So, we've now reached the point in discussing both careers that it has moved from who has the greatest album to which albums suck the least?

That basically makes me think the best idea is to just ignore all recent output from either.

And, Love and Theft fucking SUCKS.

Voodoo Lounge confirmed that the Stones could age gracefully, but it never sounded modern; it sounded classicist. With its successor, Bridges to Babylon, Mick Jagger was determined to bring the Rolling Stones into the '90s, albeit tentatively, and hired hip collaborators like the Dust Brothers (Beck, Beastie Boys) and Danny Saber (Black Grape) to give the veteran group an edge on their explorations of drum loops and samples. Of course, the Stones are the Stones, and no production is going to erase that, but the group is smart enough -- or Keith Richards is stubborn enough -- to work within its limitations and to have producer Don Was act as executive producer. As a result, Bridges to Babylon sounds like the Stones without sounding tired. The band is tight and energetic, and there's just enough flair to the sultry "Anybody Seen My Baby?," the menacing "Gunface," and the low-key, sleazy "Might as Well Get Juiced" to make them sound contemporary. But the real key to the success of Bridges to Babylon is the solid, craftsmanlike songwriting. While there aren't any stunners on the album, nothing is bad, with rockers like "Flip the Switch" and "Low Down" sounding as convincing as ballads like "Already Over Me." And, as always, Keith contributes three winners -- including the reggae workout "You Don't Have to Mean It" and the slow-burning "How Can I Stop" -- that cap off another fine latter-day Stones record.

Eight years separate 2005's A Bigger Bang, the Rolling Stones' 24th album of original material, from its 1997 predecessor, Bridges to Babylon, the longest stretch of time between Stones albums in history, but unlike the three-year gap between 1986's Dirty Work and 1989's Steel Wheels, the band never really went away. They toured steadily, not just behind Bridges but behind the career-spanning 2002 compilation Forty Licks, and the steady activity paid off nicely, as the 2004 concert souvenir album Live Licks proved. The tight, sleek, muscular band showcased there was a surprise -- they played with a strength and swagger they hadn't had in years -- but a bigger surprise is that A Bigger Bang finds that reinvigorated band carrying its latter-day renaissance into the studio, turning in a sinewy, confident, satisfying album that's the band's best in years. Of course, every Stones album since their highly touted, self-conscious 1989 comeback, Steel Wheels, has been designed to get this kind of positive press, to get reviewers to haul out the cliché that this is their "best record since Exile on Main St." (Mick Jagger is so conscious of this, he deliberately compared Bigger Bang to Exile in all pre-release publicity and press, even if the scope and feel of Bang is very different from that 1972 classic), so it's hard not to take any praise with a grain of salt, but there is a big difference between this album and 1994's Voodoo Lounge. That album was deliberately classicist, touching on all of the signatures of classic mid-period, late-'60s/early-'70s Stones -- reviving the folk, country, and straight blues that balanced their trademark rockers -- and while it was often successful, it very much sounded like the Stones trying to be the Stones. What distinguishes A Bigger Bang is that it captures the Stones simply being the Stones, playing without guest stars, not trying to have a hit, not trying to adopt the production style of the day, not doing anything but lying back and playing.

Far from sounding like a lazy affair, the album rocks really hard, tearing out of the gate with "Rough Justice," the toughest, sleaziest, and flat-out best song Jagger and Richards have come up with in years. It's not a red herring, either -- "She Saw Me Coming," "Look What the Cat Dragged In," and the terrific "Oh No Not You Again," which finds Mick spitting out lyrics with venom and zeal, are equally as hard and exciting, but the album isn't simply a collection of rockers. The band delves into straight blues with "Back of My Hand," turns toward pop with "Let Me Down Slow," rides a disco groove reminiscent of "Emotional Rescue" on "Rain Fall Down," and has a number of ballads, highlighted by "Streets of Love" and Keith's late-night barroom anthem "This Place Is Empty," that benefit greatly from the stripped-down, uncluttered production by Don Was and the Glimmer Twins. Throughout the album, the interplay of the band is at the forefront, which is one of the reasons the record is so consistent: even the songs that drift toward the generic are redeemed by the sound of the greatest rock & roll band ever playing at a latter-day peak. And, make no mistake about it, the Stones sound better as a band than they have in years: there's an ease and assurance to their performances that are a joy to hear, whether they're settling into a soulful groove or rocking harder than any group of 60-year-olds should. But A Bigger Bang doesn't succeed simply because the Stones are great musicians, it also works because this is a strong set of Jagger-Richards originals -- naturally, the songs don't rival their standards from the '60s and '70s, but the best songs here more than hold their own with the best of their post-Exile work, and there are more good songs here than on any Stones album since Some Girls.

