ROCK: Fred de Vries
Men in their 50s cant play rocknroll! True. But the sad thing is The Rolling Stones still do it much better than the new crop of fellow British bands like Suede, Blur and The Charlatans. And in the light of the unstoppable renaissance of horrible old groups like Yes, Jethro Tull and Pink Floyd, the Stones stand out.
In a way Voodoo Lounge officially heralds the death of rocknroll. English rock in particular has come full circle. Youths are lost in post-modernism and cant compete. That leaves the dinosaurs to cash in on the hunger for retro rock. And in that post- punk, post-anything era, the Stones come out winning.
Voodoo Lounge is not a disappointment, but that doesnt mean its good. The Rolling Stones have one enormous monkey on their collective back: they will never make an album to eclipse Beggars Banquet, Sticky Fingers, Exile on Main Street or even Its Only RocknRoll.
The problem is these albums were children of their time. Then the Stones were an unmatched rock nroll circus of excess. Now they are just another rock band. Thats why theres no Sympathy for the Devil, Sister Morphine or Street Fighting Man on Voodoo Lounge.
Yet the album does sound surprisingly loose and spontaneous for a band that has been around for over 30 years. Most of it is staple Stones stuff: rock, funk and the odd ballad, with just too many rocking fillers to warrant the full length of 62 minutes.
Occasionally Voodoo Lounge even matches the early Seventies demonic musical spark. Love is Strong is a tense and brooding rocker, and Keith Richards gnarls his way through a couple of songs with great integrity. And the ballad New Faces, with its harpsichord, even takes us back to Sixties songs like Lady Jane.
So far so good. What makes having Voodoo Lounge in your CD collection an embarrassment is the lyrics. Jagger may be as fit as a horse thanks to his daily three-hour workout, but that doesnt make him 18 again. To hear this middle-aged millionaire grandfather who dyes his hair singing about having oral sex with bitches and femmes fatales is just pathetic. And the use of a car as a metaphor for a woman is hardly innovative.
Oh well, thats the Stones for you. After all, they have always been renowned for their carnal groove and sexual innuendo rather than for their lyrical prowess.