Rocks Off

Today is the day, #StartMeUpWednesday, and even though I have no idea how I'm going to get a ticket, I am beside myself with anticipation to the point of being so distracted I can hardly sit still at my desk.

What a fantastic day this is- there will be at least four Rolling Stones concerts in California next month.

Here is the Rolling Stones song of the day:

By the way, did anyone else find it telling of the times that the tour announcement was made via YouTube and the campaign conducted almost exclusively through social media?

Rock and a Hard Place

I just committed a huge wad of cash to Prince tickets and damn it, I knew this was going to happen. I just knew it. Time to put on a kind face.

Which leads me to your Rolling Stones song of the day:

GRRR! You Can't Always Get What You Want

So after about three weeks of hype that something major was to be announced today, setting tongues wagging across the globe, The Rolling Stones disappointed pretty much everyone with the news: GRRR!, their 31st compilation featuring two new tracks recorded last month, will be released in November. It's now unlikely that albums comprised entirely of new material will ever outnumber the compilations.

Also rumored, but yet to be confirmed, are four concerts- two at the Brooklyn Barclays Center on December 6th  and 7th and another pair in London on November 26th and 27th. These dates do come on the heels of GRRR!'s release, so perhaps there is more to come, including the rumored last gig that will take place at next year's Glastonbury Festival.

One bit of good news is the release of the documentary "Crossfire Hurricane," also in November, which will be shown in the U.S. on HBO. Hopefully for those of us who don't feel the need to subscribe to cable television, there will be other alternatives to view the film.

For those of us waiting patiently for a 50th anniversary tour, the news is disappointing. But you know, you can't always get what you want. And that's your Rolling Stones Song of the Day.

Sympathy for the Devil

Pleased to meet you...

Last week I wrote of the Oakland show Charlie and I attended and it's been on my mind sporadically since. I realized the Stones were in peak form that night as they began "Sympathy for the Devil." The intro sounded more tribal than I've ever heard it performed before, permeated with menace. It stands as my favorite experience of hearing them live. When I was a kid it was a cool-sounding song, but the lyrics were really a bit beyond my comprehension- they hinted at things I just hadn't experienced in life- and wouldn't for some time.

Please allow me to introduce myself, I'm a man of wealth and taste...

My first visit to New York City was in 1992. On the Saturday night I was there I went to see Miss Saigon and during the intermission I met a woman with whom I dined after the show. We had a long, leisurely meal and conversed about theater, New York, and the perils of childhood celebrity. She told amusing and tawdry anecdotes about her youth and her peers, many of which were enormously entertaining.

Later that night after we parted, I went down to the Village in search of a piano bar and ended up at Arthur's tavern, which wasn't very crowded. Al Bundy was playing that night. The place had a horseshoe-shaped rail around the piano, and I was seated opposite Bundy. 


A short time later two men strode in, both impeccably dressed. One looked to be in his late 20's, perhaps early 30's, Latino, handsome and well-groomed. The other easily in his 50's, a faintly regal air about him, hawk-nosed, sharp eyes, an impressive head of hair. He wore the most gorgeous overcoat I had ever seen. I think it was black cashmere.

They sat down to my left and in a short time we were engaged in a convivial conversation. The younger man was Cuban, the older Bulgarian. They had previously met in Miami and were now on a first date weekend. Their names were Carlos and Augustin.

After another half hour or so, only a couple of other people had come into the bar and the three of us were pretty much the only lively patrons. Augustin, the Bulgarian, abruptly broke the thread and asked me if I'd like to accompany them to another club. I declined, saying this would be my last stop of the night. We chatted on a bit, and then he asked me again if I would like to join them. Again I declined, and the conversation carried forward. 

Augustin made one more attempt, this time adding they had a lovely car to ride around in. Carlos leaned over to me and assured me I would truly enjoy the car. It wasn't that I'm a car enthusiast so much as a growing curiosity about where this all might lead which led me to agree to join them. I'd never met anyone quite like these two.

"Drago! Warm up the car!" Augustin barked to no one I could see in his thick accent, which gave every word an extra syllable and consonant.

I hadn't noticed him before- he must have been behind a curtain or something- but suddenly this incredibly tall man who looked somewhat like Dolph Lundgren impersonating the Addams Family butler appeared before us wearing the whole ensemble- cap, long coat with epaulets and piping, gloves- it was ridiculously fantastic. He nodded at Augustin and without saying a word headed for the door. 

As Drago was outside warming up the car, we put on our coats. Carlos again assured me I would enjoy the car. He said it was a very special car.

Stepping outside, there it was, parked in the street, gleaming. I helplessly smiled, then laughed. There stood Drago in all his finery, holding open the rear door of an old Rolls Royce.

"This is the car?" I asked, not knowing what else to say.

"Yes," beamed Carlos.

"Do get in, please," said beckoned Augustin.

Carlos got in first, I followed, and the Rolls' owner behind me. We all sat in a row on the back seat, I was in the middle. It was my first time in a Rolls (and so far, my only time). It smelled like a leather bakery. Everything was immaculately polished. It looked like it had just come off a showroom floor.

