England’s Oldest Hit Makers: The Rolling Stones at 60
Reflections on the roots of the group’s debut LP

I don’t think I’m alone in dividing the first two decades of The Rolling Stones’ career – in very broad strokes – as one of the great singles bands of the 60s and one of the great album bands of the 70s.
I may be more alone in my previous assessment that their approach to American blues and soul in their earliest days was somewhat stiff, with their genius truly starting to shine when Mick Jagger and Keith Richards came into their own as songwriters. But time has a way of flattening out some differences in music, if not in the way things sound at least in how effective they are as music.
And so it is with the debut album by The Rolling Stones, which was released in the UK 60 years ago this month, during what was the Cambrian explosion of British rock & roll. Consisting of nine covers and three originals, it presents as both a fan’s notes and a callow, even obnoxious, intrusion into a world they understood mostly on an instinctual level: “That sounds cool – gimme some of THAT.”

When I revisited the album after a long hiatus, I was delighted with its energy and attitude, no longer hearing it as paling (pun intended) in comparison to its forbears but shouldering its way into the party that began in the Mississippi Delta and continued on the south side of Chicago. In order to try and get a handle on what was going on, I made a playlist putting the originals up against the versions by the Stones. Here are some of the impressions that hit me along the way.
“Route 66”
This song, written by Bobby Troup in 1946, already had some mileage on it by the time the Stones got to it, with Chuck Berry making his mark on it in 1961. His take gives it a sublime shuffle, a light rhythmic touch that provides the perfect underpinning for the dance between Berry’s guitar and Johnnie Johnson’s piano. Berry’s vocal conveys fun and insouciance and his guitar solo rips out of the speakers with a feral roar, putting a carnal spin on those kicks that he definitely had on Route 66 and elsewhere. The Stones are having nothing of Berry’s mostly subtle approach, the sharp, nervous guitars of Richards and Brian Jones locking in with Jagger’s handclaps, giving it a sound more in common with The Stooges’ debut, five years in the future, than Berry’s rich blend of jazz and R&B. Jagger snarls his way through the lyrics, naming places he’s never been but to which he desperately wants to go. It’s become a bit of lazy music journo shorthand to declare things punk rock before punk rock, but this rip through an American standard definitively added some of those mutations to rock ‘n’ roll’s DNA.
“I Just Want To Make Love To You”
I’m almost 60 myself and the performance by Muddy Waters of this Willie Dixon classic can still make me feel like an utter child. Every word out of Waters’ mouth – not to mention every note from Little Walter’s harmonica – reminds you that these are MEN singing and playing and their audience is WOMEN, not teenagers. But the Stones are unintimidated, not trying to match Muddy’s mysterious power but convinced – and probably correctly – that the same nerve they used on the opener will get them where they want to be, i.e. some bird’s bedroom. There are some good harp noises in the background but nothing like what Walter could do – or even Britain’s greatest practitioner, Keith Relf of The Yardbirds.
AUDIO: The Rolling Stones “I Just Want To Make Love To You”
“Honest I Do”
The harmonica playing on this take on the Ewart Abner/Jimmy Reed song, originally cut by Reed in 1957, shows a little more depth, but that could be because the tempo is slower. After the opening salvo of songs, it was wise to slot in a more relaxed song and Charlie Watts matches the groove quite nicely as well as the intro, rapping on his snare like a spurned lover at the door, begging for readmission after being locked out.
“Mona”
Released in 1957 as the B-side to Bo Diddley’s eighth single, “Hey Bo Diddley,” the original has a looser variation of his signature beat and a vocal performance that leans into a hoodoo caterwaul. The Stones take an almost clinical approach to the beat, giving it a physical presence more solid than Diddley’s suggestive rumble, with maracas placed just so in the mix. The guitars shiver and grind and Jagger cuts through it all with a sharply nasal howl.
“I’m A King Bee”
Speaking of nasal, Slim Harpo sounds like he’s singing exactly through his nose on the unaccompanied intro to the 1957 recording of his song, before drummer Clarence “Jockey” Etienne starts thudding away like a sledge laying track and John “Fats” Perrodin adds a distinctive sliding effect on bass. “Sting it man,” Harpo says, relaxed as can be, before Gabriel “Guitar Gable” Perrodin’s two-note guitar solo, adding to the back porch vibe. Surprisingly, Mick is less nasal here than on “Mona,” and sounds a little uncertain whether he should be taking the piss or not. Brian Jones contributes a nicely nervous slide guitar solo, getting a couple more bars than Perrodin and earning every second, while Bill Wyman handles the sliding bass with a natural feel.