This may not be a startling comeback along the lines of Bob Dylan's Love and Theft, but that's fine, because over the last three decades the Stones haven't been about surprises: they've been about reliability. The problem is, they haven't always lived up to their promises, or when they did deliver the goods, it was sporadic and unpredictable. And that's what's unexpected about A Bigger Bang: they finally hold up their end of the bargain, delivering a strong, engaging, cohesive Rolling Stones album that finds everybody in prime form. Keith is loose and limber, Charlie is tight and controlled, Ronnie lays down some thrilling, greasy slide guitar, and Mick is having a grand time, making dirty jokes, baiting neo-cons, and sounding more committed to the Stones than he has in years. Best of all, this is a record where the band acknowledges its age and doesn't make a big deal about it: they're not in denial, trying to act like a younger band, they've simply accepted what they do best and go about doing it as if it's no big deal. But that's what makes A Bigger Bang a big deal: it's the Stones back in fighting form for the first time in years, and they have both the strength and the stamina to make the excellent latter-day effort everybody's been waiting for all these years.

Strange that an album only five years old feels dated. but I'm afraid that's the case here. I am an unabashed fan of "Streets of Love" though even if it is essentially an 80's hair metal ballad.

- taken one at a time a lot of these songs are solid, but the album as a whole becomes overwhelming and i think that might go back to production issues. Voodoo Lounge seemed the most varied and easy to get through.

The biggest problem with the Steel Wheels to present day period stuff is that it truly is Stones-by-Numbers -- they should really do something to shake shit up.

I don't disagree with you but I do think that this is what makes Bridges the best of the modern era--it takes a few more chances and actually sounds better.

Like, fuck, "Out of Control" is awesome.

they're both a colossal improvement over the shit they released in the 80s - but they just sound so utterly pointless.

As the debut album on the Rolling Stone label in 1978, Bush Doctor benefited immensely from the involvement of Jagger and Richards, as well as the publicity inherent in the high-profile nature of the release. Thankfully, Tosh was up to the challenge, and although there are moments that are less roots than anything he had previously recorded, Bush Doctor is no slick sellout. It's bolstered by his incredible Word Sound & Power band featuring the legendary Sly & Robbie rhythm section along with lead guitarists Mikey "Mao" Chung and Donald Kinsey (fresh from his stint with Marley). Although the cover of the Temptations' "(You Gotta Walk) Don't Look Back" single featuring Jagger's duet with Tosh seemed like an obvious ploy at crossover radio play, the rest is more roots conscious, and only slightly less compelling than some of ex-bandmate Bob Marley's work. The horns on "Moses -- The Prophet" seem like sweetening, but the title track, "I'm the Toughest," "Stand Firm," and a remake of an old Wailers' track "Dem Ha Fe Get a Beatin," complete with I-Threes-style backing vocals, are some of Tosh's best songs. Only the original album's closing track, an ambitious but overwrought retelling of Genesis with Handel's "Messiah," is a major misstep. Yet even here, Tosh is pushing boundaries, adding bird and thunder sound effects to his soft guitar strumming accompaniment. It's interesting but few will want to hear it more than once.

(The Unreleased 1964 Blues Album)
The Rolling Stones "Confessin The Blues"At Chess Studios, Chicago, dubbed from the original master tapes. Tracks 1- 13, 16 -23 are in glorious stereo tracks 13-15, 24-27 are in glorious mono For more information, read the liner notes inside the booklet.

Track 27: rejected first version, as performed (mimed to playback) on US-TV show "Shindig" on 20 May 1965)
Track 21: unreleased Bill Wyman composition

Despite the odds, the Rolling Stones' Stripped held out great promise. Voodoo Lounge was an energized return to studio form for the Borg of rock & roll road shows. From that platform, the idea of taking it back to small clubs — live, lean, and pared-down without succumbing to the worn "unplugged" treadmill — seemed an inspired move. Patched together from an embroidery of tour rehearsals and live club dates in Paris and Amsterdam, the project was an extension of acoustic sets the group introduced on the North American leg of the Voodoo Lounge tour. The concept offered an invigorating opportunity to dust off some rough gems from the past that no longer felt at home on sloping stadium stages. Unfortunately, the cover photo depicting a lean, determined, leather-clad combo in Spartan black and white proves to be misleading advertising. Within the brave packaging lies a listless, lethargic Dorian Gray bluff. Spongy keyboards gunk many of the tracks. The much-touted cover of Dylan's "Like a Rolling Stone" remains pointlessly devoted to the original. There are lazy, somnambulant versions of "I'm Free" and "Let It Bleed"; Keith Richards' "Slipping Away" is painfully intoned; and there are dozens of lost songs that any fan would choose to have renovated before "Angie."

