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Pussy galore exile on main street

With the anniversary of Exile On Main Street garnering , column inches, Huw Nesbitt explains why Pussy Galore's bastardised version is the better listen. The recent surfeit of press over The Rolling Stones reissue of Exile on Main Street is liver curling to say the least. Now this - an extra disc of outtakes on top of the already lengthy double album recorded in an former Nazi dungeon in France, in - forced down your gullet, begging for thanks. Right now every idiot hack in town is lining up outside west London press agencies, waiting to throttle Keith Richards with questions like, "Were you feeling okay back then? But whatever you want to say about this record, it was, undeniably, a certified classic the moment it hit the shelves - probably because it's the closest the Stones ever came to being remotely sincere in their entire lives. Oh yeah, you've got the likes of 's 'Sympathy for the Devil' as well; an apparent lament for the passing age of hippy innocence. But how seriously can you take that when the following year they press-ganged a bunch of biker crooks into stage minding them for the blood bath that became Altamont? Like the Beatles, the Stones waded too far out into the ditch of their own egos, only to discover that not only couldn't they walk on water, but their own bullshit, too. Even the title, "Exile on Main Street", points to feelings of exclusion where they once belonged. Tracks like 'Rocks Off' Keith whinging about impending smack overdoses, heartbreak , and 'Soul Survivor' musings on failed mutinies, more heartbreak all sum it up perfectly: the hit makers were on the rocks.
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While the arty poseurs in Sonic Youth were singing about killing your idols, Pussy Galore was out there putting the knife in. Sure, Jon Spencer et al. Punk talked a good game about anarchy, but you rarely encountered the real thing on record. This is what makes Exile on Main Street so refreshing. Pussy Galore was formed in Washington, D. Besides, PG had its own sleazy revolution in mind. As for D. Mencken that somebody, somewhere, might treat punk as one very funny joke. It was Neil Hagerty guitar, vocals, violin, percussion who talked his band mates Spencer on vocals, guitar, and percussion: Julia Cafritz on guitar and vocals; Christina Martinez, a year-old non-musician, on guitar and vocals; and Bert on drums, percussion, and vocals into spoofing Exile. The results were originally released on a limited-edition copies cassette, then later in LP format minus several songs by Shove Records.

Exile on Main St. Its only official release format was the cassette tape , in a limited run of only hand-numbered copies. While Pussy Galore's version is an intentionally deconstructionist approach to remaking the original album, most of the songs on the album remain recognizable and reconcilable to their original versions. One notable exception is Pussy Galore's performance of " Shine A Light ", which, while itself an actual recording of that song, was purposefully distorted essentially beyond recognition. On a bootleg which circulates among fans, titled "Exile On Main Street Unmixed Version " or simply "Exile Unmixed", many performances that were purposefully obscured on the official release are clearly audible and it seems that the group did make somewhat of a sincere attempt to learn all eighteen songs from the original LP. In addition to the general chaos, purposeful distortion, and incomprehensible mixing and editing, the record also contains bits of dialog from the band members arguing and yelling at one another, as well as some original Rolling Stones versions of tracks from "Exile One notable appearance comes from what appears to be a copy of The Velvet Underground's song "Heroin", though it sounds as if it is skipping on a damaged vinyl record. All tracks are written by Mick Jagger and Keith Richards , except where noted. Adapted from the Exile on Main St liner notes. From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.

With the anniversary of Exile On Main Street garnering , column inches, Huw Nesbitt explains why Pussy Galore's bastardised version is the better listen. The recent surfeit of press over The Rolling Stones reissue of Exile on Main Street is liver curling to say the least.

Now this - an extra disc of outtakes on top of the already lengthy double album recorded in an former Nazi dungeon in France, in - forced down your gullet, begging for thanks. Right now every idiot hack in town is lining up outside west London press agencies, waiting to throttle Keith Richards with questions like, "Were you feeling okay back then? But whatever you want to say about this record, it was, undeniably, a certified classic the moment it hit the shelves - probably because it's the closest the Stones ever came to being remotely sincere in their entire lives.

Oh yeah, you've got the likes of 's 'Sympathy for the Devil' as well; an apparent lament for the passing age of hippy innocence. But how seriously can you take that when the following year they press-ganged a bunch of biker crooks into stage minding them for the blood bath that became Altamont? Like the Beatles, the Stones waded too far out into the ditch of their own egos, only to discover that not only couldn't they walk on water, but their own bullshit, too.

Even the title, "Exile on Main Street", points to feelings of exclusion where they once belonged. Tracks like 'Rocks Off' Keith whinging about impending smack overdoses, heartbreak , and 'Soul Survivor' musings on failed mutinies, more heartbreak all sum it up perfectly: the hit makers were on the rocks. Luckily, this brought out the best in them, and Exile But it's far from perfect, and the constant, sycophantic, reappraisal of their oeuvre through cynical franchises updating their masterpieces is a sham.

And here's why. Because apart from this being a brilliant record, it was also one that failed on its own terms, stopping short of the complete rejection of the showbiz myth that it threatened. Mick and Keith might have been disenfranchised, but alongside sentiments of addled disillusionment and isolation were signs that, deep down, they were longing for redemption 'Shine a Light' , struggling to cope with absence of dead mentors like Elvis Presley 'Rip This Joint' , and equally haunted and enthralled by that other hair rebel, Jesus Christ 'I Just Wanna See His Face'.

If anything, Exile They flirted with the void, but it was all just boyish Byronism, and they never committed Alongside Sonic Youth, Pussy Galore were the archetypal American noise band of the 80s, dedicated to degrading the aesthetics and principles of the music industry by subverting the mainstream and DIY scenes alike. They also had a sense of humour, which is rarer than rocking horse shit in American indie And what they recognised through their cover version, was that Exile Galore's version, however, simply doesn't falter.

It's built from four track tape feedback, guitars that are out of tune and time, voices telling you to go fuck yourself, versions of previous epics retroactively aborted back to unformed foetuses drowning in sonic uterine discharge, convulsing over exploding tape heads Pussy Galore weren't just ambivalent about success, but about the meaninglessness of their careers too. The Stones might have once been gods to some, but they didn't have to strength to utter a complete articulation of the truth, because all they really wanted was the joy bang to never end.

Naturally, Pussy Galore's version is hilarious, too. It's a spoof, originally released on cassettes. Nowadays you can probably pick it up for free online or as a bootleg, and it's just as important as the original. It's unpleasant, and you probably won't want to flick it on every day. But if nothing else it serves as a searing critique of the demise of what was once a fruitful rebellion, turned withering cash cow.

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