Talk about first world problems. This insightful documentary from Stephen Kijak follows the (in)famous moment in rock history when The Stones were living as tax exiles in France in 1972, recording the classic, frankly brilliant ‘Exile On Main Street’ .
Baked…and then there’s BAKED. Keef, chilling in the sun.
In their fabulous interior at Ville Nellcote, having got over English weather and baked beans.
Keith, Anita and Marlon. Pics: Dominique Tarle. Large top image: Robert Frank.
The obligatory whining of spoilt rock stars is hilarious, initially. Charlie Watts and Bill ‘burst yer hymen’ Wyman complain about missing PG Tips, English weather and the “awful French milk”, but the segments zooming in on the creative process are more fascinating. Despite the fabulous location of Ville Nellcote, the recording equipment was rudimentary, to say the least. Plugs didn’t fit. Stuff broke down. Things blew up. The band were miffed.
There’s relative outsider perspectives, too. Mick Taylor, a relative Stones novice, drinks in the private jets, sun and women, and American saxophonist Billy Keys is even more crude in his appraisal.
But of course, this being The Stones, darkness is never far behind…Jake Weber, son of the band’s dealer recalls becoming, effectively, a little drugs mule, and rolling joints for everyone as an eight year old. And Anita Pallenberg admits heroin-induced paranoia, indulging every day as regular as a nine to five occupation. Keith Richards sleeps for 24 hours at one point. And the unfortunate theft of instruments is only vaguely registered by the wasted collection of waifs and strays around the pile.
So, okay, clichés abound. You can almost smell this film. But it’s all really kind of irresistible, unlike the self-indulgent, baggy Godard film a few years before, because the music is here in abundance, and damn, what songs: ‘Sweet Virginia ‘, ‘Tumblin’ Dice’, ‘Turd On the Run’, ‘Loving Cup’, ‘Hip Shake’,’Happy’,’I Just Want To See His Face’, ‘All Down The Line’, ‘Casino Boogie’.. This is the ultimate melding of as Richards says, “Black and white music together”. It’s sleazy, majestic, raw, gritty, experimental, and extremely intimate…Everything that’s beautiful about music.
Hit The North 