The other day, an eagerly anticipated vuh-deo showed up in the mail from my good buddies at Netflix: a Blu-Ray DVD of the Stones’ legendary Ladies and Gentlemen, the Rolling Stones concert documentary.
In general, it didn’t disappoint: the band was hot (gotta give out mad props to Bill Wyman and a surprisingly eager Charlie Watts), the song selection was choice (how could it not be in 1972?), and — well, it was just pretty dang great from one end to the other.
Except for one little problem: Mick Taylor.
Seriously, I’m a huge Mick Taylor fan. I even love his 1979 solo album! But, for crying out loud, every time the camera was turned on the dude, he brought the party down. Don’t believe me? Check out this clip, of Keef, Mick, and the boys blasting their way through “Happy.”
I swear, this bit of film gives me goosebumps — until MT takes his solo. Instant softie! Come ON, Mick Taylor! Aren’t you feeling the drive, the desperation, the swagger, the booze-n-heroin infused, grab-you-by-the-nutsatchel urgency of this song? Why you gotta go all Steve Howe on us now?! Save that standing in place, showing no emotion shit for some other tune, like “Midnight Mile” or something. No fooling, you don’t have to let the groove take over your body all the time — but, shit, man, would it hurt to give in to the music and at least tap your feet once in a while?
Sheesh. Who knew?
HVB