Sticky Fingers – The Rolling Stones (1971)

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And the journey through the back catalogue continues. Like the majority of albums I have reviewed/will be reviewing (in due time), I have a long and storied history with Sticky Fingers. Now, I grew up in a household that didn’t play that much music, but when music was played, it usually consisted of radio-friendly classic rock. But every once in a while, I’d venture off onto my own path and dig through my dad’s cd collection. I remember one of those late-afternoon discoveries quite vividly.

My eyes lay transfixed on the three or so rows of CDs in front of me. As I started to fumble through the rows, one shelf at a time, I discovered a handful of fantastic albums: this one; LA Woman by the Doors; Janis Joplin’s Greatest Hits; and a late 80s’ Eric Clapton double live album. Quite frankly, I was much more interested in Morrison and Co. than any of the other albums mentioned. However, I grew incredibly curious over Fingers’ album cover: for awhile, I thought it was an up-close of Jagger; apparently, it was a former Warhol model. Ah, the more you know.

As the story goes, I put the disc into an old-school cd radio player I had had since childhood. On came “Brown Sugar” and then the rest followed. And… I didn’t like what I heard; I didn’t even finish the album. As time progressed, I became much more interested in Let It Bleed (due primarily to the fascinating album cover).

Flash forward to the end of my first year at college and I started to begin “reviewing” albums privately: I had a worn-out journal that I recorded all of my thoughts in (naturally, it was home to my short capsule reviews). After listening to Fingers again (this time, all the way through), I remember giving it an A+ (as if that meant anything). As the days passed following my primordial review, I felt a nastiness and displeasure towards the album. Perhaps it was the extended impromptu jam session on “Can’t You Hear Me Knocking” or the laughably over-the-top “Dead Flowers”, or the irritable gravity of “Sister Morphine”, but alas, I grew tired of it overall. Thus, my journey and subsequent evaluation of this 1971 release ended there.

But, quite frankly, stories are never over in their entirety; hence, throughout the last half a year or so, I’ve listened to Fingers periodically. In the last half-week, I’ve grown really appreciative of a section of the songs: the dismal and weary “Sway”; the heart-wrenching and candid “Wild Horses”; the all-out reverence found in Fred McDowell’s “You Gotta Move”; and the shortened and believably more focused alternate version of “Can’t You Hear Me Knocking” (I have the deluxe edition in my library). However, undoubtedly one of the most complex and naturally cathartic songs I’ve heard in the last couple years goes to none other than “Moonlight Mile”. Without a shadow of a god damn doubt, one of my top five Stones songs. It means so much to me.

“Mile” speaks volumes to me. Throughout my time in college, I’ve managed a very serious case of troubling depression that plagued me incessantly for a year in a half. This song deals with abject loneliness and isolation; something that appealed to me tremendously. As such, it holds a special place in my heart and mind. Hell, the entire album does, and I’m grateful for that.

Rating: 5 Stars (An album I’ve had quite conflicting feelings about; something, which I’d never thought I’d want to fully write about. Things change, however. As did my perspective of this album surely did.)