Hi Darling Ones,

I came to the music of The Rolling Stones very late. Up until I was about thirty I filed The Rolling Stones into the same bin of shit I didn’t care about right next to Pink Floyd, The Doors, and Led Zeppelin. They were all some weird miasma of dude-focused classic rock and I did not have time for that ish.

The only experience I can remember having with The Stones’ music before my thirties was in 4th grade when Mrs. Miller wouldn’t play the 45 for “Start Me Up” in music classic. Donny Judge leaned over, wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and explained to me that we couldn’t listen to it because it said, “You make a dead man come.” I had no idea what that meant. We also couldn’t listen to “Centerfold” by The J. Geils Band. We ended up listening to “I Love a Rainy Night” by Eddie Rabbitt a lot.

Because I came to The Rolling Stones on my own out of curiosity, my relationship with the music feels mystical. I love it outside of time or context. My affection is not pinned to a person or specific event in my life. I love the music simply because it clicks inside of my soul.

This delights me because it’s a constant reminder that music is timeless and if it is meant for you, you will come to it when you’re ready. Not all music is for all people, and that’s okay. As I’m writing this there’s a thought going on in my brain about how I don’t want to read any thinkpieces about The Stones that don’t acknowledge the mental gymnastics female fans have to do to love their music. It’s not alway easy. Some of those lyrics are rough. Also, I just want all the thinkpieces to be written by women. Men have had sixty years to bang on about The Stones, let someone else bring a new perspective.

Anyway, because I am the person I am, when I finally fell for the Stones I fell hard. There were months in the early-to-mid aughts where they were the only band I wanted to talk about just like in the mid-90s when I fell for the ‘Mats.*

I remember having long discussions with The Grad, a young, cute guy in my writing class, about why “Get Off Of My Cloud” was the best Rolling Stones song. I had the same discussion with Vodo like a month later only this time “Dead Flowers” was the best one. Vodo used to try to get me to do “Dead Flowers” at karaoke because I didn’t have to really sing it, I could just speak it. I never did because I would rather die than have everyone stare at me while I tried to sing.

Today because of Charlie Watts’ death I’m firmly in the “Get Off Of My Cloud” is the best song. That song would be absolutely noting without him. The first five seconds of that song is so fun and joyous all because of Watts.

Also, I would like to reiterate for the 69,469th time that “Wild Horses” is the sexiest song of all time and that number two is so far behind it’s a tiny dot on the horizon, so small we can’t even read the title of the song.

Well, Darling Ones, Sister #2 is gonna be here any minute, but I wanted to say some words about Watts and how sad I am over his death. This grief is a little unexpected. I’m not sure how often I’ll be updating while the fam is here. We’re unsure if the Delta Boogaloo will ruin the holidays, so this might be the last time we’re together until next June and I want to suck up as much togetherness as I can (of course right up until the moment I get annoyed and want them to go home).

If I go dark don’t worry!
Jodi

P.S. One time when I got my hair dyed a bunch of colors my friend Areg told me I reminded him of a Rolling Stones’ song and that was sweet and made my heart glow. Also, back in the Westernerd Message Board days my alias was Jodi, Queen of the Underground, and some of those nerds still call me that, which also makes me happy. Also one time at a crowded bar my FFJ changed the lyrics to “Beast of Burden” to say “my friend Jodi puts out.” I’m still blushing.

 
*For the record, I do this a lot. I fall in love with a band and then try to drag everyone I know into the love affair. See: My niece with Passion Pit, Liz Phair, and Phoebe Bridgers. Or, Wolfdogg and so many bands I cannot possibly name them all because sometimes my heart is fickle and also I get distracted. The one I remember the most is The Kooks. That was a fun month.

The post Coming Late to The Rolling Stones appeared first on I Will Dare.

Hi Darling Ones,

Another lavender plant died in my custody. I didn’t even have this one for a week before it started to die!

I was gonna say I killed it, but I think this is just a weak-ass strain of lavender. Once? yeah, probably my fault, but twice? Really? I’ve kept Muriel alive for 17 years so, like I said, I’m practically a farmer.

Even though I really want to grow lavender, I’ve decided to have it replaced with a philodendron. Like I told the very nice customer service person at Bloomscape, I cannot have another dead lavender on my conscience. I have a small vase full of dried lavender on my coffee table. I get the heart-eyes whenever I look at it because Jaycie brought me the lavender all the way from Oregon and Maxwell bought me the blue vase because it’s my favorite color and so I’d have something to keep it in. They really are the reason that I’m never too sad about not having children of my own. Being an aunt is sufficient.

That childlessness has been on my mind a bit today. This total heteronormative bullshit June 2019 article “Unmarried Women with No Kids Are the ‘Healthiest and Happiest Population Subgroup,’ Says Expert” blipped by on Twitter this morning and it made me so angry I put my glasses on at 7 a.m. even though I wasn’t ready to get up.

