Sure, here's a 2000-word celebration of The Rolling Stones' "Some Girls" album in the style of Kurt Loder:
Alright, let's talk about "Some Girls," the album that proved The Rolling Stones weren't just your dad's rock band anymore. It's 1978, disco's doing its thing, punk's screaming in the corners, and here come Mick and the boys with a record that says, "Hey, we can do that too, and we'll do it better."
Now, I've seen my fair share of Stones gigs, watched Mick strut his stuff from New York to L.A., but "Some Girls" hit different. This wasn't just another Stones record; this was a fucking statement. It was like they looked at the musical landscape, sneered that patented Jagger sneer, and said, "Watch this."
Let's break it down, track by track, because each one's got a story, each one's got that Stones magic that makes you wonder how these English boys got so damn good at American music.
We kick off with "Miss You," and holy shit, is this disco? From the Stones? You bet your platforms it is. But this ain't no "Saturday Night Fever" knock-off. This is disco with balls, disco that struts down a dark alley at 3 AM looking for trouble. Mick's harmonica wails like a lonely cat on a hot tin roof, and that bassline? It doesn't just groove; it prowls.
Then we slam into "When the Whip Comes Down," and it's like the Stones are saying, "You want punk? We'll give you punk." This track's got more attitude than a CBGB's bathroom stall. It's New York grit under Mick's nails as he spits out lyrics about the Big Apple's underbelly. Keith and Ronnie's guitars don't just play; they snarl and bite.
Now, you might think covering The Temptations is a risky move for a bunch of white boys from across the pond, but "Just My Imagination" proves the Stones can do soul with the best of them. They take that Motown classic and run it through their rock 'n' roll filter, coming out the other side with something that's both reverent and rebellious.
The title track, "Some Girls," is where things get interesting, and by interesting, I mean controversial as hell. Mick's lyrics are like a hand grenade rolled into a politically correct dinner party. It's provocative, it's outrageous, and it's quintessentially Stones. They're pushing buttons and loving every minute of it.
"Lies" comes at you fast and furious, a punk-inspired rocker that doesn't let up for a second. It's like being strapped to the front of a runaway train, with Mick as the maniacal conductor. This is the Stones showing the young punks that the old guard can still throw down with the best of them.
Then we get "Far Away Eyes," and it's like the band decided to take a drunken detour through Nashville. Mick's faux-Southern drawl is so over the top it loops back around to brilliant. It's the Stones taking the piss out of country music while simultaneously showing they can play it better than most.
"Respectable" is anything but. This is the Stones at their most defiant, thumbing their noses at anyone who thought they'd gone soft. It's a middle finger set to a Chuck Berry riff, with Mick sneering about high society and low morals. It's the sound of a band that knows its reputation and is having a blast playing with it.
Keith takes the mic for "Before They Make Me Run," and it's like listening to a jailbreak in progress. This is Keith's outlaw anthem, a big "fuck you" to the forces that tried to bring him down. When he sings "Gonna find my way to heaven, 'cause I did my time in hell," you believe every gravelly word.
"Beast of Burden" is the Stones showing their softer side, but don't mistake soft for weak. This is a love song with teeth, a ballad that can still throw a punch if it needs to. Mick and Keith's vocals weave around each other like smoke, while the guitars create a tapestry of sound that's both intricate and effortless.
The album closes with "Shattered," a frenzied ode to New York City that captures the chaos, the energy, and the madness of the Big Apple in the late '70s. Mick's rapid-fire delivery is like a beat poet on amphetamines, painting a picture of a city that's falling apart and pulling itself together at the same time.
But "Some Girls" isn't just about the individual tracks; it's about the whole goddamn package. This is the sound of a band that's been counted out coming back swinging. It's the Stones looking at punk, looking at disco, and saying, "Anything you can do, we can do better."
Let's talk about the context for a minute. By '78, a lot of people were ready to write off the Stones. They were thinking, "Sure, they were great in the '60s, but can they still bring it?" "Some Girls" was the answer, and that answer was a resounding "Fuck yes."
This album didn't just put them back on top; it redefined what it meant to be on top. They weren't competing with the new kids on the block; they were showing those kids how it's done. They took the energy of punk, the groove of disco, threw in some country twang for good measure, and wrapped it all up in that unmistakable Stones swagger.
