit more adventurous than The Rolling Stones. But in the end, Mick proved to be the furriest of them all. Here’s a little something for World Beard Day 2105.

Brian Jones: Wild Clotheshorses Couldn’t Drag Me Away

by

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.

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

by

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.