Craner's Top 100

Corpsey said:

Based on his selections here, I would sum Craner up in three words as

idiosyncratic romantic orgasmic

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luka said:

It's quite class bound that isn't it. All middle class liberals eat spicy food. It's an ideological commitment to a fuzzy multiculturalism. Eat a curry.

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craner said:

50.

The Rolling Stones, 'Shine a Light'

Complicated topic.

It’s interesting that Keith Richards is venerated these days as the authentic heart of the Stones, the grizzled blues veteran in the mold of his Delta heros, while Mick Jagger is ridiculed and belittled as the pantomime dame, the poseur, the shagger, the glorified tour manager obsessed with milking profit from deadly mega tours (and shagging). Yeah, right! What, are we supposed to see this all through Keith’s eyes? Are we that weak-minded and craven? What are we, Johnny Depp?

Apart from also being interested in money, Keith is as much of a poseur as Mick, in fact more so because it takes way more work and attention to detail to maintain an image of authenticity in the way that he does. It is worth pointing out that most, if not all, of the bad bits in Stones songs are caused by Mick (although I wouldn’t absolve Ronnie Wood of all blame on that score); but then again, in a perverse way, some of their greatest strengths are also down to Jagger. Ridiculous and venal as he is, he is also a great energizer, a lodestar.

He’s also a fucking funny counterpoint to Keith’s worst Rock and Roll hard man affectations. When punk came along, Keith was temporarily affronted and scared shit-less by the challenge to his credibility, while Mick just sort of shrugged it off, all part of the exciting milieu that formed the backdrop to his international shagging quest: “New York and London, too. Paris—there was punk there. Lots of dance music. Paris and New York had all this Latin dance music, which was really quite wonderful. Much more interesting than the stuff that came afterward.” It was kind of hilarious, too, when Mick tried to make the Stones go disco, to Keith's slow-burning fury (he still talks about it!). Then again, have you tried listening to Some Girls lately? It’s shit.

Anyway, this doesn’t matter to most sensible people who couldn’t give a fuck about Mick or Keith. That would include me, except for Exile on Main Street. I love this album. I am a bit obsessed with this album, actually. It helps that Mick was semi-detached from it, as he was too busy chasing Blanca Pérez-Mora Macías all around St Tropez and Cannes, leaving Keith alone to create his magnum opus. It also helps that Mick’s vocals are mixed down, finding a natural center within this awesome extended band of gospel singers, Bobby Keys, Jimmy Miller etc. Mick Taylor is at the peak of his powers. It sounds like a different band to the pantomime horse of later years, the Stones where Mick seems to loom out like a gargoyle or smear himself across the songs like glue.

This thing that Keith made is like the thing that Lindsey Buckingham made when left to his own devices: like Tusk, Exile is greater than the sum of its parts, a weird rattle bag of odd bits among pieces of great beauty. Luke thinks this is all stale beer and fags, but it’s actually fine wines, expensive drugs, free hookers, and antique art in French villas. It’s big, thrilling, murky, elegant and decadent. What an album!

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Corpsey said:

I'm not plugged into any social networks here or anywhere really. I don't mind recreational drug use and foreign holidays, but I draw the line at Soul Jazz compilations and reggae.

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craner said:

I never stated that!

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craner said:

"I will cede to corpseys request if only to utterly obliterate the memory of Matthews top 100."

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