THE BLIND FAITH OF GARAGE ROCK!

All four members of Atlanta swamp-poppers the BLACK LIPS and German-Canadian boogie duo KING KHAN & BBQ have formed a massive garage super group. It seems both genuine and a joke at the same time. I like their first released single though I'm surprised their isn't more instrumentation. They seem to be using the six person line-up for vocal strength more than musical cacophony. Their first LP will be out on VICE (the lable of the Black Lips and King Khan's Shrines) on September 24th.

You can hear their song "Lay Down and Die" on here: http://www.myspace.com/thealmightydefenders
Sounds like Joe or Jared on vocals.

You can watch videos of their performances here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0VwN5Nfq6os
and here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zY9ikYeJAP8

LIVEFASTDIE sadly live up to their name

LiveFastDie, a prolific but barely standing bunch of New Hampshire garage punk snots are breaking up, as if they were ever together in the first place.

I have seen LIVEFASTDIE play three times: opening for King Khan & BBQ at Don Pedro's, playing with Thomas Function and (I think) Cheap Time at The Annex, and headlining a night at Cakeshop with Nobunny also on the bill. Everytime they were drunk, hilarious, and furious. Although I think their records are better than their live act, LIVEFASTDIE is a band to see and soon you will only have one more chance to do just that.

I have no idea why LIVEFASTDIE are going the way of the dodo though the standard reasons I'm sure apply. Their last show will be with the always fantastic Golden Triangle at ROCKSTAR BAR on Saturday 7/25. There will be free Colt 45!!!

To hear their shit visit: http://www.myspace.com/livefastdienow

Pretty Groovy!!!

Time to get some "TEENAGE HEAD"!!!


















Sadly, the legendary FLAMIN' GROOVIES are legenday only in very small circles. Though they came from San Francisco, the Groovies displayed few to none of the psychedelic extravagance of conteporaries like Big Brother and the Holding Company or Country Joe and the Fish. Instead the Flamin' Groovies, under the joint leadership of wailer Roy Loney and stringman Cyril Jordan, embraced the Rolling Stones, the Yardbirds, The Byrds (both early and late), and Sun Records artists such as Elvis Presley, Carl Perkins, and Jerry Lee Lewis while funneling those sounds through the "Nuggets"-era garage of The Sonics and The Barbarians. Roy, a Jagger like chameleon who could be a soul shouter or a country crooner, left the band in 1971 at which point the Groovies' headed into a more power pop and mod direction.

Now, Roy and Cyril are back together for the first time in decades after a smashing success at the annual New Orleans' Ponderosa Stop where they were backed by the A-Bones (featuring Billy and Miriam of Norton Records) and Yo La Tengo's Ira Kaplan.

Roy, Cyril and the A-Bones will be playing two NYC-area shows at venues that specialize in acts of their ilk: Hoboken's MAXWELLS (on Thursday 7/23) and Brooklyn's SOUTHPAW (on Friday 7/24). This is a rare oppurtunity and the revues from New Orleans were nothing but good. Tickets for either venue are $15 ($20 on the day of the show) and both show will start at around 9pm (doors at 8pm). Tickets can be purchased on their websites or for Maxwells, in the Village's Other Music.

Links to the venue's websites and photos from the Ponderosa Stomp are below!

SOUTHPAW: http://www.spsounds.com/

MAXWELL'S: http://www.maxwellsnj.com/

In New Orleans: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oR-fCknjOOo; http://www.brooklynvegan.com/archives/2009/05/the_2009_ponder_1.html

THE MUMMIES TAKE MANHATTAN (actually Hoboken and Brooklyn)

BACK FROM THE GRAVE: THE MUMMIES AT MAXWELL'S

I was first introduced to the legendary lo-fi outfit The Mummies during my sophomore year of college. Purists of self proclaimed "Budget Rock" may balk that I have only heard the band's material on CD or in digital form (and now live) but even without the added grain of vinyl, The Mummies particular strain of no frills frat rock bluntly blasts away with a furiously loud and snotty swagger. By "frat rock", I don't refer to the omnipresent Jock Jams comps of your youth or the latest T-Pain track but instead to the garage rock precursor that included Cannibal and the Headhunters, The Troggs, Paul Revere and The Raiders, and most famously the Kingsman's rendition of "Louie, Louie". It is these fun loving mischief makers, along with prime garage kindling The Seeds, The Barbarians, Shadows of Knight, and ? and the Mysterians that provide the basis for The Mummies sound. These influences are then funneled through the aggression of The Stooges, The Dictators and perhaps a very pissed off Yardbirds to create a band that is far more interested in provoking the audience into shouted singalongs and good natured jump-and-nudge dancing than the crowd surfing thrash fests of your average punk band (or whatever we're calling them these days).

