Waiting on a Friend

When you buy clothing from the great London artisan Drake’s - more on that later this week - they give you a free copy of their new magazine, Common Thread. Common Thread is edited by David Coggins (whose book Men and Style came out last October), and he calls upon many friends and collaborators to create a funky little rag that captures the spirit of the brand. It’s not entirely about clothing, but touches on topics of a life well-lived, whether in regards to food or music or art.

One writer Coggins calls on is Paul L. Underwood, from Austin, Texas. Underwood penned a piece about the Rolling Stones’ 1989 album Steel Wheels, where he praises the band’s brief turn toward arena rock. In doing so, he argues the Stones put out little good material after their string of albums from 1969-1972, which include Beggars Banquet, Let it Bleed, Sticky Fingers and Exile on Main Street. Discussing their ‘70s and ‘80s output, Underwood writes, “In the following decade and a half, the band experienced a slow decline, all iffy output and public squabbling.”

I get Underwood’s point. Few albums top the Stone’s ‘69-72 run. What Underwood fails to acknowledge is that after this period, the Stones did themselves a favor by taking the occasional turn into left field. This turn began with Exile, the grittiest of the four albums, and unfortunately went south with the forgettable Goats Head Soup. Though “Angie” had the makings of a chart topper, it's basically a cheapened rendition of "Wild Horses" (off of Sticky Fingers). That said, the haunting “Dancing With Mr. D” is one of the Stones’ most underrated jams, sounding like an early, stripped-down lo-fi version of their 1978 hit "Miss You" at times. Though most won't spend significant time with Goats Head Soup - since it's not necessary - there's still a hint of something there and a foretaste of the feast to come.

This was hardly left field, though, compared to the lost EP Cocksucker Blues, too obscene to be released to the public and better than the tunes found on Goats Head Soup. Based on an unreleased documentary of the same name from 1972, some of Cocksucker’s tunes made their way to Goats Head Soup, toned down of course. The EP’s title track has a weird singalong-ability, considering how raunchy the lyrics are. Not all the Stones’ forays into left field were as dirty, though. 1981’s Tattoo You is a high watermark of artistry for the band, thanks to their collaboration with legendary jazz saxophonist Sonny Rollins. His work on “Slave” is one of the best rock horn solos to date, but nothing matches Rollins’ lyrical blowing on “Waiting on a Friend.” Mind you Rollins collaborated with few rock musicians - Leonard Cohen, more a folkie himself, being the other notable instance, for a live performance of “Who By Fire” - so his work with the Stones marks a rare moment of crossover for him. Plus, the “Waiting on a Friend” music video is iconic, since it features the same St. Mark’s Place building, in New York’s East Village, that graced the cover of Led Zeppelin’s Physical Graffiti. Though the production is laughable today, as are Mick Jagger's choice of velcro sneakers for the video, it nonetheless captures the history of a time and place, which are ephemeral, and combines it with a common feeling that makes the shoot stick despite its cheesiness. I made the pilgrimage myself and recreated it while there, since it’s the proper way to pay homage to one’s favorite Stones song.

The works between Goats Head Soup and Tattoo You were more commercial than the albums that bookended them. 1976’s Black and Blue EP remains one of the most neglected parts of the Stones’ canon. Compared to other raucous Stones outings, the EP slows things down and tracks like “Memory Motel” are artifacts of their transition from straight-ahead rock to the funkier grooves of Some Girls. Here the Stones brought electric keyboard to the forefront, taking the lead instead of supporting the band as on previous albums. “Fool to Cry” is pure blue-eyed soul, and is as much of a tearjerker as a Stones tune can be. Try singing along without feeling your eyes water; it's impossible.

And who can forget Some Girls? After staying under the radar in the mid-’70s, it was a sign that the Stones were as strong as ever. They stayed true to their roots on sexy rockers like “Beast of Burden” and jumped on the disco bandwagon with “Miss You.” Even better than the album version is the dance version, extended by three minutes, which draws out the wonder of Mick Jagger pontificating. The fact that “Miss You” never gets old is remarkable, considering - minus a brief bridge - that the melody and refrain are a riff on the same two chords. On Some Girls, the Stones repeatedly nailed this simplicity at its finest, which is why it remains a disco-rock affair that's among their best.

Does the Stones’ output between 1972 and 1981 match their four albums directly beforehand? No, in terms of consistency, but yes in terms of exploration, experimentation and the staying power of individual tunes. These nine years saw the Stones weave in and out of commercialism, both embracing the new waves of pop music and avoiding it altogether. That’s the beauty of the Stones - they play whatever they feel, no matter whether other people think it’s cool or not. They make it cool because they think it’s cool - and because they’re the bloody Rolling Stones. This is the point that Underwood misses, and while their later 20th century work might not pack the gravitas of Let it Bleed or Exile, it deserves as much of a listen.

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