http://tinyurl.com/2u9qo89

Dismissed as a rip-off of sorts by some critics as it took the patchwork bastardization of British releases for the American audience to extremes, gathering stray tracks from the U.K. versions of Aftermath and Between the Buttons, 1966-1967 singles (some of which had already been used on the U.S. editions of Aftermath and Between the Buttons), and a few outtakes. Judged solely by the music, though, it's rather great. "Lady Jane," "Ruby Tuesday," and "Let's Spend the Night Together" are all classics (although they had all been on an LP before); the 1966 single "Mother's Little Helper," a Top Ten hit, is also terrific; and "Have You Seen Your Mother Baby, Standing in the Shadow?" making its first album appearance, is the early Stones at their most surrealistic and angst-ridden. A lot of the rest of the cuts rate among their most outstanding 1966-1967 work. "Out of Time" is hit-worthy in its own right (and in fact topped the British charts in an inferior cover by Chris Farlowe); "Backstreet Girl," with its European waltz flavor, is one of the great underrated Stones songs. The same goes for the psychedelic Bo Diddley of "Please Go Home," and the acoustic, pensively sardonic "Sittin' on a Fence," with its strong Appalachian flavor. Almost every track is strong, so if you're serious about your Stones, don't pass this by just because a bunch of people slag it as an exploitative marketing trick (which it is). There's some outstanding material you can't get anywhere else, and the album as a whole plays very well from end to end.

The most interesting archival release of the Rolling Stones since More Hot Rocks, 20 years ago, and the first issue of truly unreleased material by the Stones from this period. And the Stones have some competition from the Who, Taj Mahal, and John Lennon on the same release. Filmed and recorded on December 10-11, 1968, at a North London studio, Rock and Roll Circus has been, as much as the Beach Boys' Smile, "the one that got away" for most '60s music enthusiasts. The Jethro Tull sequence is the standard studio track, but the rest — except for the Stones' "Salt of the Earth" — is really live. The Who's portion has been out before, courtesy of various documentaries, but Taj Mahal playing some loud electric blues is new and great, the live Lennon rendition of "Yer Blues" is indispensable, and the Stones' set fills in lots of blanks in their history — "Jumpin' Jack Flash" in one of two live renditions it ever got with Brian Jones in the lineup, "Sympathy for the Devil" in an intense run-through, "Parachute Woman" as a lost live vehicle for the band, "You Can't Always Get What You Want" as a show-stopping rocker even without its extended ending (no Paul Buckmaster choir), and "No Expectations" as their first piece of great live blues since "Little Red Rooster." It's a must-own, period.

A live document of the Brian Jones-era Rolling Stones sounds enticing, but the actual product is a letdown, owing to a mixture of factors, some beyond the producers' control and other very much their doing. The sound on the original LP was lousy -- which was par for the course on most mid-'60s live rock albums -- and the remasterings have only improved it marginally, and for that matter not all of it's live; a couple of old studio R&B covers were augmented by screaming fans that had obviously been overdubbed. Still, the album has its virtues as a historical document, with some extremely important caveats for anyone not old enough to recognize the inherent limitations in a live album of this vintage. The first concerns the history of this release -- the Got Live if You Want It! album (not to be confused with the superior sounding but much shorter, U.K.-only extended-play single, issued in England in mid-1965) was a U.S.-only release late 1966, intended to feed a seemingly insatiable American market. As a best-of album had been issued in March 1966 and Aftermath in June of the same year, and the Stones had just come off of a major U.S. tour (which proved to be their last for over three years), another album was needed, to bridge the gap in America between the those earlier LPs, the two most recent singles -- "Paint It, Black" and "Have You Seen Your Mother, Baby, Standing in the Shadow?" -- and the Between the Buttons album, which was not going to make it out in time for the Christmas season.