Along with the Oblivians, The Mummies are exulted as one of the original and most respected bands in the (to put a label on it) garage punk genre. However with The Mummies, the emphasis is certainly on the former (the garage that is). Maybe it's those feel good, San Fran vibes but while The Mummies certainly seem to play harder and with more commitment that most bands I've seen, their is a certain lovable goofiness about them that permeates their lyrics ("You must fight to live on the Planet of the Apes") and their onstage banter (the drummer cracks jokes, Trent the lead singer humps his organ). The Mummies also possess a level of musicianship that is rare in their circles. Guitarist Larry Winther can actually play competent solos that are full of surf rock intonation while drummer Russell Quan beats with more virtuosity than your average snare/hi-hat man.

I attended the later show on Tuesday night which started promptly at 10:30pm with a performance by a recalibrate The Back CCs, a local band of leather clad Japanese (American) punks whose stuff reminds me most of Johnny Thunders' Heartbreakers or perhaps The Reatards. This is at least the third incarnation (that I've seen) of the now four piece Back CCs who played a maraca shaking set of high energy numbers to the crowd's rapt approval if not quite total attention (the mother fucking Mummies were coming up next after all).

The Mummies performed their sound check sounds shrouds but quickly reemerged in full ghoulish garb, which are actually suits and not individual, loose wrappings as I had always imagined. The set list consisted of most their legendary LP Never Been Caught (1992, Telstar) including classics like "Your Ass is Next in Line", "Stonger Than Dirt" and covers such as "Justine" and "Jezebel". Singer/organist Trent Ruane kept his mic mainly dangling from and tugging at his neck like a rock'n'roll masochist glaring with wide eyes at the audience while occasionally pounded out a simple Farfisa riff. The audience had a good time as more virile attendees pushed to the front (and had to keep pushing to stay there) while the more hesitant folks lingered towards the back of the packed Maxwell's room. Audience members shouted out requests, most of which were played at some point (though my roommate kept shouting out Chrome songs, which was ignored). The show was over in a shake with The Mummies, bounding back onstage for a two-three song encore.

The Mummies had not played a show on US soil in 15 years (which was also at Maxwell's). Let's hope they don't wait another generation (though, what's a generation to a Mummy!)

THE BYRDS - FIFTH DIMENSION (1966, Columbia)

FIFTH DIMENSION

America's Beatles take their first magic carpet ride.

The Byrds have often been called America's answer to The Beatles and although their popularity in the 1960s jettisoned them into the stratosphere of rock stardom, today they are frequently just plastered with the "folk-rock" label of their early years while a genre spanning catalog is often stripped down to "Mr. Tambourine Man" and "Turn, Turn, Turn". This leads people to forget that this band was also one of the finest psychedelic, and later country, and even later southern rock bands of its era. Fifth Dimension certainly has some low points ("What's Happening?", "I Come and Stand at Every Door" come to mind) but also some of the least indulgent and carefully gilded songs in the psychedelia genre. Although certainly full of psychedelic moments, Fifth Dimension would be the last LP to still retains the skeleton of folk-rock that the Byrds would later discard for their more experimental excursions, the pop influenced Younger than Yesterday and the kaleidoscopic The Notorious Byrd Brothers. 

After the fear of flying induced departure of primary tunesmith Gene Clark, his songwriting duties were taken up by David Crosby who had yet, or never would, overcome the worst of his free love obsessions. Crosby does manage to muster up some of his best, and least drippy, material including his cover of "Hey Joe", far inferior to The Leaves' little nugget but I certainly prefer Roger McGuinn's 12 string over Hendrix's downtrodden bullshit any day of the week. Crosby is largely credited with introducing "Hey Joe" into the rock catalogue after plucking it from an obscure folk singer-songwriter named Billy Roberts and introducing it to The Leaves and Love, eventually recording it himself as a member of The Byrds. It is a shame that the down tempo Hendrix version is now recognized as the classic rendition over these three fast paced translations. 

