Boxing the Stones in Mono

It’s a time machine you won’t want to climb out of. ABKCO records has gathered all the mono studio recordings the Rolling Stones put out in the ’60s into one collection. For those of us who grew up with it, this music was not only the soundtrack of our lives, it was a musical education, a history of a part of our own culture many of us knew little about. The Rolling Stones tarted it up a bit, but left the basics intact. They weren’t shy about sharing their influences, and more importantly, discovering and sharing the artists who influenced those who influenced them.

The recorded musical journey starts out in 1964, with The Rolling Stones. No title on the cover, just the faces of a quintet of English lads who might have been posing for their class picture at some posh private school. Hair a little longish, but the young chaps had suits on, looking a bit startled at the camera’s intrusion, but otherwise a fairly innocuous looking group. But the trouble started on the inside. Jimmy Reed, Muddy Waters and Willie Dixon weren’t household names for most American teens in ’64, but the Stones sure knew who they were, harnessing their energy and power with impressive covers of Dixon’s “I Just Wanna Make Love To You”(first recorded by Waters) and Reed’s “Honest I Do.” They also introduced national treasure Bo Diddley to a young white audience with their throbbing cover of “Mona.”

These weren’t just limp do-overs of black material by a bunch of young white kids. You could hear the passion and the commitment to the music captured in the grooves. Brian Jones and Jagger’s harp work  sounds like a couple of juke-joint vets, Jones blowing the reeds outta the harp on a frenetic little Walter inspired take on “I Just Wanna Make Love To You,” and Jagger demonstrating his reed skills with some lonesome wailing harp on “Honest I Do,” validating Richard’s claim that Jagger was one of the best blues harpists he ever heard.

There’s so much good stuff on here, you could get lost for days in it. Side two serves up Slim Harpo’s “I’m A King Bee,” Jones’ slide zooming around Jagger’s exaggerated Southern-ese vocals. Marvin Gaye’s “Can I Get A Witness” gets a go-go treatment galloping along propelled by handclaps and Ian Stewart’s rattly piano. The band’s initial take on Chuck Berry’s “Carol” has Keef ripping out Berry licks at the speed of light while Jagger tries not to trip over his own tonsils, a far cry from the slinky, funky take from 1970’s Get Yer Ya Ya’s Out, recorded live in ’69. Another rendering of the song would lead to a tense moment between Berry and Richards during the filming of the ’87 musical documentary Hail, Hail Rock And Roll when Richards as bandleader, attempts to start the song and Berry keeps stopping him, telling him he’s not doing it right.

But he’s probably the only musician to tell Richards he ain’t playing right. As this fifteen-album set demonstrates, he, as well as the rest of the group are making history here with some of the most interesting rock ever laid down.

It’s hard to believe the Stones amassed this much quality material in such a short time. From ’64- ’69, the band put out 12 albums starting out with energetic covers of their favorite blues and r&b and soul artists. From Dee-troit to Philly, Memphis to Muscle Shoals, the Stones sampled a smorgasbord of American music before inserting their own ingredients to make a hybrid that shaped the future of rock and roll.

The original sound on all these sixties Stones records is incredible. For those of us who came by our copies through the London records imprints, there’s no comparison. These remastered mono recordings capture every nuance of the music. London muddied the sound with fake stereo and reverb. Left alone, the mono recordings here capture the true sound of the Stones recording together in one room.

You can try and flip through this stuff, but the waves of nostalgia will knock you down, and you’ll be dragged under and lost in the undertow.

’64’s 12×5 serves up a mixed bag, from a tribute to Chess records (“2120 South Michigan Avenue,” the label’s address) to Beach Music, covering the Drifter’s “Under the Boardwalk,” to edging Irma Thomas out of a soul hit with their version of “Time Is On My Side.” The Rolling Stones No. 2, Americianzed as The Rolling Stones Now, unleashed Leiber and Stoller’s “Down Home Girl,” initially recorded by New Orleans’ Alvin “Shine” Robinson,” to a wider, whiter, younger audience. The cornpone lyrics, “I swear your perfume, babe, is made out of turnip greens/Every time I kiss you, girl, it tastes like pork and beans” obviously inspired Jagger’s forays into southern satire with songs like “Dear Doctor” and “Girl with the Faraway Eyes.”

You can go right to “Dear Doctor” here from Beggars Banquet, with the initial banned bathroom cover intact. Its one of the quirkiest Stones cuts, Jagger moaning about the bow-legged sow he’s to marry til he finds a note wrapped round the ring in his pocket (that he reads in a hilarious falsetto) telling him she’s run off with his cousin Lou and there’ll be no wedding today: “You can put back my heart in its hole,” he tells the doctor. “Oh mama, I’m cryin’/Tears of relief/And my pulse is now under control.”

The album reveals the churlish, darker side of the band, Jagger whipping up the masses with “Street Fighting Man,” summoning the dark forces on “Sympathy for the Devil,” displaying his misogynistic streak on “Stray Cat Blues” and “Parachute Woman,” dropping back into some straight-up acoustic blues for a cover of country blues singer/guitarist Robert Wilkins’ “Prodigal Son.”

Then there’s the psychedelic shimmer of Their Satanic Majesties Request, their only self-produced album which Richards dismissed as “a load of crap.”

But 69’s Let It Bleed took the devilishness of Beggar’s Banquet to new depths, Merry Clayton hollering “rape, murder” on “Gimme Shelter,”Jagger threatening to tippy-toe down your hallway and “stick my knife right down your throat, baby” on “Midnight Rambler,” then having Robert Johnson’s “Love In Vain” rubbing elbows with a laid-back, country-style version of “Honky-Tonk Women.”

Also included in the collection are three sets of double releases: two versions of ’66’s Aftermath, two versions of ’65’s Out Of Our Heads, and The Rolling Stones Now, released in the UK as The Rolling Stones #2. ’65’s December’s Children (And Everybody’s) and ’67’s Between the Buttons and Flowers round out the studio releases, and there’s one bonus CD, Stray Cats, an eclectic collection that includes “Bye Bye Johnny,” the Coaster’s “Poison Ivy” and Berry Gordy’s original composition and first Motown hit “Money,” recorded in ’59 by Barrett Strong and in ’63 by the Beatles.

It comes in a neat little jewel box with a flip top lid and a 48 page booklet by Rolling Stone’s David Fricke with some great vintage photos.

You’ll need to set aside some time to peruse it properly, but it’s a time trip worth taking, a backflip that sounds as fresh today as it did when minted. Strap your self in, hang on, and open ‘er up- you’re in for one helluva ride.