Listen Up Gen Xers: Satan Ain’t (Taylor) Swift
I first heard about Slayer in a church in Mississippi. The sermon warned of metal’s Satanic influence. Now we old head-banging Gen Xers are afraid of Taylor Swift?
I first heard about Slayer in a church in Mississippi. The sermon warned of metal’s Satanic influence. Now we old head-banging Gen Xers are afraid of Taylor Swift?
Six generations of musicians cover the Rolling Stones’ zeitgeist-capturing “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction”. Some are good. Some bad. Some just have fun with it.
The Rolling Stones’ Hackney Diamonds sounds like a great band making a good record well past the point we thought it possible.
Keith Richard’s 1977 drug bust in Toronto led to the controversial “Blind Date” benefit concert in nearby Oshawa. Many benefited, but not in the way you think.
The latest country-leaning tribute album to the Rolling Stones, Stoned Cold Country, is as unexciting as it is unnecessary.
Is the Rolling Stones’ Goats Head Soup an underappreciated classic or a reckless work marking their descent into a misunderstood and chaotic era – and should we care?
Even the Rolling Stones fans who could endure “Lady Jane” never recovered from Jagger’s falsetto, among other things, in “Emotional Rescue”, but that’s their loss.
What’s considered by many as “the last great Rolling Stones album” is back with bonus tracks and a live set. Tattoo You is 40 years old.
Drummer for arguably the world’s greatest rock and roll band, Charlie Watts wasn’t even a rock star, and that’s one of the many things that made him so great.
With the Charles Manson murders in the rearview mirror and Altamont just around the bend, the Rolling Stones channeled their audience's unexplored id on Get Yer Ya-Ya's Out, now 50 years old.
Almost 50 years on, the rock star excess on display on the Rolling Stones' Goats Head Soup still resonates.
In 1972, the Rolling Stones were holed up in a rickety mansion in the South of France, writing an epic love letter to American music. Counterbalance examines the Rolling Stones' Exile on Main St and separates the fever from the funk house—now!