Roger himself especially shines on "5D" and his sitar-like runs on "Eight Miles High", which also features throbbing bass lines by Chris Hillman, can be trying but his solos are more precise and restrained then many of his contemporaries. While bands like the Grateful Dead and the Jefferson Airplane placed an emphasis on musicianship over song craft, a choice which has not let their music age all to gracefully, The Byrds, coming originally from the folk and bluegrass scenes, never sacrifice craftsmanship for the sake of psychedelic experimentation, but instead are able to have both, arguably more often than their contemporaries from Liverpool. The instrumental "Captain Soul", featuring ex-Byrd Gene Clark on harmonica and Michael Clarke's "I can hit a drum in time!" drumming, can seem like filler but is well structured, driving and provides an interesting oasis from the more ethereal tracks. The best songs however showcase The Byrds' ability to blend various genres into cohesive radio ready songs. Their is the beautiful "Wild Mountain Thyme", whose three part harmonies are too beautiful to be written off as hippy-dippy folk and the crown jewel of the LP, the country tinged "Mr. Spaceman", chock full of hooks, harmony, and clever lyrics. The McGuinn sung "Mr. Spaceman" in many foreshadows the country tinges of The Notorious Byrd Brothers and especially Sweetheart of the Rodeo. The Byrds had a habit of ending their LPs on off-kilter notes. Fifth Dimension concludes with the sound effects laden "2-4-2 Fox Trot", which strangely works and does not seem quaint in 2009. If you have the CD-reissue you should definitely check out the paranoid, Gene Clark inspired bonus track "Psychodrama City" which could almost pass for a Velvet Underground song until the Byrds harmonies kick in.

GRAM PARSONS - GRIEVOUS ANGEL (1974, Reprise)

GRIEVOUS ANGEL

I'll Never Get Out of this World Alive

Gram Parsons descends upon a band like a plague that bears both love and locusts. Like a hostile alien in so many sci-fi films (or maybe a tape worm), the Harvard troubadour devours a band and instantly his involvement will usher in a flood of creative energy, refreshing takes on decade old tunes, and some of the most heartfelt interpretations on heartbreak in the popular music canon. However when Parsons departs he leaves the band in ruins, struggling to find a voice. Examples? The International Submarine Band didn’t really exist without him. The Byrds were down to just old Roger and his twelve string once Gram lured away Chris Hillman. The Flying Burrito Brothers were an only child. Even the Rolling Stones were wise enough to separate themselves from this romantically feverish pariah before Keith became TOO stoned to play. This all being said, of course it was only a matter of time that Parsons would desert his own solo career by, well, dying. Before he left, Gram did leave us with one of his crowing achievements: Grievous Angel.


For me, it is impossible, in this case, to separate the legend from the music. The Harvard drop out from a rich but troubled family who, like the wandering minstrels of yore, traveled from band to band. In between he slummed with Keith Richards at Nellcote, stole the Byrds from underneath Roger McGuinn, and did a great deal of cocaine. Even after death, Gram remains an enigma whose body was stolen right from its grave by his manager. The idea of this coked out purveyor of “cosmic American music” only enhances the desperation and loneliness of his material. Aiding Gram, who produced the album himself, were no shortage of fine, more level headed, musical talents led by ex-Elvis/Orbison picker James Burton, reverberating pedal steel by in-demand session man Al Perkins, barrelhouse piano by Glen Hardin, and of course, the close harmonies of Ms. Emmylou Harris. Mr. Parson’s did his best singing with a partner and like Chris Hillman, Ms. Harris didn’t wiggle into the spotlight but haunted from the wings, shifting with his mournful cries.


On "Return of the Grievous Angel", Parsons sounds a little hazy and liquored up but his voice lifts over the smoky room surroundings. It gives me chills just to listen to his voice on the chorus and the way he bends the notes on the word ‘town’ and how his voice jumps the octave on the final repetition. A particular standout is the not-quite-live "Quebec Medley", recorded in the studio with "live" bar sounds such as hoots, hollers and breaking glasses overdubbed later by a gaggle of cohorts that included the legendary Kim Fowley. His take on “Cash on the Barrelhead”, with its lighting quick banjo picking is less Louvin Brothers than country Chuck Berry. The Grievous Angel rendition of “Hickory Wind” is definitely superior to the Byrds version if only for the Harris harmony part.


