Untiring as ever, the Stones unveil their 25th album, “Foreign Tongues”. Old recipes for loaded tongues.
The fourteenth and final track of this 25th Rolling Stones album is also the best. One of the few worth hearing. It is a Chuck Berry cover whose very first merit is to offer the listener a respite. And a moment when one is surprised to hope, perhaps wrongly, that the train will finally pull into the station. Because it’s high time to let the overheated bogies cool down (and the boogie as well). Terminus. Everyone off. End of the story.
Indeed, what better way to close the long and “rock-rambling” journey of this extraordinary group than to hang this Beautiful Delilah as the ultimate trophy on their hunt list? In June 1963, the Stones launched their recording career with another jewel snatched from the pocket of master Chuck: Come On. So that this almost mimetic return to the starting point, and to the source of their inspiration, could not be a more fitting end to the loop. Especially since after thirteen tracks loaded with voltage, often flirting with boredom and saturation, its decidedly acoustic approach has the merit of linking the present to history. In the roughness of the sound, that abrasive roughness that made, among others, Ventilator Blues from Exile On Main Street (1972) so exhilarating, lies an ultimate proof of this passion for the most authentic American Black music that has held them in their guts since their beginnings.
Old Folks Acting Old
Yet to get there, one had to wade through the rest. A mass of tracks so performative and muscular that you end up wondering whether they were recorded in a studio or in a gym with an Andrew Watt more of a fitness coach than a producer. Given the captain Jagger’s age, 82, the same as his long-time partner in crime Keith Richards, it’s true that one would secretly have preferred something more relaxed, a bit more Rolling Buena Vista and less Rolling Steroids.
But after all, who are we to dare fault them for this relentless drive to stay themselves? To cling to the railing of rock’n’roll as others of the same age cling to a walker. Even if they record albums that bring absolutely nothing to their oeuvre, they do their job as musicians with the enthusiasm of old kids which serves as their get-out-of-jail-free card. We’re even ready to forgive them this hideous cover, this nightmare portrait by a certain Nathaniel Mary Quinn made from fragments of the faces of the living members of the group, which makes us think of Spitting Image trying to render Mick Jagger as Frankenstein while imitating Francis Bacon. Visual shock aside, one must admit that something almost subliminal hides within this horror, like a maker’s secret. Building songs out of reminiscences is indeed what this record could be summarized as, which from end to end exudes, at best, tedious banality, at worst overacted redundancy.
Mick Jagger, Between Two Worlds
Beyond the boogie of the ardently heavy Rough & Twisted, where the words “muddy waters” slyly open the ceremony like an invocation (Muddy Waters is the bluesman the Stones borrowed from most, starting with the title of a song: Rollin’ Stone), we now have In The Stars in the carp-and-rabbit register. A graft not necessarily ugly between Start Me Up and something resembling Coldplay. Then comes Jealous Lover, a soulful romance where Jagger finds the high-pitched voice of Miss You again while regurgitating inflections in the vein of Let It Loose from Exile. Mr Charm is probably the new Sympathy for the Devil, but it has little charm and invites little sympathy. As for Divine Intervention, it is no more than a copy-and-paste of Star Star with a mushy middle and a Robert Smith guest appearance as unexpected as it is incongruous.
Then comes the inevitable country ballad, this Ringing Hollow telegraphed whose lyrics play the ambiguity card. Is Jagger addressing a woman or a country, in this case today’s America (“Lady Liberty don’t look so good”) ? Elsewhere he directs a jab at Elon Musk and those “dirty rats” of autocrats—words probably whispered by his table neighbor Gérard Larcher, former president of the Senate, at the Macron dinner in Versailles in honor of King Charles III of England! This is one of the few moments where he seems to emerge from a self-referential bubble, retreading his perennial heartbreaks using the same sonic ingredients. There is the slightly disco Never Wanna Lose You which pounds aimlessly, the Covered by You with a faint rap vibe where McCartney plays bass and old resentments about yet another woman simmer (apparently she struck a dagger in his heart, and he’s having trouble getting over it). Let’s skip the gratuitous brutality of Hit Me in The Head and the cover of Amy Winehouse’s You Know I’m No Good, a good idea spoiled by poor handling, though there is Back in Your Life, rather nicely shot but, at six minutes, it wears thin (a recurring problem since none of the fourteen tracks dip below four minutes).
The Rolling Stones, a Brand More Than a Band?
Clearly, Mick Jagger isn’t tired of playing the pretty face. “Mick refuses to grow old” jokes Keith Richards (in Mojo), who, by contrast, seems to be aging with more ease. Does he have a choice with arthritic hands that keep diminishing his guitar work and a body tired to the point of balking at touring? In Side Effect, Jagger drops, perhaps addressing him: “There is a price to pay for everything you inject into your veins.” Still, Some of Us, where Keith sings in a voice that sounds its age, unlike Jagger’s which begins to sound suspect (software?), is the other moment of pleasure on Foreign Tongues. It reveals a Rolling Stone more in line with today’s truth and how we’d like to hear him more often: vulnerable, moving, sarcastic. This plaintive ballad, though it does not equal You Got The Silver from Let it Bleed in 1969, reconciles us a little with an album crushed by the exhibitionist production of Andrew Watt.
Yes, we would have liked this to end with the delightful cover of Beautiful Delilah, the most elegant and timely way to hang up for good. But let’s not dream. This rather uninteresting record brings us back to an inevitable truth that the previous Hackney Diamonds had already suggested. The Rolling Stones today are less a band than a registered trademark, like Louis Vuitton or Gucci. To see it for yourself, just visit their site to find Sticky Fingers, Wild Horses or, the musk of the moment, You smell good enough to lick. There’s also Crossfire Hurricane rum and a wide selection of t‑shirts, beanies and board shorts stamped with the famous tongue. There’s even, in keeping with the World Cup, a Panini sticker game featuring their likeness. Foreign Tongues is simply the latest product on sale from this legendary group, now more of a midnight gambler than a rambler. Until the next…
Foreign Tongues (Universal). Release July 10.