“Carol”
The “A” side to Berry’s seventh single (1958) is one of his greatest songs and his performance has everything that made him a seismic figure, from the guitar fanfare that opens it and the conversational lyrics, straight through to the sinuous guitar solo. “Out of the way old man,” the Stones seem to declare on their turbocharged version, which has a scything guitar tone and a breakneck tempo. At 2:34, the fadeout makes it seem almost like a tease. Release the full take! Oddly enough, six years later, the fine live take on Get Your Ya-Ya’s Out, features a tempo closer to Berry’s original.
“Can I Get A Witness”
Marvin Gaye’s titanic one-take tracking of this Holland-Dozier-Holland burst of pure gospel-soul was a dance-floor smash in the UK in 1963. And why not? Benny Benjamin’s drums could put the boogie in a boardroom stiff and Earl Van Dyke’s distinctive piano seems to build a church around you as you dance. Not to mention that white-hot vocal! The Stones give it a springy nursery rhyme rhythm, confirming that, despite Ian Stewart’s best efforts on piano, they’d never been to a Black church, while Jones’ and Wyman’s background vocals are mercifully buried in the mix, but it’s all fun and Jagger’s impassioned lead vocal makes up for a host of sins.
“You Can Make It If You Try”
A dose of pure soul, Gene Allison’s 1957 version of the Ted Jarrett song leaves plenty of space around his warm tenor, bathing it in churchy organ. Jagger’s singing on the Stones’ recording is so supremely confident that the backing vocals seem superfluous. There’s a charming amateurism to the way someone (an overexcited Jones perhaps) hammers away at a tambourine, almost drowning out the organ.
“Walking The Dog”
Rufus Thomas was already in his mid-forties when he wrote and recorded this slab of proto-funk, giving something for the kids to catch up to. The Stones ditch the Wedding March intro, which is fine, but also lose some of the rhythmic flexibility. Still great however, especially when Richards and Jones lock into a gnarly explosion that’s easily the best guitar soloing on the album. Jones doubles Jagger on vocals for an interesting effect, adding variety, something for which he would become more important during his short career with the band.
The Originals
With The Beatles acting as inspiration and goad, it was natural for the Stones to try their hands at songwriting. The debut finds their talent for same in very nascent form.
“Now I’ve Got A Witness (Like Uncle Phil and Uncle Gene)”
The first original on the album was an instrumental, collectively composed by the band and credited to Nanker Phelge, which included manager/producer Andrew Loog Oldham and Stewart. There’s a nice little rabbit hole to be followed with this track, with its references to “Uncles” Phil Spector and Gene Pitney, both of whom were around for the sessions. However, it’s a mostly forgettable little garage rock jam based on “Can I Get A Witness” and featuring none of the dynamic excitement The Yardbirds were giving out even on an off night at the Marquee Club.
VIDEO: The Rolling Stones “Little By Little”
“Little By Little”
Co-credited to Nanker Phelge and Phil Spector, this smoking cut is a world away from “Witness,” with an urgent tempo, furious riffing, and Jagger taking total charge at the mic. Originally released earlier in 1964 as the B-side to the Stones’ take on Buddy Holly’s “Not Fade Away” – which led off the American debut, titled England’s Newest Hitmakers – “Little By Little” was the first proof that there was a self-generating engine of great rock & roll within the band.
“Tell Me (You’re Coming Back)”
According to one legend, Oldham locked Jagger and Richards in a kitchen and told them to write a song. They came up with “As Tears Go By,” an utter classic that was a hit for Marianne Faithfull later in 1964. Unfortunately, this is not of the same quality. It is certainly intriguing that the one “Glimmer Twins” song on the debut is not derived from blues or R&B but rather a sloppy attempt at a Merseybeat ballad, but that interest quickly wanes over four long minutes. Perhaps the weirdest thing about “Tell Me” is that it became the Stones’ first Top 40 hit in the U.S., albeit in a more palatable 2:37 edit. Proof positive of how hungry Americans were for British sounds. Of course, there would be many more classics to come, starting with their first single of 1965, which featured two Jagger-Richards all-timers, “The Last Time” and “Play With Fire.”
Also by 1965, none of the songs from the debut were in the setlist when The Rolling Stones hit Hamburg for some rough and ready gigging.
While an auspicious introduction to the world of album-making and a supremely fun listen, The Rolling Stones was just square one for the band and one from which they advanced with lightning speed.
- Time for Livin’: Sly and the Family Stone’s Small Talk at 50 - July 23, 2024
- England’s Oldest Hit Makers: The Rolling Stones at 60 - April 22, 2024
- Bob Dylan: The Songs They Are A-Changin’ - February 10, 2024