I first heard “Love Hurts” as sung by Nazareth in the movie Dazed and Confused. Then I listened to the Roy Orbison take in which the original pope of mope placed his unmistakable stamp on a heartbroken hero. But here Parsons and Harris do the impossible. By singing in unison, rather than solo, the song somehow becomes lonelier and more desperate. Will he hit the notes? Will they get together? It’s the definitive version of an American songbook classic. “Ooh Las Vegas”, a Parsons original with Rick Grech, is a fantastic rocker with clever lyrics about, perhaps the closet thing in the 1970s to the Old West. Those bass riffs that form the basis of the tune keep it moving at a driving speeding, giving plenty of room for Perkins’ own rhythmic phrases to duck in and out. The final Burton picked solo during the fade out leads the listener to the last second. The final number is a death bed plea full of, like the man himself, contradiction. “In My Hour of Darkness” is hopeful and exuberant but deadly and lulling. He really sounds like a man, at his wits end, who is trying to hold it together and sing the best he can gosh darn it. The Grand Ole Opry is collapsing around him but Parsons will keep belting through it all. The fact that this LP was released posthumously only enhances the last writ ambiance of the track. Harris, joined by Linda Rondstadt, creates a white gospel choir of heavenly angels lifting our balladeer away.


Those who shun country music on principal or are only using Carrie Underwood and Toby Keith as their examples, don’t know what they’re missing. Gram may not be “purist country” but he reflects the genre’s spirit and, as the song goes, “lived the life you sing about in your songs”. Hank Williams, where ever he is on that old lost highway, would be beaming.

CAN YOU FEEL IT BABE?

IGGY POP may reunite with JAMES WILLIAMSON for a RAW POWER Tour!

Fans of sweaty, greasy garage wailing were pleased as punch when in 2003 Iggy Pop reunited with Ron & Scott Asheton to reform their legendary psychedelic sludge-fest known as THE STOOGES. Along with Funhouse sax man Steve Mackay and Minuteman Mike Watt, the new Stooges played Coachella, released a horrible album, and toured the world fairly non-stop until Ron's tragic death from a heart attack this January.

In some ways, this seemed to put an end to one of the most topsy turvey careers in rock. However, there were some of us who wondered why the party had to end especially since so many fans of The Stooges had been disappointed by the almost complete absence of Raw Power, the boy's seminal 1973 screecher featuring James Williamson on guitar, Ron on bass, Scott on drums and David Bowie occasionally behind the boards. This lineup, more commonly known as Iggy and the Stooges, continued to tour until it imploded in a cloud of brown junk and derivative clunkers. Williamson and Pop continued to work together on and off through the end of the decade, at which point Williamson left the music business to pursue a career in electronics.

In a recent interview with The Australian, a (ahem) Australian online newspaper, Mr. Pop stated “I had a meeting in LA last week with James (Williamson). It was the first time we had seen each other in 30 years. So we talked about doing something together. Raw Power would be the repertoire.'' Pop said that while the original Stooges ended with Asheton's death, “there is always Iggy and the Stooges, the second growth of the band''.

Williamson had stated that he would certainly join The Stooges onstage if they were EVER inducted into the Rock-N-Roll Hall of Fame but didn't seem confidant about a full reunion. Let's hope he's changed his mind.

While we wait, Iggy is releasing a new Tom Waits-esque jazz inspired album called Preliminaires at the end of May.

THE MISFITS - STATIC AGE (1997, Caroline)

STATIC AGE

More than just a t-shirt!








Aah, those t-shirts. The "Misfits" t-shirt is as omnipresent as a "Che" t-shirt and just as irritating. Walk down St. Marks Place in NYC and you're bound to cross an endless amounts of tourist catering storefronts loaded to the brim with ghoulish grins plastered on cheap cotton/polyester blend. For years I avoided The Misfits for this reason alone but then I listened to their albums and lo and behold... they also blew. To some extent this is a side effect of time. Like an observational Seinfeld oneliner, The Misfits brand of bare bones but melodic punk, spun off from the Ramones and the Damned, has been done over and over again by any kid with a guitar and half a brain. Think about your high school talent show. I'm sure there was a gang of zit faced tykes in black eyeliner, inappropriately sandwiched between a Phish cover band and a chick with a guitar, banging out two cord rockers about death and other subjects that teenagers know a lot about. Today the angst ridden youth of America can choose between the more aggressive sceamo or the more pleadingly melodic emo to Live Journal to, thus making The Misfits' brand of punk seem as old as their parents. And, in 2008, like any band that has lasted nearly two decades, The Misfits have gone through countless line up changes to the point where it's only Jerry Only and his flock of seagulls carrying the B-Movie banner. (For evidence of this Misfits check out "Campfire Stories", a particularly crappy EC Comicesque horror flick starring the NY Dolls' David Johanson and Jamie Lynn "Meadow Soprano" Sigler. http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0244452/)

