THE ROLLING STONES - LET IT BLEED

People who have seen me under the influence of Let It Bleed – listening to it on my headphones as I walk to work – have said that I look like a man possessed, remote from reality and the presence of others. What they have seen is how I feel when I hear this album. To borrow a phrase, it ‘sends me’.

Let It Bleed is the second of four extraordinary studio albums released by the Rolling Stones between 1968 and 1972. It marks the end of Brian Jones’ involvement with the band and the beginning of Mick Taylor’s. With the exception of Live With Me and, Country Honk, Keith Richards plays all the guitar parts on this 1969 masterpiece. And how.

Let It Bleed also represents a high-water mark in the song-writing partnership of Mick Jagger and Keith Richards: Gimme Shelter, Let It Bleed, Midnight Rambler, Monkey Man and You Can’t Always Get What You Want are all certifiable classics. Blistering, awesome, elemental, spine tingling: you can take your pick from the superlatives.

Aside from their originality and the musicianship with which they are performed, what makes these songs special for me is their ability to invoke the darker side of my soul. This is rock’s answer to voodoo. While Christianity conceives of God and the Devil as separate entities, of dark as a mere absence of light, the orgasmic energy of a song like Midnight Rambler suggests a more complex but less neurotic universe

At 6:52, Midnight Rambler is the second-longest track on Let It Bleed, behind You Can’t Always Get What You Want. It’s a great example of the band’s ability to build and sustain mood and atmosphere, to draw the listener into an experience beyond his understanding. The stars of the show in this instance are the slide guitar of Keith Richards and the harmonica of Mick Jagger: the two instruments duet with demonic grace throughout the changing pace of the song, against a solid backdrop of bass, drums and rhythm guitar.

Lyrically, Midnight Rambler is about the joys of breaking into people’s houses in the middle of the night and murdering them in their beds. It begins as jaunty, seductive rhythm and blues; Mick Jagger sounds like the most playful and teasing homicidal maniac in history. As the song progresses, the harmonica comes to the fore, becoming more frenzied and unpredictable; it whirls madly around the hypnotic throb of bass and drums. Then the song slows down, grinding to a halt. A wicked cackle sounds on the track before the most explosive build up of pace and energy in recording history. Words cannot do justice to this shuddering, coital climax; it must be experienced. 

Midnight Rambler ends with the line, I’ll stick my knife right down your throat baby, and it hurts! Whenever I hear this defiance, the idea of mass murder seems strangely appealing, and I wonder why the careers guidance teacher at school didn’t bring this to my attention all those years ago. It certainly would’ve been more fun than the soppy arts degree I ended up doing.

I am a quiet man with an uneventful life, but the spirit of this song connects with something primal in me. Whatever that something is, it has sweltered under a blanket of repression and guilt; given the opportunity by this music, it dances for joy in the light of day. I am left feeling whole and exhilarated.

Let It Bleed contains spiritually uplifting music, yet it is unlikely to be adopted by church choirs anywhere. It embraces violent, ‘fallen’ parts of us, at least those as defined by Christian theology. Yet, these are real, vital aspects of our personalities, not mere ‘absences’ of good. If man was created in God’s image, it follows that there must be some darkness in the divine also. Attributing all our savagery to original sin (or worse, some cloven-hoofed rascal with a tail and horns) doesn’t really wash with me.

Fans of this album all have their particular favorites. A couple of years ago, Gimme Shelter was voted the Stones’ best ever song by readers of the British music magazine, Q. It’s certainly a plausible contender. An apocalyptic vision of war, Richards’ guitars and (best of all) Mary Clayton’s backing vocals conjure up doom and menace by the bucket load. Then there is the title-track, Let It Bleed, a celebration of earthly pleasures and the company of fallen angels. Ian Stewart’s honky-tonk piano and again, Richards’ slide guitar, give it the most delicious reek of sin and abandon.

For me, however, the most obvious rival to Midnight Rambler as the album’s finest track is You Can’t Always Get What You Want. This song’s potential is transformed by the presence of the London Bach Choir, turning an otherwise mournful country lament into something approaching a religious vision. It’s as inspired collaboration between the worlds of rock and classical as on the Beatles’ A Day In The Life two years previously.

You can’t always get what you want, sings Jagger of his relationship disappointment, but if you try some time you might just get what you need. This is a world of bruised, angry souls, damaged characters like Mr Jimmy (Man, did he look pretty ill), who persist and survive in spite of their hardships. It seems the best we can do is accept ourselves as we are, with all our weaknesses, and be ready to catch life’s gifts where they fall. You might just get what you need is therefore a statement of faith amid adversity. As the choir spirals its way up through the scales near the end of the song, there is the impression of a higher meaning shining through our struggles in this world. There’s something divine in the darkness.