• Voto:
Questa non è una recensione, ma un atto d'amore.
Perché i Rolling già li conoscevo, ma un disco come questo non lo avevo mai sentito. E mai lo sentirò, credo.
Perché il riff iniziale di Rip this Joint mi apre ogni volta.
Perché qui dentro c'è il rock, ma proprio tutto, e non me ne frega niente se qualcuno dice il contrario.
Perché Casino Boogie e Torn and Frayed non sono dei riempitivi.
Mick suonava da Dio, e gli hanno anche rubato i crediti dei pezzi. Ma si sa, quei due erano dei gran stronzi.
"On stage the band has got problems
they're a bag of nerves at first nights..."
Keith era sempre strafatto, ma questo si sa. Nicky era indiavolato, pestava sul piano che ogni nota doveva essere l'ultima. Rip this Joint ti porta su che manco te ne accorgi, altroché. Poi giù all'inferno, un riff assassino e via di Ventilator Blues e poi Keith che vorrebbe solo vedere la sua faccia. Di chi, di Cristo o del Diavolo? E alla fine passa Let it Loose, e ti accorgi che un piano così semplicemente non può esistere. E che canzoni così i Rolling non ne scriveranno più.
"Joe's got a cough, sounds kinda rough
yeah, and the codeine to fix it
doctor prescribes, drug store supplies
who's gonna help him to kick it..."
Questi erano i Rolling, e per me saranno sempre così.
Perché nemmeno io pensavo di scrivere queste due righe stasera.
Perché, probabilmente, anche in momenti come questi un disco ti può salvare la vita.
Niente va sprecato qui, neanche una nota.
"I'm the man on the mountain, come on up
I'm the plowman in the valley, with a face full of mud..."
Grazie.
Elenco tracce testi e samples
02 Rip This Joint (02:23)
(M. Jagger/K. Richards)
Mama says yes, Papa says no,
Make up you mind 'cause I gotta go.
I'm gonna raise hell at the Union Hall,
Drive myself right over the wall.
Rip this joint, gonna save your soul,
Round and round and round we go.
Roll this joint, gonna get down low,
Start my starter, gonna stop the show.
Oh, yeah!
Mister President, Mister Immigration Man,
Let me in, sweetie, to your fair land.
I'm Tampa bound and Memphis too,
Short Fat Fanny is on the loose.
Dig that sound on the radio,
Then slip it right across into Buffalo.
Dick and Pat in ole D.C.,
Well they're gonna hold some shit for me.
Ying yang, you're my thing,
Oh, now, baby, won't you hear me sing.
Flip Flop, fit to drop,
Come on baby, won't you let it rock?
Oh, yeah! Oh, yeah!
From San Jose down to Santa Fe,
Kiss me quick, baby, won'tcha make my day.
Down to New Orleans with the Dixie Dean,
'Cross to Dallas, Texas with the Butter Queen.
Rip this joint, gonna rip yours too,
Some brand new steps and some weight to lose.
Gonna roll this joint, gonna get down low,
Round and round and round we'll go.
Wham, Bham, Birmingham, Alabam' don't give a damn.
Little Rock fit to drop.
Ah, let it rock.
03 Shake Your Hips (02:59)
(James Moore)
I wanna tell you 'bout a dance
that's goin' around
everybody's doin' it
from the grownups down
Don't move your head
don't move your hands
don't move your lips
just shake your hips
Do the hip shake, babe
do the hip shake, babe
shake your hip, babe
shake your hip, babe
What you don't know
don't be afraid
just listen to me
and do what I say
Don't move your head
don't move your hands
don't move your lips
just shake your hips
Do the hip shake, babe
do the hip shake, babe
shake your hip, babe
shake your hip, babe
well ain't that easy
Well, I met a little girl
in a country town
she said, "What do you know
there's Slim Harpo!"
Didn't move her head
didn't move her hands
didn't move her lips
just shook her hips
Do the hip shake, babe
do the hip shake, babe
shake your hip, babe
shake your hip, babe
well ain't that easy
04 Casino Boogie (03:33)
(M. Jagger/K. Richards)
No good, can't speak, wound up, no sleep.
Sky diver insider her, skip rope, stunt flyer.
Wounded lover, got no time on hand.
One last cycle, thrill freak Uncle Sam.
Pause for bus'ness, hope you'll understand.
Judge and jury walk out hand in hand.
Dietrich movies, close up boogies,
Kissing cunt in Cannes.
Grotesque music, million dollar sad.
Got no tactics, got no time on hand.
Left shoe shuffle, right shoe muffle,
Sinking in the sand.
Fade out freedom, steaming heat on,
Watch that hat in black.
Finger twitching, got no time on hand.
05 Tumbling Dice (03:45)
Women think I'm tasty, but they're always tryin' to waste me
And make me burn the candle right down
But baby, baby, don't need no jewels in my crown
'Cause all you women is low down gamblers
Cheatin' like I don't know how
But baby, I go crazy, there's fever in the funk house now
This low down bitchin' got my poor feet a-itchin'
You know you know the deuce is still wild
Baby, can't stay
You got to roll me and call me the tumblin' dice
Always in a hurry, I never stop to worry
Don't you see the time flashin' by
Honey, got no money, I'm all sixes and sevens and nines
Say now, baby, I'm the rank outsider
You can be my partner in crime
Baby, can't stay
You got to roll me and call me the tumblin'
Roll me and call me the tumblin' dice
Oh my my my, I'm the lone crap shooter
Playin' the field every night
Baby, can't stay
You got to roll me and call me the tumblin'
Roll me and call me the tumblin' dice
Got to roll me
Got to roll me
Got to roll me
Got to roll me
Got to roll me
Got to roll me
Got to roll me
Keep on rolling
Got to roll me
Keep on rolling
Got to roll me
Keep on rolling
Got to roll me
Got to roll me
Got to roll me
Got to roll me
Got to roll me
Got to roll me
Got to roll me
Got to roll me
Got to roll me
06 Sweet Virginia (04:25)
(M. Jagger/K. Richards)
Wadin' through the waste stormy winter,
And there's not a friend to help you through.
Tryin' to stop the waves behind your eyeballs,
Drop your reds, drop your greens and blues.
Thank you for your wine, California,
Thank you for your sweet and bitter fruits.
Yes I got the desert in my toenail
And I hid the speed inside my shoe.
But come on, come on down Sweet Virginia,
Come on, honey child, I beg of you.
Come on, come on down, you got it in ya.
Got to scrape the shit right off you shoes.
I want you to come on, come on down Sweet Virginia,
I want you come on, honey child, I beg of you. .
I want you come on, honey child you got it in you.
Got to scrape that shit right off you shoes.
But come on, come on down Sweet Virginia,
Come on, come on down, I beg of you.
Come on, come on down, you got it in you.
Got to scrape that shit right off you shoes.
Carico i commenti... con calma
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