Then there's Static Age and this is a different Misfits all together. Culled from multiple EPs and unreleased recordings, all of which was ultimately released in 1997, Jerry Only and company create seventeen tracks of slightly depraved, truly original punk. Part of punk's initial appeal was that bands as wildly different as Blondie and The Clash could exist under the same banner but retain their uniqueness. This concept faltered when bands simply tried to replicate their successful counterparts, eventually falling into the same trap as the mainstream white boys club, albeit with a better fashion sense. Although they certainly pull inspiration for their beats and melodies from The Ramones and lyrical themes from The Cramps the combination, sealed in vibrato by Grenn Danzig, is completely original. It is Danzig's matinee croon that removes any real danger from their songs but makes them all the more eerie and unsettling. The opening one-two punch of satirical rebel rousing in "Static Age" and "T.V. Casualty" hooks you in while the two best songs come up next, the stadium sing-a-long "Some Kinda Hate" and the oddly beautiful "Last Caress" which features some great lyrics about killing a couple of babies and raping a few mothers sung by a man who is probably a weird opera fan who strangles cats in his basement. Later there's "Teenagers from Mars" and the great triple headed beast of "Hollywood Babylon" (possibly a reference to gay occult film director Kenneth Anger's memoir), the spectacular "Attitude" which is both tough and tuneful, and the Jackie/JFK saga "Bullet" which claims 'Texas is the reason that the Presidents Dead'. From time to time, I find myself mumbling the words "We are 138" as I wander down the street, often forgetting where I even heard that phrase. "Come Back" while noticibly longer than the other tracks, bounces along with rockabilly beat that would make Poison Ivy wilt.

Despite its seventeen tracks, this LP is a brisk listen with Only's bass being particularly catchy. Even more than Dee Dee's playing, Only's bass carries the theme of each song and gives the listener something to hold on to. Franche Coma provides guitar bursts that sound somewhere between Johnny Ramone and Steve Jones, though they are more vibrant riffage laid down on a Sex Pistols track all the while Mr. Jim pounds the toms like Tommy Ramone on a caffeine bender. Bellowing over the bray, Grenn Danzig, whose solo work has easily eclipsed his former bands' late career, is the unsung mystery man behind this album. Is he dark and depraved or just a guy whose seen a lot of H.G. Lewis movies? Does he want to listen to records by the Stooges or sit around the piano singing old Irving Berling standards? (Intrigue is important in a front man) Danzig is the most successful when he grabs a shining bit of 50s/early 60s pop culture and paints it black but not before adding a little humor (missing far too much in the later punk scene) and showmanship. He's the Roger Corman of rock!

With Static Age, Danzig and his Misfits prove they had the ability to be true masters of the 1:30 song a gift which unfortunately escaped them in later years. Like the gore filled, schlocky horror films, surviving on low budgets and big tits, Static Age thrills, amuses and keeps you dancing on the graves of the uptight squares.

WHAT IS APEMAN HOP?

This blog will be dedictated to essaying albums, singles, and live performances from rock'n'roll acts, as well as their predecessors and followers, from yesteryear, today, and tomorrow.

It will also include reviews of and postings about rock'n'roll happenings in the Big Apple.

It is the mission of this blog to encourage and explore music that follows in the footsteps of Chuck Berry, Little Richard, Bo Diddley, Elvis, the Ramones, MC5, the Rolling Stones, Half Japanese, and any other act that just wanted to boogie woogie (and quite possibly get laid). In this sense it will avoid acts that could be considered more "pop" than "rock".

Little Robbie Reverb, a native a New Jersey, is the vocalist for The Black on Brown and currently resides in NYC.

ROLLING STONES - SOME GIRLS (1978, Rolling Stones Records)

SOME GIRLS

Hodge-Podge Rock from the Glimmer Twins, true masters of mishmash music.

If two businesses that market the same product are in competition said contention should create a better piece of merchandise on both sides. For several wayward years leading up to Some Girls, the Rolling Stones coasted on the assumption that their age old, dual guitar riffs and Mickey’s cockeyed lyrics but never forced delivery would be all they needed to reign supreme as the “Greatest Rock and Roll Band in the World”. This postulation, that they were the “end all, be all” of popular music, whether they tried or not, resulted in several hit and miss (and at their worst cringe worthy) albums and songs in the years following their gargantuan 1972 world tour in support of Exile on Main St. While the three post-Exile LPs certainly all have their share of gems, the group was marred by the departure of Mick Taylor, too much Billy Preston, and with the absence of an outside producer, the fledgling and often shaky productions of The Glimmer Twins. It took the finally-in-place Ronnie Wood, who had been covertly lending the Stones his talents since It’s Only Rock and Roll, a greater command of the boards, and perhaps most of all, the competition raised by the punk and new wave movements to shock life into age old chords and clichés.