The result was Got Live if You Want It!, which was intended to be recorded at a concert at Royal Albert Hall on September 23, 1966, the Stones' first live appearance in England in over a year. The problem was, as was memorably stated by a writer in Rolling Stone magazine a few years later, the Stones in those days didn't play concerts -- they played riots, and that was precisely what happened at Royal Albert Hall, as several hundred fans charged the stage, overwhelming the band before they'd gotten through the opening number, "Paint It, Black." The scene was captured in the footage later used in the promotional film for "Have You Seen Your Mother, Baby, Standing in the Shadow?" What was left of the show, once order was restored, was taped, along with at least two other shows on that tour over the next week or so; and it should also be remembered that in those days the group seldom played for more than 30 to 40 minutes, and sometimes less than that, much like the Beatles in concert. And the audience noise, much as it was with the Beatles, was overwhelming in the days before stacks of Marshall amps became routine in a band's equipment -- indeed, at some shows, at certain moments, only the tempo of Charlie Watts' drumming could tell you which song the group was doing, and the band members couldn't hear much more than the crowd -- matters such as tuning instruments and precise playing, even down to the most routine changes, became exercises in futility. Add to that the limitations of live recording, and the inevitable sound leakages and other problems, and one can see how this album was easier to conceive than to actually bring off successfully. When all of the tapes were assembled, the producers were left with about 28 minutes of material that was usable to varying degrees, and even that was somewhat wishful thinking by the standards of the day. (Apart from the Kinks' Live at Kelvin Hall [aka The Live Kinks], few groups or record labels in 1967 had the courage to release a concert album that sounded like the real article.) And here, someone -- the Stones' producer, London Records, whoever -- started fiddling around, twirling knobs, changing balances, and making the stuff supposedly sound "better," and bringing in a couple of studio tracks, "I've Been Loving You Too Long" and "Fortune Teller," and laying on some crowd noise to bring the show up to an acceptable length for an LP.

The result is the Rolling Stones album that has undergone more changes than any other in its various incarnations. First, there was the original LP version and the mix it featured, which left out most of the introduction and virtually any between-song talk by Mick Jagger; his voice was brought up and the rest of the band sounds somewhat suppressed; one channel of the stereo version had Jagger's voice isolated and amplified to ridiculous prominence, while the other channel had a relatively "flat" and realistic balance on the concert material. In fact, if you took the latter channel and bumped it onto both channels of an open-reel tape, the result was a short but pretty good live performance. In the mid-'80s, ABKCO Records took control of the Stones' library and went back to the original source tapes for the Got Live if You Want It! CD, re-editing the material in consultation with producer Andrew Oldham, improving the mixes on several of the songs, including "The Last Time," "Time Is on My Side," and "19th Nervous Breakdown," and also giving a fuller account of Long John Baldry's introduction. That was a step in the right direction and improved the record somewhat. Then, in 2002, came the SACD hybrid remastering of the album for a new CD edition, which is likely to be the last word in improvement on this album. The balances are finally realistic, in terms of Jagger's voice and the rest of the band -- Bill Wyman's bass work and Charlie Watts' drumming are consistently rewarding, and Keith Richards and Brian Jones have their moments, as well, though not as consistently. The performances were done, after all, under what were, at best, siege conditions, with little opportunity for finesse or nuance.

The one element that does come through consistently is the excitement and sheer kinetic energy generated by the band. The older songs come off the best -- though one is glad that they do "Lady Jane," the dulcimer-dominated piece comes off in this setting a lot like "Yesterday" did when the Beatles did that in concert; audiences shriek and scream over a quiet, reflective song that really doesn't merit that response, and the result as a live performance is off-kilter; the group's rendition of their then-current single, "Have You Seen Your Mother, Baby, Standing in the Shadow?" is a bit chaotic, although it does give the band a chance to show what Keith Richards' critique of the studio version's burying of the rhythm section was all about -- he and Brian Jones do their best to compensate for the lack of overdubbed brass stabs. The only real disappointment is the finale, "Satisfaction," which comes off as quick, ragged, and chaotic -- it was impossible to interlock the guitars the way the group's sound needed, and it has no real ending, which is why it's faded down. The album is a lot more uneven than the much shorter EP of the same name (available on Singles 1963-1965), but it is now at least a fairly honest document of what rock & roll concerts in the mid-'60s were like. Ironically, Got Live if You Want It! wasn't released in England until more than a decade later and, in the interim, in 1971, Decca Records took some of its tracks, jumbled them up with some cuts off the 1969 concert album Get Yer Ya-Ya's Out!, and combined them under the misleading title Gimme Shelter, as though it were the soundtrack to that movie (despite a disclaimer on the back), and generally infuriated fans on both sides of the Atlantic in the process.

Recorded during their American tour in late 1969, and centered around live versions of material from the Beggars Banquet-Let It Bleed era. Often acclaimed as one of the top live rock albums of all time, its appeal has dimmed a little today. The live versions are reasonably different from the studio ones, but ultimately not as good, a notable exception being the long workout of "Midnight Rambler," with extended harmonica solos and the unforgettable section where the pace slows to a bump-and-grind crawl. Some Stones aficionados, in fact, prefer a bootleg from the same tour (Liver Than You'll Ever Be, to which this album was unleashed in response), or their amazing the-show-must-go-on performance in the jaws of hell at Altamont (preserved in the Gimme Shelter film). Fans that are unconcerned with picky comparisons such as these will still find Ya-Ya's an outstanding album, and it's certainly the Stones' best official live recording.