Published on Aug 17, 1999
With all the talk about “Generation X” and “Generation Y,” it’s
a wonder why I don’t have some sort of gender identity crisis going
on.
People were all ready to place the blame card on the “Generation
Y” crowd for the debacle known as “Woodstock ’99.” And true to a
25-year-old, I muttered, “All we ever did was throw some mud at
Green Day at OUR Woodstock.” But some baby boomers are pointing the
blame like a pre-retirement Grampa Simpson saying “For shaaaaame,
for shaaame.”
Before any baby boomer can bitch about Woodstock ’99, they
should first get that one nugget from their memory banks, filed
under: Altamont. For those unfamiliar (please say there isn’t that
many) with Altamont, it was a free concert thrown by The Rolling
Stones. Proof that ignorance is not bliss, the Stones hired the
Hell’s Angels as security for the concerts. In that heated
environment, four people lost their lives.
Altamont transpired on the cusp of the release of
Let It Bleed, which was considered by Mick Jagger in an
interview with
Rolling Stone to be a superior album to
Exile On Main St. By listening to the opening chords of
“Gimmie Shelter,” you can almost smell the smoke and see the napalm
like clouds rolling in. It remains one of the darkest songs
recorded by the Stones, particularly enhanced by Keith Richards’
distorted guitar.
Aside from the usual tension between Richards and Jagger, much
of
Let It Bleed was plauged by the departure of Brian Jones,
one of the original members of the Stones. Though his role in
Let It Bleed was reduced to playing percussion on a couple
of tracks, he was formally kicked out during its recording. Jones
died on July 3, 1969.
“Gimmie Shelter” and “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” were
by far the most ambitious songs on the album. It’s probably not a
coincidence that they provide the bookends of
Let It Bleed. “You Can’t Always Get What You Want,” boasts a
beautiful, soaring choir, provided by the London Bach. To fully
appreciate the epic nature of both songs, there’s even an
instruction printed at the bottom of the liner notes: This Record
Should Be Played Loud. You damn right.
The rest of the album dabbles between sinister rockers and a
humbled effort to get more in touch with blues. When I first heard
the
Let It Bleed version of “Country Honk,” I was totally taken
aback. I was expecting the glossy version I heard on the radio,
with the bar crowd chant of “She’s a hoooonky tonk woman.” Instead
I got a Memphis delta like sound, complete with fiddle and slide
guitar. It took some time to get used to, but it’s my favorite of
the two now.
You could tell that the irons in the Stones’ fire were about
ready to melt down throughout much of
Let It Bleed. While the entire album is one of their most
passionate efforts to date, you could tell by the weary sound of
Jagger’s voice that all was not well. Tracks like the lonesome “You
Got The Silver” gave Richards some of his best moments on vocals
and the abrasive “Monkey Man” made the listener feel like they were
as strung out as Ray Liotta’s character was at the end of
Goodfellas.
Perhaps the most sinister track on
Let It Bleed was the Charles Manson era track, “Midnight
Rambler.” The track, almost seven minutes long, follows the trail
of a killer as they prowl into their victim’s household – once
again proving
Let It Bleed is an album etched in black.
For all the talk about how violent the music is in today’s
world, it’s a wonder that an album like
Let It Bleed could top the charts some thirty odd years ago.
It was a perfect album to end the sixties as youthful ideology and
activism gradually eroded into cynicism and in cases like Altamont,
violence. It may have been a snapshot of the fringe elements of
society at that time, but it was an unforgettable shot.