The Stones are a primeval source of rock & roll. They are what sired them (i.e., venerated blues purists), but they don't have the prestige of being obscure. In 2005 the vanguard is a rite. That's why I don't buy the new rock resurgence. Bands like The Strokes and The White Stripes are "cool," but they're living in the '60s.¹

Punk is a good comer. When it sucks another one crops up. When you pant you settle for the lack. We're bound to a "revolution" that keeps throwing itself down and out: The pleated promise of a new day -- as led by the armies of youth -- was negated by the Stones in 1969. They're tired. If rock & roll is the glad sound of mass alienation, and marking time the fate of something that becomes a machine, the carcass of a giant (the empty shell) is much more compelling (and credible) than all those who would fake being dead. Nobody does the Stones-bad like the Stones.

Everybody peaks and everybody hurts. No one would mistake this for a great Stones album. But it might be the tightest, most gaunt piece of their middle age, which is overlooked. Pushing ballads and grooves, Black And Blue is a bummer disguised as a fete -- from the white zombies on the cover to the blatant misogyny of the title: folk music from the disco era, fast hedonism matching that of the 1920s. Mick, of course, sounds blacker than ever. Desiccated by all that yeyo, he sports a Rastafarian cough. The bassist (Bill Wyman) is fluid and locked, and the reggae workouts prove that the album is just that -- a workout.

The record is a chronicle of exhaustion, rare for depth of feeling and good, crude fun. The Stones might be ice cubes, but they are horny down in the hole.

¹I used to think The Strokes were bad. Now I get it. They're colder than The Cars. They want to sound a little bit dirty, but they're scrappy in a terse, half-finished way. I just wish the hooks had as much gel as the rhythm section.

2004-11-29 - Joe Cormack

track list Hot Stuff Hand Of Fate Cherry Oh Baby Memory Motel Hey Negrita Melody Fool To Cry Crazy Mama