The Rolling Stones – Get Yer Ya-Ya’s Out! (2009 Edition)

This little time-capsule bursts forth out of the speakers just as you would expect – with gritty sound quality and druggy edginess. It is a proper mess, in other words. The late, great Lester Bangs had a few things to say about it (see the liner notes for that.) He recognized the timeless value of this, the “greatest” rock-n-roll band of their era. He had heard their previous live release, plus at least one bootleg. And he dug this one best. Do we still care at this point? Sure, we do. It’s a quaint slice of history at the very least. It’s also the birth of arena rock. It’s Altamont and death from misadventure at what is essentially an indulgence. It’s all fun and games ‘till someone gets stabbed during “Sympathy for the Devil.”

Well, these tracks were recorded a few days before the official end of the 60s occurred with murder at that infamous speedway in California. But the innocence was already spoiled if indeed it ever existed. Brian Jones was dead and may as well have been for years. The surviving Stones were still in their 20s but had seen and done it all already. There was nowhere to go but deeper and deeper into the bloated belly of rock exploitation and spectacle -- the light shows, the costumes, the choreography. And deeper the Stones went, as we all know.

So here we are at the cusp of all that. You would not hear anything this raw again emerge from these cats. It’s a mixed blessing, really. I’d guess it would sound best under the influence of several stiff whiskey drinks. To me, it is a profound testament to excess but not a particularly well-delivered set of songs. The songs themselves had seen success as studio releases and here many of them suffer from whatever distractions were present at the time. “Stray Cat Blues” is positively grooveless compared to its studio counterpart.  “Sympathy for the Devil” loses all semblance of the evil samba the Stones conjured up on the original recording.  Sure, Keith Richards and Mick Taylor trade a couple of lead breaks that stretch the song in interesting ways, but compare that to the succinct, laser-beam precision that Keith brought to the version you heard on the radio a hundred times. (Did you ever notice that in the studio version there is no guitar at all until the lead break?) Bangs seemed to like “Street Fighting Man” best of the set, and I have to agree.  It benefits from nearly incessant wailing from Mick Taylor and an appropriately pleasing, messy delivery by all parties. Dig that. Why not?

The previously-unreleased songs (on a separate audio CD for no good reason) add a couple of acoustic blues numbers and a segue from “Under My Thumb” into “I’m Free” that ends up being surprisingly stagnant. The DVD traces the same arc, but with inferior versions of the songs. It comes off as an outtakes reel from the movie Gimme Shelter, filmed during the same tour. Mick appears sloshed in every scene and perhaps the best of the short film is a brief, introspective turn by Keith on backstage piano.  Mick also clowns around with the Grateful Dead as they all prepare to 'copter in to Altamont.

A third CD adds a handful of songs each from opening acts B.B. King and Ike & Tina Turner. Their appearance with the Stones, then and now, is a magnanimous effort to expose them to an audience they may not have otherwise reached. My inner cynic says it was also a way for this box to grow to a proportion that would justify its hefty price. The material itself is fine and all, but not something the typical Rolling Stones fan is itching to hear.

All in all, this re-release of a recognized classic live album is not the value it may seem on paper. Clever marketing cannot disguise the cash-grab nature of its relatively weak offerings. You and I know there are mountains of unheard, live Stones in the archives that would blow this box away. There's film, too. When, oh when will it emerge?