Excuse me, could you define happiness Expert Dude? Does it include the crushing loneliness mixed with constant financial and emotional insecurity? Where does the societal pressure fit in? How about the near constant feedback that you are pointless and could easily blip out of existence without anyone being effected in the least? Fuck man, life is hard for everyone. My hard is just different than a wife or mother, I know that. But sanctimonious assholes expect my life is all orgasms and naps all the time because I don’t have any kids or responsibilities. Thanks, Jenny, I also don’t have anyone to help pay the mortgage either.

Now, instead of rage barfing for 100 years, I’m gonna tell you one good thing about the dying lavender. No, two good things.

First of all, it smells wonderful.

Second of all, it’s still sitting on the dining room table slowly dying because in the secret optimistic chambers of my bitter, cynical heart I believe it’s going to make a dramatic comeback and thrive like a motherfucker because I want it to.

In the meantime, every time I walk past the table I sing “Dead Flowers” by The Rolling Stones. This is probably my favorite Stones’ song. Some days it’s “Get Off My Cloud” because drums and hand claps make me feel like I have Pop Rocks in my veins in a really good way.

Whenever I sing “Dead Flowers” I always think of my pal, Vodo. Many nights at Grumpy’s he would try to con me into singing karaoke and I always responded with “I’d rather die” or I would explain that I am so shy that I would die if I got up in front of people and sang with my own voice.

Just thinking about it gives me shivers of horror. I will serenade the shit out of you at our table. In Ruby. Randomly while I’m sitting on the couch. But in front of people? No.

Anyway, one of those nights we were talking about The Stones and my favorite must have been “Dead Flowers” that night and Vodo said, “You can do that one! It’s not even really singing. You can say it.” Then he busted into the first lines of the song. It was adorable.

Your queen of the underground,
Jodi

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The sun is mostly set, though it’s not wholly dark out. It’s 64 degrees out and the breeze coming through the open window a few feet away is cool, but I have socks on so it’s not too bad. Plus, I can smell the fire someone outside has built. Aside from the waning sunlight the only other light in the living room comes from the illuminated screen of Enid, my laptop.

I’ve done the dishes and put away the leftovers. The coffee maker is ready to do its thing in the a.m. On my knee is a chocolate Tootsie Pop still in its wrapper. On the table next to me, a sparkly gin & tonic with Hendrick’s and a lime so juicy it was worth the second mortgage on Supergenius HQ.

My ears are ensconced in my very favorite headphones. The lime-green $30 cheapies that I can wear for hours and hours without issue. They don’t rub against the top of my head or pinch my glasses between my ears and my head. These are very important traits in headphones. The only thing that would make them better is if they had a coiled cord. Alas, life is not perfect.

Funneling from my very favorite headphones to my ears is The Rolling Stones’ “19th Nervous Breakdown.” Next will be “Honky Tonk Women.”

This is a long way to say that I’m listening to The Rolling Stones in the dark with the window open. It is so fucking wonderful I had to tell someone about it.

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My friend Hotrod is looking for a fight, so I made this list. You’d think after all these years he’d tire of me always putting him in his place, but he’s not.

A few notes:
You won’t find “Sympathy for the Devil” here because songs over five minutes bug the crap out of me, even ones by The Rolling Stones.

Also, I just want to say I really hate “Angie.” Like, I really really hate it as if it were written by the Barenaked Ladies and performed by No Doubt.

Finally, I was lazy and undisciplined and included many songs from the same album/era. Suck it.

So here, in no particular order, the Rolling Stones’ 10 Best Songs According to Me.

Get Off My Cloud
Sometimes when I get bored with playing “what was your first concert” & “what was your first concert you paid your own money to see” I like to play “What is your favorite song by” and then insert some band with about a kajillion great songs.

When it comes to the Stones, depending on my mood, I will answer with “Dead Flowers” or this one.

First, handclaps automatically add 15% awesome to a song. Second, I like the cranky joyous curmudgeonly aspect of this song. I like to think of myself as a cranky joyous curmudgeon. And the drum lead into the handclappy chorus is just fucking awesome.

Rocks Off
I’m not generally a fan of the drug songs. Drugs don’t appeal to me or amuse me or fascinate me at all. That being said, I will take all of The Stones’ drug songs over any of The Velvet Underground’s drug songs. Confession: I do not like The Velvet Underground and I will not apologize for that anymore. This one makes the list because of “the sunlight bores the daylights out of me.” I love word play like this (see: love of Paul Westerberg).

Beast of Burden
This is a sentimental favorite because it makes me think of my friend FFJ. Confession for more years than I care to admit, I thought the lyrics included the line “suck a duck” and I thought that stupid, nonsense line ruined the song.

Miss Amanda Jones
This one wins because of that fabulous little drum fill at about 1:16 and the lyric “she looks quite delightfully stoned,” which makes me laugh. Also, its use in “Some Kind of Wonderful” even though Drummergirl was where it was at and not at all with Amanda Jones.

