E' il 1968. L'appena terminata estate dell'amore appassisce sotto le torride ondate di manifestazioni studentesche di tutta Europa; la lotta contro l'autorità di istituzioni come la famiglia, la religione e lo stato era attuata "con il sangue e con il ferro" (per dirla alla Bismarck).
I nuovi ribelli del 68, i giovani che per la prima volta nella storia del genere umano avevano i soldi in tasca, i miscredenti atei e idolatri di Che Guevara, quelli che imbrattavano i muri dell'università di Parigi, coloro i quali rifiutavano contemporaneamente i valori borghesi e la nuova industria nata apposta per loro, possono contare su di un'arma mai come allora più efficace: il rock. Anche per il figlio del blues é un periodo di turbolenti mutamenti: i futuri Genesis, ancora adolescenti, elaborano fra i banchi del liceo il progressive; il robusto power blues dei New Yardbirds, i futuri Led Zeppelin, di Jimmy Page emette i suoi primi vagiti, con le ormai prossime esibizioni in Scandinavia; la psichedelia, nelle menti di personaggi come il buon folle Syd 'Madcap' Barrett dei Pink Floyd, assurge finalmente al rango di vera, grande opera d'arte, in lavori come A Saurceful Of Secrets.
E ai Rolling Stones cosa stava succedendo? Dopo il pop del primo 67 di "Between The Buttons" e la sbandata psichedelica, tutta fiori e ghirlande, del balordo "Their Satanic Majesties Request" alle calcagna dei Beatles, gli Stones vivono una presa di coscienza: fare gli hippie non é nelle loro corde. E come avrebbero potuto, poi: proprio loro erano stati i responsabili dell'immagine più trasgressiva e avversa del rock. Complice la sempre più precaria influenza di Brian Jones (anche se in questo microsolco il suo apporto è ben lungi dall'essere assente), morto un anno dopo, la premiata coppia Jagger/Richard (prima che si chiamasse Richards) segna un deciso, ostinato e categorico ritorno alle radici rhythm and blues della band. Preceduto a maggio dall'ottimo singolo Jumpin' Jack Flash, nel novembre del 68 esce nei negozi "Beggars Banquet" (Il Banchetto Del Mendicante). Capostipite di una tetralogia di capolovori e pietre miliari della storia della musica, che enuclea "Let It Bleed", "Sticky Fingers" e "Exile On A Main Street", il disco era un'autentica bomba già alla data di pubblicazione.
La volgare e decadente copertina, raffigurante un'insozzata e diroccata latrina, rifiutata negli USA e sostituita da un'innocua e ruffiana imitazione di un verginale biglietto da visita, segna il ritorno al lato oscuro della Rock e alla loro immagine di "brutti sporchi e cattivi". Ispirata dalle allora contemporanee vicende politico-sociali, la superba "Street Fighting Man", anche singolo conduttore del disco, diventa una profonda riflessione sui temi cruciali della vita da ribelle. Ma il vero capolovoro della raccolta é la sinistra "Sympathy For The Devil", dove le esplicite liriche sataniche, influenzate dalla lettura di "Il Maestro E Margherita" di Bulgakov, gli infuocati fraseggi di Keith Richard, le eleganti partiture per piano di Nicky Hopkins e la perfetta interpretazione vocale di un dotto e acuto Lucifero da parte di Mick Jagger, fanno di questo brano un contributo tanto epico quanto terrificante alle pagine della Storia del Rock. In "Stray Cat Blues", Jagger e compagni analizzano le tematiche sessuali già portate alla ribalta nei precedenti lavori. Brain Jones riemerge temporaneamente dall'abisso oscuro delle droghe e della depressione, prima di precipitarvi definitivamente, e regala all'ascoltatore delle vere perle: "No Expectations" (grande pezzo di Sitar) e "Dear Doctor". Con una cornice intarsiata sui cupi bassifondi di New Orleans o Chicago, questo album é stato ed é uno dei pilastri del R&B.
Elenco tracce testi e video
01 Sympathy for the Devil (06:25)
Please allow me to introduce myself
I'm a man of wealth and taste
I've been around for long, long years
Stole many man's soul and faith
I was 'round when Jesus Christ
Had his moment of doubt and pain
Made damn sure that Pilate
Washed his hands and sealed his fate
Pleased to meet you
Hope you guess my name
But what's puzzling you
Is the nature of my game
Stuck around St. Petersburg
When I saw it was a time for a change
Killed the czar and his ministers
Anastasia screamed in vain
I rode a tank
Held a general's rank
When the blitzkrieg raged
And the bodies stank
Pleased to meet you
Hope you guess my name, oh yeah
Ah, what's puzzling you
Is the nature of my game, oh yeah
I watched with glee
While your kings and queens
Fought for ten decades
For the gods they made
I shouted out
"Who killed the Kennedys?"
When after all
It was you and me
Let me please introduce myself
I'm a man of wealth and taste
And I laid traps for troubadours
Who get killed before they reach Bombay
Pleased to meet you
Hope you guessed my name, oh yeah
But what's puzzling you
Is the nature of my game, oh yeah, get down, baby
Pleased to meet you
Hope you guessed my name, oh yeah
But what's confusing you
Is just the nature of my game
Just as every cop is a criminal
And all the sinners saints
As heads is tails, just call me Lucifer
'Cause I'm in need of some restraint
So if you meet me, have some courtesy
Have some sympathy, and some taste
Use all your well-learned politesse
Or I'll lay your soul to waste, mmm yeah
Pleased to meet you
Hope you guessed my name, mmm yeah
But what's puzzling you
Is the nature of my game, mmm mean it, get down
Tell me baby, what's my name?