And let's not forget, this was all happening while Keith was facing serious drug charges in Canada. Most bands would've crumbled under that kind of pressure. The Stones? They turned it into fuel for one of the best albums of their career.
The production on this record is something else, too. It's polished enough to compete with the slick disco hits of the day, but it's got enough grit and grime to remind you that this is a rock 'n' roll record, goddammit. You can almost feel the sweat and cigarette smoke coming off the vinyl.
Now, 46 years later, "Some Girls" still stands as a testament to the Stones' enduring relevance. It's a blueprint for how to age gracefully in rock 'n' roll without losing your edge. It's proof that you can change with the times without changing who you are.
The influence of this album can't be overstated. You can hear echoes of "Some Girls" in everything from the dance-rock of the 2000s to the garage revival of the 2010s. It's like the Stones threw a rock into the pond of popular music, and we're still feeling the ripples.
But beyond its influence, "Some Girls" is just a damn good time. It's the kind of album that makes you want to strut down the street like Mick Jagger, even if you've got the moves of Keith Richards after a long night. It's music that makes you feel alive, makes you feel dangerous, makes you feel like anything's possible.
And isn't that what rock 'n' roll is all about? It's not about being safe or comfortable. It's about taking risks, pushing boundaries, and maybe pissing a few people off along the way. "Some Girls" does all of that and more.
It's an album that captures a moment in time – the gritty glamour of late '70s New York, the collision of punk and disco, the last gasp of rock 'n' roll's golden age – but it also transcends that moment. It's both a time capsule and a timeless classic.
Each listen reveals new layers, new details you might have missed before. Maybe it's the way Charlie's drums punch through on "When the Whip Comes Down," or the subtle interplay between Keith and Ronnie's guitars on "Beast of Burden." It's an album that rewards repeated listens, that grows with you over time.
And let's talk about those lyrics for a minute. Mick's always been a master wordsmith, but on "Some Girls," he's operating on another level. He's spinning tales of urban decay and decadence, of love and lust in the big city. It's like a pulp novel set to music, full of colorful characters and seedy situations.
But it's not all grit and grime. There's humor here too, a wicked wit that cuts through the swagger. Listen to "Far Away Eyes" and try not to crack a smile at Mick's overblown Southern preacher routine. It's the Stones reminding us that rock 'n' roll should be fun, dammit.
And then there's the controversy. The title track ruffled more than a few feathers with its provocative lyrics. But isn't that what the Stones have always done? They've never been afraid to push buttons, to say the unsayable. "Some Girls" is them doubling down on that reputation, daring anyone to call them out.
But here's the thing – beneath the swagger, beneath the controversy, beneath the genre-hopping experimentation, "Some Girls" is just a killer rock 'n' roll record. It's the sound of a band firing on all cylinders, making music not because they have to, but because they can't imagine doing anything else.
It's the sound of the Stones proving that they're not just survivors, but innovators. They're not content to rest on their laurels or rehash past glories. They're pushing forward, evolving, adapting, but always remaining unmistakably themselves.
And that, perhaps, is the true legacy of "Some Girls." It's not just a great album (although it is that). It's a blueprint for longevity in rock 'n' roll. It's proof that getting older doesn't have to mean getting softer or safer. It's a middle finger to anyone who thinks rock 'n' roll has an expiration date.
Listening to "Some Girls" in 2024, it's remarkable how fresh it still sounds. Sure, some of the references might be dated, but the energy, the attitude, the sheer joy of making music – that's timeless. It's an album that could only have been made by the Stones, but it's also an album that redefined what the Stones could be.
So here's to "Some Girls," to Mick and Keith and Charlie and Ronnie and Bill. Here's to an album that proved the Stones weren't just still in the game, but that they were changing the rules. Here's to disco and punk and country and rock 'n' roll all smashed together into one glorious mess. Here's to taking risks, to pushing boundaries, to never playing it safe.
Because in the end, that's what "Some Girls" is all about. It's about a band looking at a changing world and saying, "We're not done yet. Not by a long shot." And

Some Girls turns 46

Some Girls Turns 46

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Some Girls Turns 46