Let’s Spend the Night Together
Jangly piano + promise of long, fulfilling sex = Hell yes.

Shattered
The reason I love this one is pretty stupid, but, well, here it is: I like all the shatter, chatter, matter, tatter, batter rhyming. I bet Dr. Seuss loved the hell out of this song. Also handclaps.

Far Away Eyes
I like honky-tonk. I really like honky-tonk by The Stones.

Under My Thumb
Yes, I’m a feminist and yes I still enjoy “Under My Thumb.” Some people might find this contradiction worrisome and those people can shove it. First, Rock & Roll in general is misogynistic. I get that, and thanks to my deity of choice (Ellen Willis in case you’ve forgotten), I’m starting to learn how to intellectually reconcile the misogyny in songs I love with my feminism.

I go easier on songs where you can easily change the ‘she’ to ‘he’ and get the same damn song. That works with “Under My Thumb.” And, really, let those amongst us who’ve never been in an “Under My Thumb” situation (as either the thumb owner or the one under it) cast the first stone.

This one wins because of that baseline. Also handclaps. Also marimba. (bonus points for being used in the Scott Pilgrim movie)

Wild Horses
You have to be made of stone with a McNugget for a heart not to be affected by heartbroken Mick’s plaintive “No sweeping exits or off stage lines, could make me feel bitter or treat you unkind.”

Dead Flowers
Even I can concede that this is not The Stones’ best song, however it is still my favorite. There’s just something about the tension between the heroin-y lyrics and the country music with Jagger’s weird not quite fitting in with the song vocals.

The post Because You Asked: The 10 Best Rolling Stones’ Songs According to Me appeared first on I Will Dare.

I was a latecomer to the majesty and wonder of The Rolling Stones. A really, really late so late it’s inexcusable for anyone who claims to love Rock & Roll in general, and The Replacements in particular kind of comer. In fact, I was well into my thirties (or maybe just into my thirties) when I really discovered The Rolling Stones.

Until the turn of the century, my biggest memory of The Rolling Stones happened in fourth grade when Mrs. Miller wouldn’t play “Start Me Up” during the portion of music class reserved for playing the records we brought from home. Instead of The Stones, she played Kenny Thompson’s Eddie Rabbit record for the 371st time. We, the fourth graders of University Avenue Elementary, loved a rainy night like you wouldn’t believe.

“Start Me Up” wasn’t the first song Mrs. Miller vetoed. She also put the kibosh on “Centerfold” by the J. Geils Band. This totally made sense to my nine-year-old brain. Centerfolds were dirty, Jenni and I had snuck a look at her dad’s Playboys, I knew.

But “Start Me Up?” That I didn’t understand. After Mrs. Miller laid down the proclamation and before she dropped the needle on Eddie, Donnie Judge leaned over to me.

“Of course she won’t play it,” he said. Donnie was supposedly older than the rest of us, because he was allegedly held back a year. “You make a dead man come,” he said and wiggled his eyebrows in what was probably supposed to be a suggestive or knowing way.

I just nodded my head and smiled like I knew what the hell he was talking about. I, of course, had no idea.

This is, of course, is no reason to eschew The Rolling Stones for most of your life. No, I had a much better reason for ignoring them. . . I had firmly placed The Stones in the ‘Classic Rock’ ghetto of my mind. I do not like classic rock. Anything with a guitar solo that lasts more than 15 seconds bores the daylights out of me. I do not like Led Zepplin or The Doors or Pink Floyd or most anything they ever played on KQRS in the eighties and early-ninties. It’s why I have a stunning lack of knowledge where Yes and Rush are concerned and practically break out in hives whenever I hear the song “Knocking on Heaven’s Door” or it’s oft-confused with in my head twin “Stairway to Heaven.”

Until about 2005 or so, when asked about my position on The Beatles vs. Stones debate I would have been firmly in The Beatles camp. That, of course, has changed thanks to my Westernerd pals who really influenced and guided my Stones education.

When I finally fell, it was hard and fast.

Now, I have great gobs of Rolling Stones memories. Like that time FFJ sang “Beast of Burden” at karaoke on her birthday and changed the lyrics to be about me and how I put out. Or that time Westerberg said said “Tumblin’ Dice” was one of the best songs ever. Or that time my friend, the Alaskan Poet, did “Faraway Eyes” at my first ever poetry slam. Or how my Westernerd friends still call me Queen of the Underground because of my love for the song “Dead Flowers.”

My initial intention here was to list my Ten Favorite Rolling Stones songs in honor of their 50th Anniversary. I made a quicky playlist called “Best Stones” and just put my very favorites on there. It’s 21-songs long and that took much hand-wringing. To winnow that list down even more? Unpossible.

Instead, I will leave you with this, a song that makes me ridiculously happy because it involves so much I love: cover songs, Liz Phair, and The Rolling Stones.

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