As you may know, there’s no period of The Rolling Stones that I like better than what I call the “Brian Jones era.” I refer to it as such with full knowledge that Jones may not have contributed much, after helping Mick Jagger and Keith Richards to come together and study Da Blooz, beyond his ability to drive the band with his awesome Rhythm Look and an aptitude for coloring songs with his vast collection of “exotic” instruments. What’s never been clear to me, though, is whether Jones actually contributed anything special on the guitar. I, as much as Richard Lloyd, Martin Belmont, and anyone else who’s passed through these hallowed halls, frequently refer to the band’s legendary twin-guitar attack, but can we actually pinpoint what Jones did other than stay out of the way of Richards’ riffs?
A couple of weeks ago E. Pluribus Gergely called me with the following discovery, which he said was the first example he’s seen of Jones playing an audible, prominent rhythm guitar part. It’s the band playing “Oh Carol” on the Mike Douglas Show in 1964. I’ve watched this clip a few times and, although Jones’ part is easily discernable, I think my friend gave Jones a little too much credit. The execution is nothing special, is it?
I’d love to hold onto the belief that Richards-Jones set the template for all that I love about twin-guitar attacks in rock ‘n roll, but please help me find live video evidence of Jones doing anything worthwhile on guitar. Thanks.
By the way, Douglas and his old fart guests’ dismissive intro of the band and the segment at the end of the lip-synched performance of “Tell Me,” when a couple of giddy teenagers come up to meet the band, are priceless.
Finally, it goes without saying that I’m not allowing the following lip-synched performance as evidence, as much as I’d love to:


Do the Kokomotion!
This RTH Glossary entry was developed by Townsman alexmagic, who did the heavy lifting, as he often does, in a comment on an earlier thread. As a side benefit of this entry, the term may satisfy the rock world’s need to claim its own version “jump the shark.”
Kokomotion: The inevitable late phase of an artist’s career trajectory, in which they nakedly attempt to recapture the sound that made them initially famous.
The “Magic Man” illustrated this phase by comparing Paul McCartney’s “Silly Love Songs” with The Beach Boys’ “Kokomo”:
Taste and quality issues aside, I think there is a key difference between “Silly Love Songs” and “Kokomo.”
“Silly Love Songs” was written by a guy who was still in the middle of being an active, successful artist. It’s positioned as a statement of “you can bag on my songs all you want, but look at how rich they keep making me!” Some hubris, there.
“Kokomo” was written by a band long past its prime making a last-ditch effort to get any kind of traction. That it somehow worked is a testament to the commanding presence imparted by the authority of a captain’s hat.
McCartney’s Kokomotive moment, then probably would have been the Give My Regards to Broad Street album, where he was redoing actual Beatles songs. I guess a case could be made for the “Tripping The Live Fantastic” tour, where he started to re-embrace his arena rock status, only with his Beatles’ numbers more heavily in play.
I prefer to think of Broad Street being his “Kokomo,” though, because that would mean that Bryan “FX” Brown would have the distinction of being in both Broad Street and Cocktail, where “Kokomo” itself found its place.
Bryan Brown: Rock’s True Zelig?
For the record, can you identify the Kokomotive moments in other artists’ careers?


Not today.
In the comments on a recent thread on Duran Duran‘s As-It-Was-Meant-to-Sound cover of Lou Reed‘s “Perfect Day,” Townsman BigSteve suggested the following bold motion:
There really needs to be a worldwide moratorium on Perfect Day for a while. Good song, but enough, people.
We the Townspeople of Rock Town Hall—or at least yours truly—wholeheartedly support this motion. Musicians from around the world, please do your part today by not covering that song until further notice. Thank you.


Mom!
You know the drill, you’re either actively or passively listening to music and a song comes on that catches your ear. It sounds like some other song you love. You’re mind starts to wander to other songs that are obviously indebted to earlier songs. Then you take note of a guest musician on a particular track, tracing that musician back to the record’s producer, engineer, and maybe even the teenage future producer who fetched them tea. Hopefullly you you run into one of your rock friends before wasting these insights on/tormenting/boring a “normal” person. Hopefully you get the chance to excitedly tell your fellow rock nerd about these unexpected connections. Tonight we make connections.
[audio:https://www.rocktownhall.com/blogs/wp-content/uploads/2010/12/RTH-Saturday-Night-Shut-In-5.mp3|titles=RTH Saturday Night Shut-In, episode 5]

Will Your Mystery Date Be a Dream or a Dud?
Who was that anonymous, mid-1970s band featured in our most recent Mystery Date that sounded a lot like a Jefferson Airplane that had been hijacked by The Byrds with Lindsey Buckingham calling the shots from an undisclosed location? As BigSteve and misterioso knew—and as mockcarr actually mentioned in his initial comment—it was…