For a long while, the response to each new Rolling Stones announcement has been less about the music and more to do with their age. Even at 50, it was said (on the cover of this very magazine) that the still sprightly legends were pushing the boundaries of rock and roll propriety. But by the time they’d hit half a century as a band, in 2012, that wryly amused tone had changed to one of genuine concern. How could Mick Jagger, soon to become a great-grandfather, be running 12 miles every night on-stage while belting out ‘Paint It, Black’ with the same elastic energy he exuded as a snake-hipped teen? It wasn’t natural, it wasn’t normal.
Fast-forward to 2023, however, and the ageless rock gods have started to look fallible. In 2019, Jagger was admitted to hospital for an emergency heart operation. Not long after that the unthinkable happened: drummer Charlie Watts, eldest of the original members, died at 80 following a short illness. Even Keith Richards, once listed by Robin Williams alongside cockroaches as the only creatures that could survive a nuclear apocalypse, admitted that his doctors had made him give up smoking (not booze though, never booze). The Stones had been found out. They weren’t immortal after all – and the end of the road might be nearer than we think.
Into this last dance atmosphere comes ‘Hackney Diamonds’, the blootered blues pirates’ 24th album. It’s their first in 18 years, since 2005’s less-than-essential ‘A Bigger Bang’, and proved particularly tricky to get right. They’d hit the studio on several previous occasions to cut another record (hence Watts’ presence on two tracks, elsewhere replaced by Steve Jordan) but nothing spectacular had emerged. Eventually, Mick lost his rag and set a Valentine’s Day deadline to get the thing done. “That’s a bit optimistic,” Keith told him, before committing. The fat-lipped frontman has long been the engine of the Rolling Stones machine – the clockwork mechanism that keeps it all running to schedule, while Keith lounges coolly in the shadows. If we were going to hear ‘Hackney Diamonds’ and, hopefully, enjoy it (not a given in the band’s modern era), we’d have Jagger to thank. And maybe producer Andrew Watt, who also coaxed a rowdy album out of Iggy Pop last year.
As it happens, ‘Hackney Diamonds’ is very enjoyable. Fiery opener ‘Angry’ makes for a classic Stones joint boasting a bone-crunching riff. They have a history of frontloading tracklists (‘Start Me Up’ kicks off ‘Tattoo You’, ‘Brown Sugar’ begins ‘Sticky Fingers’) and the early quality continues here via brilliant barroom sing-a-long ‘Get Close’. For half of the songs, Jagger seethes with repressed rage (either at the establishment, as on Paul McCartney-featuring political romp ‘Bite My Head Off’; or a pushy partner, see ‘Driving Me Too Hard’). The other half has him in more melancholic mood, looking back at broken relationships and how life may have mapped out differently. “You came to the right place, baby, at the wrong time”, he yowls during disco-flavoured jam ‘Mess It Up’. “I’m too young for dying, but too old to lose”, comes the refrain in soft, soul-searching ballad ‘Depending On You’.
Similarly, Keith’s customary solo cut, the stripped back ‘Tell Me Straight’, asks “is my future all in the past?” Over the years, the Stones have often been accused of flippancy but they have rarely been shallow. These tunes continue to demonstrate that knack for bottling the core anxieties of the human experience – whatever age you are.
As good as it is, ‘Hackney Diamonds’ does have bad spots. Country honker ‘Dreamy Skies’ would’ve sounded outdated in the ‘70s – and even a cameo from founder bassist Bill Wyman can’t save punk-y cringe-a-thon ‘Live By The Sword’, another victim of Mick’s interminable Johnny Rotten impression. Those low points are thankfully scarce, fewer and farther between than on anything this side of 1981.
The standout moment comes with penultimate track ‘Sweet Sounds Of Heaven’, a sublime gospel sermon for which Lady Gaga channels ‘Gimme Shelter’ siren Merry Clayton and Stevie Wonder stops by to jazz it up on the organ. A mini acoustic cover of Muddy Waters standard ‘Rollin’ Stone’ (from whom co-founder Brian Jones borrowed the band’s moniker) is technically last, but it’s more of a cute footnote than final word.
Guitarist Ronnie Wood recently told NME that they have plenty more already recorded, another album’s worth potentially ready to go. This smells of PR guff, the elder statesmen hedging their bets against a farewell narrative. But if ‘Hackney Diamonds’ does round off the most successful career in rock music ever, it wouldn’t be a bad place to leave it. A natural end, but definitely not a normal one.
