Hot Rocks - The Greatest Hits 1964-1971 by Rolling Stones, The

Album cover for Hot Rocks - The Greatest Hits 1964-1971 - Rolling Stones, The
A1. Time Is On My Side
A2. Heart Of Stone
A3. Play With Fire
A4. (I Can't Get No) Satisfaction
A5. As Tears Go By
A6. Get Off My Cloud
B1. Mother's Little Helper
B2. 19th Nervous Breakdown
B3. Paint It, Black
B4. Under My Thumb
B5. Ruby Tuesday
B6. Let's Spend The Night Together
C1. Jumping Jack Flash
C2. Street Fighting Man
C3. Sympathy For The Devil
C4. Honky Tonk Women
C5. Gimme Shelter
D1. Midnight Rambler (Live)
D2. You Can't Always Get What You Want
D3. Brown Sugar
D4. Wild Horses

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.