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Given that most of the songs were recorded by what was basically a four-piece band – newbie Mick Taylor turns up unobtrusively on a couple of tracks but otherwise Keith takes care of all the guitar stuff - the dynamics are pretty dynamic. Yet, despite the loss of Brian, they sound and feel in far better shape than the Scousers as the seventies beckon where Abbey Road is largely midtempo, somewhat gloomy and halflit in its introspective retrospection, Let It Bleed, despite the tracks which open each of its sides, is intent on living, on colour and interaction. The Stones have been absent from this tale since mid-1966 unlike the Beatles, they did not score automatic number ones – there is little in the blood of Satanic Majesties or Beggars’ Banquet to attract the love of Arbroath grandmothers.
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As far as this tale is concerned it is the last word of the sixties but there is nothing in the record’s riverrun grooves to suggest that the group wanted it to be anybody or anything’s last word. This is not the language of mourning, nor it is particularly indicative of disguised grief. “THIS RECORD SHOULD BE PLAYED LOUD” it commands at another. “HARD KNOX AND DURTY SOX” the cover exclaims at one point. It was, of course, all about appearances. But then all of the Beatles had managed to survive until the end of the decade. The Stones, in contrast, appeared to will the weight to crush them, squash them. The integral piece, now missing.Ĭonsider the four Beatles, crossing the road and never to return, at least not together they have the weight on them (“Boy you’re gonna carry that weight!”) but appear to wear it lightly. The five figurines are slacking around in a right unfit state – but one slice has been neatly cut and taken from the cake. The rear cover demonstrates the inevitable outcome all has fallen, the record is shattered and the only ingredient which remains intact is Delia’s cake. After all, who built all that stuff up in the first place? It is as though the weight of the sixties is set to detonate, release, collapse on the Rolling Stones. Next to it is an antique gramophone arm and needle, and I leave you to determine your own analogies there. Above all this is a cake, reportedly prepared by the young Delia Smith, featuring the figures of five lovable mopped tops which never quite represented the group right at the bottom, petrified by the imminent interchange, a long-playing record, with five unconcerned faces adorning its blood-red label. There is also a tyre – with the potential for burning – a pizza and a film canister. The Robert Brownjohn sculpture on the cover sums the time up, so accurately in fact that he remembers to include a clock. (Greil Marcus, review of Let It Bleed, Rolling Stone, 27 December 1969)
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“…the force of the new vulnerability blurs the old stance of arrogance and contempt.”
![the rolling stones let it bleed the rolling stones let it bleed](https://img.cdandlp.com/2020/03/imgL/119888125.jpg)
(Boris Vian, “Rock And Roll,” 1956, trans. The obsessional quality of the riff is used to put listeners in a ‘trance’.”
#The rolling stones let it bleed full#
“The erotic lyrics of black blues, often very amusing and almost always perfectly healthy and full of good feeling, have been systematically deformed and exploited by small white bands composed of bad musicians (such as Bill Haley) in order to produce a sort of ridiculous tribal chant for the benefit of an idiotic public. (Boris Vian, “Les Joyeux Bouchers,” 1956)