"This is a 1955 Rolls Royce Silver Dawn and I only furnish it with things from the year 1955," Augustin said with relish as he opened the bar and spread his hand before the contents, "that includes the liquor and the music."

He took three crystal glasses from their designated place and laid them with precision on an inlaid tray. He suddenly seemed quite sober. Carlos leaned over to me and said, "Beautiful, isn't it? He picked me up from the airport in this. I couldn't believe it."

I couldn't believe it myself.

Some music started playing- I think it was Sarah Vaughan. Drago pulled away from the club and we starting cruising through the streets of the Village, chatting away. Augustin handed me a business card. It was the kind that folded, with lots of embossing on the front, which bore a crest and something in Cyrillic script, with the name of his eponymous foundation underneath in Roman. I opened it and read the addresses in Sofia, Paris, and New York and thought to myself who the hell is this guy?


My host suddenly faced forward and said languidly "Drago, take us to the Spike."

A look of brief alarm crossed over Carlos' eyes and the name of the place set off a bell in the back of my brain. Soon I noticed we were driving along the waterfront. Before I left for the City people had assured me New York was perfectly safe- "just stay away from the waterfront at night," everyone said, and now we were driving along it headed toward the Spike, which certainly didn't sound as cheery as Arthur's Tavern. I noticed the buildings and streets started to look deserted and empty. Then up ahead I saw a crowd on the street and a lone light bulb suspended above a dingy-looking place. We pulled up in front of a leather bar.


Augustin almost bounded out the door of the car when Drago opened the door for him, and he followed his driver to the rear of the car as he opened up the trunk. When Carlos and I got out Augustin was removing his overcoat, followed by the coat of his suit, and handed them to Drago, who placed them carefully in the trunk. Drago then lifted a fringed, black leather jacket from the trunk of the car and assisted Augustin in putting it on. He looked ridiculous, but his face bore a distinct look of satisfaction.


Carlos whispered in my ear, "This isn't my thing. Let's have one drink and then I'll get us a cab- I'm sorry about this- I'll give you a lift anywhere you need to go."


"Shall we, gentlemen?" our host asked, escorting us through the nasty-looking throng gathered in front of the bar's scuzzy entryway.


I won't describe the interior- it was too dark and grimy to be even amusing. A large percentage of the clientele looked either ill, desperate, or angry, in many instances a combination of all three in equal proportions. I noticed the bandannas right away.


We walked up to the bar, behind which stood a dead ringer for Mr. T.. Augustin immediately gave him an attitude, which was returned in spades. I thought there was going to be a fight, which would have easily been a massacre- Augustin was no match for this guy at all, but that didn't stop him from jerking his chain non-stop from moment he spoke to him, every word soaked in derision.


Carlos told Augustin he wanted to leave. 


"Just one drink!" Augustin protested.

Carlos moped, then ordered. "I can't stay here- I hate this scene," he said to me.

Feeling stuck, not really knowing what to do, and at a loss for something, anything to talk about, I asked Augustin what the bandannas meant.

And did I regret that. He gave me the entire rundown, illustrating what each color meant by singling out someone in the bar and then describing in great detail what he was seeking, announced by the color his of bandanna. He finally turned his attention to a thin, pale, very sick-looking young man, a boy really, who leaned up against a post while a bear attempted to maul him. Augustin then described in explicit detail, a certain glee underneath his sadistic leer, of what he was going to do to the young man. And that was really it for Carlos, who grabbed me by the arm and escorted me out into the night, straight into a cab, back to Midtown. Along the way he apologized profusely and asked if I was free the next day. I said I had plans, which was true, but even if I didn't, I would have said the same. As we said farewell to one another, he handed me his business card. Carlos was a doctor. I wished him well for the rest of the weekend.

Augustin, this one's for you. You are indeed a man of wealth and taste, with a penchant for fisting strangers. I still have your business card. Woo woo.

And if you've never seen it, here's the Altamont performance from the film Gimme Shelter, still unnerving all these years later:

And happy birthday, Mick.

Monkey Man

What can I say? I know it's been days since I've put up anything, including the Stones song of the day. I have no excuse, except perhaps because I was gouged and I was gored, but I pulled on through....

If one were to declare Let it Bleed to be the best Rolling Stones album they certainly wouldn't get an argument from me, and on some days, I might even agree.

Hand of Fate

It's been two months since the Femme Fatale met her demise. Today's Rolling Stone song commemorates not her untimely death, but her violent legacy. There were a number of contenders for this, including, not surprisingly, a couple from Dirty Work, but after thinking it over this one from Black and Blue  sums it up best: He shot me once, but I shot him twice.

Love is Strong

New Year's Eve, 1993. I'd been seeing a woman named Anastassia, a cabaret singer, for a couple of months and she was singing that night at the Mason Street Wine Bar. I got there around 10 PM- the place was pretty packed but I managed to catch her eye as I walked in door. She growled a line of "My Funny Valentine" and gave me a wink.

