My All-Timers: 23. The Rolling Stones — Sticky Fingers

Last week we were taking our dog Dottie on a walk around the neighborhood into which we just moved. It is not a cool neighborhood. I’ve mostly seen white people. A guy down the street occasionally flies the Don’t Tread On Me flag. It’s not oozing with hipness. But on this evening stroll, we passed a house that had, amidst its various lawn decorations, a big rock with the Rolling Stones tongue painted onto it.
You can take this as a sign that The Rolling Stones stopped being cool long ago. They settled into the stadium circuit literally over three decades ago, where they have played for rich people and the working class who can scrape together the cash to see them. They are an ingrained part of the world’s culture, and it has been generations since they rocked anyone’s boat. But I think for a band to achieve the relevance that they have, it comes down to an unavoidable fact: their songs are just that damn good. This will come up again in a few months when I write about The Beatles.
The Stones record that gets the most attention is probably Exile on Main Street, and while I love a large portion of it, it’s just a bit too bloated and muddy. Let It Bleed and Beggar’s Banquet are fantastic too. But the one record that serves as the perfect distillation of The Rolling Stones is, for me, Sticky Fingers.
I don’t need to say a whole lot about the two biggest hits from this record: “Brown Sugar” and “Wild Horses.” Okay, maybe I should mention that “Brown Sugar” has some highly troublesome lyrics about slaves and sex that mean no harm but sure don’t fit well in 2017. But that stomping groove sure does. And “Wild Horses” is the band’s first true ballad, etched into rock history because of its boozy declaration of undying love. Those songs are famous for good reason.
But let me tell you about some of the not-as-famous songs. “Can’t You Hear Me Knocking” — you’ve maybe heard that, but take a moment to appreciate the scorching riff that drives the song. Keith Richards says it was super easy to write, and there should be no shame in that. Use simple chords but find the rhythm and groove that will set it off, and you’re good to go. And The Stones are so good that they abandon the riff about four minutes in, and then it becomes an excellent Santana-ish jam that it turns out happened totally by accident in the studio. They didn’t even mean to be awesome, it just naturally unfolded that way.
As good as that song’s riff may be, I think my favorite Stones riff of all time is the main one that runs through “Bitch.” It is another simply constructed riff that isn’t overly flashy. If I can easily play it, then you know it’s not virtuosic. But again, simplicity leads to catchiness and this riff here is all about the starts and stops and the accents. Charlie Watts does that extra snare hit on the “DUN-DUN” and I just can’t get enough of it. UGH, it’s such a good riff that I could probably listen to it for the rest of my life.
Then you have “Dead Flowers,” the absolute best country song the Stones ever wrote. Mick Jagger desperately wanted to be a Deep South redneck, and it’s so apparent here — Jagger’s fake Southern accent borders on parody, but you know he means every bit of it. The lyrics are achingly funny, reflecting on the divide between estranged lovers leading very different lives. There was never a more honest lyric (probably penned by Keith) than, “I’ll be in my basement room with a needle and a spoon, and another girl to take my pain away.” Keith’s autobiography confirmed that this is exactly how he lived for many years, and it’s a reminder that the saddest lyrics can sometimes be true.
Sticky Fingers ends with a downright lovely song called “Moonlight Mile” that you should listen to immediately. It contains no blues, no rock’n’roll, none of the typical Stones traits you know. It’s just this swelling piece of sound that uses elements of rock’n’roll, to be sure, but somehow it just transcends everything else on this record. It’s the only song with strings, and they come in at the end in these stuttering bursts that actually go along with the guitar riffs, instead of completely washing over them or acting as background. Music writer Steven Hyden wrote that this is the best Rolling Stones song ever, and I’d be hard pressed to tell him he’s wrong. It’s not my favorite, but it’s a real gem.
It’s funny — as I started writing this week, I thought to myself, “Do I really like Sticky Fingers this much? My 23rd favorite of all time??” I think I have such thoughts because I am conditioned to push aside world-famous music in favor of more obscure acts. But then I put on Sticky Fingers on the vintage stereo console we just bought, and it sounded so goddamn good that all doubt was erased.
