Posts tagged ‘vintage’

Buried treasure usually stays buried for a reason. Someone, a pirate perhaps, buries the treasure so no one can get at it. A massive half-way to China hole is excavated in the Earth-crust.  This hole is most often dug deep in a deep woods, or in the middle of an expansive wide open field void of markers. Intricate maps are created on parchment or in glyphs or codes to confuse poachers and crooks and jackpot seekers.

Treasures are usually buried for a reason. In a basement in the south of France, in a mystical castle called Villa Nellcote, a cache of treasure lay buried for nearly forty-years. This treasure is not the booty that you would expect.  Once opened one finds a chest not full of rubies, gems and gold bouillons; rather it is filled with relics covered in grime and sweat, funk and mould, a little bit of country and a whole lotta rock and roll.

The treasure in question belongs to those old rock and roll pirates (“Ladies and Gentlemen…”) The Rolling Stones. The graybeards of rock and roll are releasing their masterwork, Exile on Main St. and giving it the whiz-bang, full-assed, super-deluxe treatment. The question myself and many others punters with a keyboard across the interworld are asking is, “should we have dug up these old bones?”

Well of course the answer is yes. If you are a natural born Stones freak, you want access to this music (treasure). You want to hear the legendary, long-lost tracks (“Aladdin’s Story”) or hear the early versions of classic riff-monsters (“Good Time Women” cum “Tumblin’ Dice”).  You want to hear the nuances in a Keef lick; can you trace back his sound today to way back then; has it matured?; does it still have its youthful kick?; is it knowing or is it naïve?; does he still kick ass? (Fuck yes)

I want to eat these tunes alive…feel a little blood spurt out when I bite in. I can’t get enough.  But, there is a bit of a bad taste in my mouth. As reported and confirmed, some of these old ‘70’s tunes have been given the sonic twenty-ten brush-up. Despite Keef’s claims of “not screwing up the bible” and “not painting a smile on the goddamned Mona Lisa”…there is another mule kicking in this stall.

There are ten tracks that were unburied to celebrate this rerelease. The fun (or forced) part of listening to them is to play, Spot the New Mick Vocal Track. Fuck me. Why? Why did they have to do this?  The magic and the mystery of ‘Exile’ was represented in those dirty and desperate times. The debauched displacement that was their predicament was embedded in the grooves of this double-disc, dirge and surge, mishmash masterpiece.

Let it Breathe. You don’t uncork a 40 year old scotch whiskey and try to add fresh barley. Let it Breathe, Mick…no matter how foul the smell.

Oh, Mick. You ego-fucking-tistical bastard, you. You never did like the mix of your vox on the first go ‘round. The word was that you were lost in the sound, no one could understand the lyrics and you there you were standing in the shadows, baby.  No one had a problem with it…well, except for you. If you ever did have dirt underneath your fingernails, you cleaned your claws before anyone could see you’d been digging in the yard. They say that cleanliness is next to Godliness; mate, you shouldn’t aim so high.

Your very own soul brother, ol’ Mr. Rock & Roll himself, always had dirt under his nails…and made no attempt to clean up for the cameras. The Riff Sorcerer knew then and knows now not to mess with Mother Nature; Exile on Main St. is an organic thing of beauty, not an act of god.

Ok, there is still some soil on these songs. Not all of it has a glossy new coat of paint. All up, I haven’t heard each of them in their new release form (I have most all on bootlegs).  The ones I have heard still have me tapping toes and flapping a chicken-wing  even though they have some 2010 on them. For instance, take the single, “Plundered My Soul”.