I looked around for a place to hang fire for the next couple of hours. Not much room, then I noticed a guy standing at the bar in a white dinner jacket- an act of old-school defiance I could appreciate. There was an empty space next to him. Anyone with the balls to where an outfit like that in this town was someone I could be friends with, so I introduced myself to Charlie and asked him what a finely-dressed fellow like himself was doing there on New Year's Eve.

It turned out he was hoping to meet Anastassia. He wanted to start singing around town and the bar's owners, with whom he was long friends, suggested he try to charm her into accompanying him on a couple of songs if not this night, then sometime in the future. I told him I'd be happy to facilitate an introduction. Thus started a legendary friendship which continues to this day, albeit in greatly altered form, which in its early years revolved around three things- booze, women, and music. God, I miss those days.

Charlie could do a near-perfect imitation of Robert DeNiro and sing like Tony Bennett. He also liked the Rolling Stones and when Voodoo Lounge came out and started appearing on jukeboxes in the bars we frequented across the City he would always include "Love is Strong" when he put some money in, and then sing it like DeNiro doing Jagger and to this day I can still see his ridiculously curled-up sneer vividly in my mind, relishing the lyrics, "You make me hard, you make me weak," to some dame on a stool. It worked absurdly well, because it was designed to be nothing more.

Months later we went to see the Voodoo Lounge tour when it came to Oakland. We ended up with seats right near the little stage that popped-up somewhere near 2nd base. It was the best Stones show I've seen to date. In fact it was fucking amazing.

The video for "Love is Strong" is delightfully stupid nonsense directed by David Fincher before he started making films. High on style and completely devoid of substance, it perfectly mirrors the song in that way, which has typically banal lyrics but some incredibly incendiary guitar work. Those four piercing notes on each side of the line "What are you scared of, baby?" just could not be more perfectly placed.

But it's the 100 feet-tall version of the Stones traipsing across New York City in the video that link Charlie, the Oakland show, and the song in my mind. On the way home that night, I met a girl on BART. From where I was seated she looked to have been at least 6' tall (in fact she was 6'3") and she had on boots with four-inch heels. I've always admired such statements, but it was Charlie, drunk, who prodded me to chat her up. I had dismissed the thought as soon it entered my mind because while she really tall, she also looked really young.

And she was. 10 years younger than I in fact, but that turned out to work in my favor that winter as I spent most of in the company of that tall, young, traveling nurse, who had a thing for shorter, somewhat older guys. We made a beautiful team. Charlie and I, that is.

Before They Make Me Run

Today's Rolling Stones song of the day is dedicated to Bashar al-Assad. Your father would be proud of you.

Pass the Wine (Sophia Loren)

I'm glad to be alive and kicking...
My blood is up, my pulse is quickening..

For days now, I've had this song in my head, often from the moment I first awake, its lyrics taunting me with their near-perfect encapsulation of my current existence, its shuffling funkiness accompanying me from the bed into the kitchen and later into the street, where I often spot the one-legged hooker heading home on her crutches while I'm sitting there with my first cup of coffee and a cigarette, hearing ... Sometimes things don't work out the way you want, I don't know if I'm gonna laugh or cry... Got to be alive and kicking, glad to see the plot is thickening... so pass me the wine, and let's make some love.

What Sophia Loren has to do with any of this is beyond me, but since it is Sophia Loren who really cares. If I were to create a video for this tune it would have to use the scene above from Ieri, Oggi, Domani. Looking at that photo it reminds me that Marcello Mastroianni is the only actor I ever really wanted to be.

The harmonica playing is Jagger's. Out of all the bonus tracks on the Exile re-issue, this one is my favorite, though it sounds to me like it belongs on Tattoo You.

Sometimes things don't work out the way you want
I wonder why, I wonder why - ah yeah
Sometimes mistakes come back to haunt you, babe
And I don't know whether to laugh or cry, yeah...

Slave

"Slave" is my favorite song from Tattoo You. Always has been, always will be. I didn't imagine the band ever made a video for it, so while I was looking for an online version of it this morning I was surprised to learn there were a few out there, as well as this juicy little tidbit I was unaware of- that the song was originally recorded in 1975 as "Black and Blue Jam"- which makes sense, as it could have easily fit the style of that album. An alternate title from 1975 is "Vagina." That makes sense to me too. That version has a harder edge, more guitar-oriented, lacks vocals and is missing the sax solo which would later be provided by Sonny Rollins.

Apparently there are at least four different versions of "Slave" floating out there (if you know of more, leave a comment why dontcha?), and while it was tempting to post the longest, it's not the most interesting. The band pretty much got it right on the version released on the album, which features the best vocal track. The eleven-minute long version is has some really interesting stuff toward the end, where the reggae influence suddenly smacks you in the head at about seven and a half minutes, but as it was originally released, this thick slab of funk is pretty damn perfect.

Satisfaction

It's too obvious a choice and it wasn't going to be until I heard I guy singing it while I was walking to work this morning, and then it hit me that there really couldn't be a better choice to begin The Rolling Stones song of the day.

This live performance was filmed in 1965 for the British television show "Ready Steady Go!"



"Satisfaction" was the last number of a three-song set, which can be seen in its entirety here.