Forty Licks by The Rolling Stones
Forty Licks, like Elvis' 30 #1 Hits, is a career-spanning compilation that wouldn't have happened without the unprecedented, blockbuster success of Beatles 1. Where Elvis' set is hurt by the simple fact that there are too many damn Elvis comps on the market, the Rolling Stones benefit greatly from the fact that there has not been any set that chronicles all their recordings from the '60s through the '90s. It also benefits that this is the concept behind the record -- it's meant to be a journey through their biggest songs, not just the number one hits. Of course, the Stones couldn't have had a CD containing just their number ones that spanned one disc, much less two, because they never topped the charts that frequently. This is a liberating thing (compare it to Elvis', which got weighed down with the number ones, resulting in some subpar selections), since it opens the door for almost every Stones song of note to feature on this collection, along with four new songs (not great, but solid songs, all). Sure, there are many great Rolling Stones moments missing, and not just fan favorites Beggars Banquet or Exile on Main St., either -- "Play With Fire," "2000 Light Years From Home," "Tell Me," "Heart of Stone," "Doo Doo Doo Doo Doo (Heartbreaker)," "Lady Jane," "Time Is on My Side," "Waiting on a Friend," "I'm Free," and "We Love You" are all missing in action. The thing is, as the disc is playing, you don't miss any of them, and it feels like all the hits are here. At first, the nonchronological order seems to be a mistake, but both discs flow well, especially since they're roughly divided thematically (the first is devoted largely to the '60s, with the rest on the second). Yes, the Stones made great albums that should be in any serious rock collection, but if you just want a summary of their best moments, Forty Licks is it; it does its job as well as Beatles 1 did.
Part of loving 1976’s <i>Black and Blue</i>—and there’s a lot to love—is letting go of what you expect from The Rolling Stones. They were still a rock band, if rock was what you wanted: “Hand of Fate” could’ve been on <i>Beggars Banquet</i> and “Crazy Mama” on <i>Exile on Main St.</i> But where <i>Goats Head Soup</i> and <i>It’s Only Rock ’n’ Roll</i> worked to keep continuity with the sound they developed in the late ’60s, <i>Black and Blue</i> didn’t bother trying.<br /> Jagger had moved to New York and fallen in love with funk and disco (“Hot Stuff”, “Hey Negrita”); Keith Richards with reggae (“Cherry Oh Baby”). Mick Taylor left the band and Ron Wood joined, stripping out the guitar solos and moving back towards pure rhythm. The songs were short, the grooves were long, and the performances—Jaggers’s, especially—combined sex and humour in ways they never had before. That “Hot Stuff” was the band’s first song to make the R&B charts since “19th Nervous Breakdown” 10 years earlier made sense: Not since their early albums had they sounded so connected to Black music, or so joyfully indebted to it.<br /> The critic Lester Bangs called it the “first meaningless Rolling Stones album”. An insult, of course—but it could’ve just as well been a compliment. After the relentless significance of the band’s late-’60s and early-’70s run—the politics, the violence, the cultural referenda—<i>Black and Blue</i> felt like a liberation, like fresh air. They sounded funny, weird and alive. And when they downshifted for the ballads (“Memory Motel” and the classic “Fool to Cry”), they did so with a softness that penetrated deeper than any heavy-handed approach might.