Tell me honey, can ya guess my name?
Tell me baby, what's my name?
I tell you one time, you're to blame
What's my name?
Tell me baby, what's my name?
Tell me sweetie, what's my name?
02 No Expectations (04:00)
M. Jagger/K. Richards)
Take me to the station
And put me on a train
I've got no expectations
To pass through here again
Once I was a rich man and
Now I am so poor
But never in my sweet short life
Have I felt like this before
You heart is like a diamond
You throw your pearls at swine
And as I watch you leaving me
You pack my peace of mind
Our love was like the water
That splashes on a stone
Our love is like our music
Its here, and then its gone
So take me to the airport
And put me on a plane
I got no expectations
To pass through here again
06 Street Fighting Man (03:16)
Ev'rywhere I hear the sound of marching, charging feet, boy
'Cause summer's here and the time is right for fighting in the street, boy
But a-what can a poor boy do
'Cept to sing for a rock 'n' roll band
'Cause in sleepy London town
There's just no place for a street fighting man, no
Hey, think the time is right for a palace revolution
'Cause where I live the game to play is compromise solution
Well then what can a poor boy do
'Cept to sing for a rock 'n' roll band
'Cause in sleepy London town
There's no place for a street fighting man, no
Get down!
Hey, said my name is called disturbance
I'll shout and scream, I'll kill the king, I'll rail at all his servants
And then what can a poor boy do
'Cept to sing for a rock 'n' roll band
'Cause in sleepy London town
There's no place for a street fighting man, no
Get down!
07 Prodigal Son (02:53)
(Rev. Wilkins)
Well a poor boy took his father's bread and started down the road
Started down the road
Took all he had and started down the road
Going out in this world, where God only knows
And that'll be the way to get along
Well poor boy spent all he had, famine come in the land
Famine come in the land
Spent all he had and famine come in the land
Said, "I believe I'll go and hire me to some man"
And that'll be the way I'll get along
Well, man said, "I'll give you a job for to feed my swine
For to feed my swine
I'll give you a job for to feed my swine"
Boy stood there and hung his head and cried
`Cause that is no way to get along
Said, "I believe I'll ride, believe I'll go back home
Believe I'll go back home
Believe I'll ride, believe I'll go back home
Or down the road as far as I can go"
And that'll be the way to get along
Well, father said, "See my son coming home to me
Coming home to me"
Father ran and fell down on his knees
Said, "Sing and praise, Lord have mercy on me"
Mercy
Oh poor boy stood there, hung his head and cried
Hung his head and cried
Poor boy stood and hung his head and cried
Said, "Father will you look on me as a child?"
Yeah
Well father said, "Eldest son, kill the fatted calf,
Call the family round
Kill that calf and call the family round
My son was lost but now he is found
'Cause that's the way for us to get along"
Hey
08 Stray Cat Blues (04:38)
(M. Jagger/K. Richards)
I hear the click-clack of your feet on the stairs
I know you're no scare-eyed honey.
There'll be a feast if you just come upstairs
But it's no hanging matter
It's no capital crime
I can see that you're fifteen years old
No I don't want your I.D.
You look so rest-less and you're so far from home
But it's no hanging matter
It's no capital crime
Oh yeah, you're a strange stray cat
Oh yeah, don'tcha scratch like that
Oh yeah, you're a strange stray cat
Bet your mama don't know you scream like that
I bet your mother don't know you can spit like that.
You look so weird and you're so far from home
But you don't really miss your mother
Don't look so scared I'm no mad-brained bear
But it's no hanging matter
It's no capital crime
Oh, yeah
Woo!
I bet your mama don't know that you scatch like that
I bet she don't know you can bite like that.
You say you got a friend, that she's wilder than you
Why don't you bring her upstairs
If she's so wild then she can join in too
It's no hanging matter
It's no capital crime
Oh yeah, you're a strange stray cat
Oh yeah, don'tcha scratch like that
Oh yeah, you're a strange stray cat
I bet you mama don't know you can bite like that
I'll bet she never saw you scratch my back
10 Salt of the Earth (04:51)
M. Jagger/K. Richards)
Let's drink to the hard working people
Let's drink to the lowly of birth
Raise your glass to the good and the evil
Let's drink to the salt of the earth
Say a prayer for the common foot soldier
Spare a thought for his back breaking work
Say a prayer for his wife and his children
Who burn the fires and who still till the earth
And when I search a faceless crowd
A swirling mass of gray and
Black and white
They don't look real to me
In fact, they look so strange
Raise your glass to the hard working people
Let's drink to the uncounted heads
Let's think of the wavering millions
Who need leaders but get gamblers instead
Spare a thought for the stay-at-home voter
His empty eyes gaze at strange beauty shows
And a parade of the gray suited grafters
A choice of cancer or polio
And when I look in the faceless crowd
A swirling mass of grays and
Black and white
They don't look real to me
Or don't they look so strange
Let's drink to the hard working people
Let's think of the lowly of birth
Spare a thought for the rag taggy people
Let's drink to the salt of the earth
Let's drink to the hard working people
Let's drink to the salt of the earth
Let's drink to the two thousand million
Let's think of the humble of birth
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Altre recensioni
Di the clash
I Rolling Stones sono l’emblema della strafottenza e della ribellione.
Sympathy For The Devil è roba alternativa, roba che fece rizzare il mondo.
Di Lorenzo_1987
"Il Diavolo, impersonato da un Jagger quanto mai luciferino e sarcastico, si presenta al mondo con cortesia e presunzione."
"La copertina è un elogio del brutto, un'opera degna di figurare accanto ai grandi capolavori della pop-art."
