Shine a (Dim) Light

What kind of reviewer, blogger, or writer of any kind would presume to comment on a film or its soundtrack without having seen or heard it?

Hi, everybody!

The idea of Scorsese's Shine A Light appealed to me: a concert film, at IMAX size and volume, by the director of The Last Waltz, contender for best rock concert film to date. No, I haven't yet seen the film or heard the soundtrack, and yes, I am prejudiced against it already, despite my initial enthusiasm.

Initial, brief enthusiasm. And then, I reflected on how many live albums the Rolling Stones have released, and how frequently, and how most of them performed like Brian Jones in a swimming pool. Floating face-down on the surface or listlessly skimming the bottom.

Only their first live album (not counting the questionable Got Live If You Want It!, which is pretty clearly a studio recording with dubbed-in audience sound effects), Get Your Ya-Ya's Out!, conveys the unpredictable, swaggering, messy Stones at their peak. Ya-Ya's was the sound of the still-dangerous band that made a string of albums as good as any in rock and roll, from Beggar's Banquet through Exile on Main St.

Since then, the six live sets they've released have mostly (with the exception of the refreshingly different Stripped) suffered from listlessness (Still Life, an ironically appropriate title), anemic set lists (No Security), or both (Flashpoint). And still, those qualities are preferable to the main deficiency of the last two, their slickness.

I'm no "back to mono" Luddite, contrary to my glowing review of the crudely recorded Battle of the Bands CD a while back. I wouldn't expect a 21st century Stones live album to sound as crude as one released in 1970. But the Stones I grew up rocking out to didn't fix their mistakes in post-production, or at least, didn't sound like they did.

And they sure didn't have a pop diva-du-jour onstage with them. It may be that, as I've read, Christina Aguilara acquits herself admirably on Shine A Light. It's possible that 1977's Love You Live would have been enhanced with a guest vocal from Olivia Newton-John, too. That would just make it a different kind of inferior Stones album.

Nothing would please me more than to walk out of the film amazed by the power and vitality of the Stones and their songs. I would just like to hear them play without a net, again. And give "Satisfaction" a well-earned rest.

Misty Vodka-Flavored Memories . . .

To my reader out there, I apologize if this wallow in the shallow, muddy puddle of my nostalgia is too personal, too generic, too stultifyingly dull even for the standards of this blog. I'll get this out of my system, soon. Until then, just enjoy the pictures and be assured we will return to our irregular, unscheduled program . . . sometime.

If you ever happen across an imaginatively-titled book called, Let the Good Times Roll by Larry Goshen, flip to page 114. (Be careful when ordering to specify the one subtitled "An Anthology of Indiana Music" or you may wind up with the one about "Prostitution and the U.S. Military in Asia.") There you'll see a photo that captures all the reasons we never made it, in a single image.
Three guys who look like they could be in CREEM or Trouser Press, one who looks like he's ready to audition for a Styx cover band, and a rock n' roll J.R. Ewing.
True to the image, three of us were essentially on the same page of sheet music, and the other two just went along. Until they didn't.

It still amuses me that we get a full half-page while David Lee Roth is relegated to one-third of page 115. In your face, DLR!

Our business card . . .
. . . is shockingly tasteful and direct for something I had a hand in.