From the vantage point of forty years, the generally positive response to The Rolling Stones’ Tattoo You (out 8/24/81) at the time of its release seems to have been overly relative to the criticism accorded its predecessors. Both Undercover and Emotional Rescue betray the influence of the pop and disco music of the era, thereby assigning inordinate weight to the lightweight elements of the iconic British band’s style. Authentic soul/r&b underpinnings going back to the days of covering Solomon Burke, Bobby Womack, and Don Covay are without question essential elements of the Rolling Stones sound, but definitely secondary to the pure rock and roll blues likes of Chuck Berry, Willie Dixon and Muddy Waters (from whose song the band took its name).
The latter component is definitely in shortage on this record, but certainly not in the form of the opening track.“Start Me Up” doesn’t bear much direct resemblance to “Johnny B. Goode,” “I Just Want to Make Love to You” or “Mannish Boy,” but it is unmistakable evidence of exactly where those roots lie for Jagger/Richards and company. One of the greatest riffs in Stones’ history, it has deservedly become as indispensable to their shows as “Jumping Jack Flash” and “Honky Tonk Women.”
Yet it’s also a recording of no little learned studio artistry too, demonstrating how the group had learned to emphasize the structure of a song while simultaneously showcasing their mechanics as a band (even without the remixing and remastering afforded the Virgin reissue of 1994). The solos, such as they are, derive directly from the rhythm guitar parts, around which Mick squalls as if to purposely remind us what a great singer he can be when he doesn’t have to run around a stage. Unfortunately, it’s necessary to go all the way to the other end of these eleven tracks to find one conceived and executed with comparable sophistication.
With the added highlight of a saxophone solo from no one other than Sonny Rollins’, “Waiting on a Friend” stands as the soulful, mid-tempo ballad mirror image of the opening cut and so leaves an almost equally indelible impression. It was certainly ideal for the video the Stones entered in the burgeoning MTV market, but in retrospect, that clip carries an ironic tinge in light of the festering fraternal friction between The Glimmer Twins (a pseudonym for producers here Mick and Keith) that became so prevalent later in the decade circa 1986’s Dirty Work.
The co-founding guitarist had been receding from his status as a primary functionary of the band as the Seventies wore on, leaving the frontman to serve as the titular leader of and prime mover for the Stones for nigh on a decade. Hearing Tattoo You with the clarified hindsight of time thus compels questions about what the record might have sounded like had those two charter members been more fully engaged and in sync with each other; notwithstanding the contributions from a plethora of guest musicians–among them Billy Preston, Santana percussionist Michael Carabello and ex-Stone guitarist Mick Taylor—it’s almost fair to ask whether more thought was given to the music or the (admittedly striking) Grammy Award-winning cover graphics.
Needing ‘product’ upon which to base an upcoming tour and not having done formal sessions for an extended period, unfinished studio tracks to which instrumentals and vocals were added became the bulk of the 1981 album. Not surprisingly, the record suffers for that very lack of cohesion concentrated studio sessions would prevent: “Slave,” for instance, might well benefit from a punchy horn chart to complement Jagger’s falsetto vocals as well as another gutsy horn interlude from the aforementioned jazz icon. “Heaven” contains recognizable echoes of the lush cinematics in “Moonlight Mile” on Sticky Fingers, but they are only faint. And while both “Tops and “Worried About You” are also viable r&b/soul-rooted tunes, style wins out over substance on both.
Nevertheless, their essentially ephemeral nature might’ve been camouflaged with more intricate arrangements or another rocker sequenced in their midst. Better yet, another blues-oriented number like “Black Limousine” would reduce the one-colored nature pervading the album from that point on: notable as much for its tart harmonica courtesy Sugar Blue as for the self-awareness expressed in its lyrics, this twelve-bar resides comfortably next to the raucous clatter of “Hang Fire” and Richards’ thrashing, salacious kiss-off “Little T&A.” Similarly upbeat and noisy likes of either number, inserted into the last half of Tattoo You, would serve the purpose of turning it into more than just an inferior carbon copy of 1978’s Some Girls.
As it is, “Neighbors” foreshadows Stones originals of later years, i.e., on A Bigger Bang: rote writing and performing, a far cry from the deeply-invested likes of “Beast of Burden” or even the honestly emotional cover rendering of the Temptations’ “Just My Imagination (Running Away with Me).” And the placement of “No Use in Crying” as the penultimate cut of Tattoo You only reaffirms the notion there is simply too much that sounds too similar during the latter two-thirds of this LP.
The assembly of the record, however, not only supplied the product necessary to accompany the Rolling Stones tour of its time, but also implemented a process used for later reissues of Exile on Main Street and Goats Head Soup. It’s a template once again utilized for an expanded version of this forty-year old LP set for release later in 2021 and though none of the various configurations may change the initial impression(s) lingering from four decades, the quintessential Rolling Stones that is “Start Me Up” is really all we have to hear, even after all these years.