When folks talk about Some Girls, they are always keen to bring up the influence that punk and disco had on the Stones, namely Mick Jagger, but these genres are only remotely audible on this album. Of course “Miss You” has a disco beat but it’s all a little too organic and what disco song ever had a blues harp perform the main hook. Certainly “When the Whip Comes Down” and “Shattered” have snarls and punk-lite cords and beats but most punks wouldn’t include a pedal steel solo. Instead, most of this album is cut and dry Stones but the material sounds fresher and is played more vibrantly then anything since 1973 with this recording featuring only the core band (keyboards on just two songs!) and a revitalized guitar sound with Jagger and Woodie weaving around Keith’s grounded contributions. “Respectable”, “Lies”, and “Some Girls” are all standard Stones fair, albeit with more speed in the formers' case. They all sound great despite a bit of dust, especially “Respectable” which consist of repetition upon repetition, a common Jagger/Richards technique. “Shattered” is just a weird track and the choice to use the “phaser” effect on the guitars may have sounded great in 1978 but now rings hopelessly dated. On that subject, Keith and his cronies have always sounded uncomfortable with wah-wah, Leslie speakers and the like. To see the true punk edge that "Shattered" holds try the distortion heavy, low-fi recording by Richard Hell and The Voidoids (with searing Bob Quine guitar) from their live compilation Time which also features a bonkers version of “Ventilator Blues”.

The radio favorites “Miss You” and “Beast of Burden” transcend their classic rock DJ fetish to become statements by this aging band. On “Miss You”, Billy Wyman, who often struggles with anything that’s not a standard walking blues bass line, fits his throbs in perfectly between Charlie’s rather wack-a-mole take on the four on the floor beat. Ian MacLaglan’s electric piano seems at first quite noticeable but quickly merges into the songs fabric. Above it all Jagger seems to be having a hell of a time. For the first time in years he has new lyrical subjects and aspirations, somewhere between Lou Reed and David Johanson, and seems his most malevolently dance crazy since “Star Star”. The boys seem to be enjoying themselves on “Imagination” and it doesn’t sound like THE mandatory soul cover included on most of their albums around these last two decades. In fact, with its Keith & Ronnie backing vox and ringing chords, this "Imagination" has much more in common with 60s blue eyed garage soul than with The Tempations, who recorded the original version in 1971, a mere seven years earlier. “Far Away Eyes” may make some people cringe but Jagger has always been wry and cheeky and I love to hear him drawl on about “music on the colored radio station”. When Keith and Ronnie add their harmonies on the chorus the song bursts to life and becomes more then a put on. Speaking of Keith, his solo turn on "Before They Make Me Run" is one of his better. In later years he immersed himself in ballads or pointless, poorly written rockers but here his occasionally double tracked vocals really stand out as do his Tin Pan Alley cum cowboy lyrics about “booze, and pills, and powders”. Both “Before TheyMake Me Run” and the LP’s best track “When the Whip Comes Down” feature pedal steel guitar breaks by Ronnie which really enliven both of these non-country songs in a way not usually found in rock music. “Whip” features one of the all time best Jagger couplets: “Mama and Papa told me I was crazy to stay/a gay in New York was just a fag in LA”. Here we are presented with a bored, materialistic hustler who doesn’t much care that he’s “plugging a hole” as long as he’s getting something in return. Returning to their buried vocals approach, when you do hear the lyrics they are full of clever turns of phrase with a great enigmatic chorus consisting of only the title. Deep in the mix, Charlie pounds away with a volatility never heard from him before.

Radio play may have diluted Some Girls' power and its unofficial title as “the baby boomer generations favorite Stones album” doesn't help. But this LP may be their last great LP, right down to its cover. The cover, a mock up of old magazine fashion ads featuring the Stones in cut & paste drag (not the first time) is pastiche art. The music, with its gloriously jumbled mess of ragged country, amped-up soul, rough edged punk, and Studio 54 dance strut results in pastiche music which is essentially rock'n'roll itself.