Dr. Octopus said:
21. Brown Sugar
Year: 1971
US Album: Sticky Fingers
Songwriter: Jagger/Richards
“Gold Coast slave ship bound for cotton fields
Sold in the market down in New Orleans
Scarred old slaver knows he's doin' all right
Hear him whip the women just around midnight”
Both Mick and Keith have said that although this was credited to Jagger/Richards it was almost 100% Mick’s song.
Rock critic Robert Christgau wrote:
Mick has called the lyrics “ambiguous” but there’s surely at least a stanza or two that deals with a slave owner having sexual relations with one or more of his slaves.
This one is a pure rocker lead by Keith and Mick Taylor guitars and another stellar performance by Bobby Keys on sax.
Never had the writer urge. Because i speak in an original fashion, folks always thought i did so they kept asking me to write stuff for em and sometimes i did. A youth-minister friend asked me to help him write a revue for his youth group to perform, a parent asked me to turn it into a play for their community theater. Then they solicited another play and a Boston company glommed onto that & vroomp, i was a playwright. My gf asked me to produce commercials for her radio station, i wrote some parodies of the ads i did for her podunk clients, the DJs liked em and asked me to write blackouts for em & vroomp, i had a syndicated radio comedy show and had written over 2000 pgs of performed comedy before i was 25. But soon as people stopped asking i stopped writing.
Move ahead 20 years. My wife dies, i detox from meth in my uncle's hunting cabin in NH, ain't nothing to do. I'd seen a TV show on this 18th C con man who ended up being a factor in the American & French Revolutions and putting Catherine the Great (without an ounce of Russian blood) on the throne. When i went to do some research @ nearby Dartmouth, it turns out the French were prolific letter-writers and Baker Library had a LOT of it. I could read French (my dad's people are from the VT/Que border) with a dictionary at hand and this guy turned out to be a real cool subject - tricky & profound. Vroooomp, I'm a novelist.
No, i'm not. Screenplay guy? Turns out, no. The connections & transitions that longform required used skills i didn't have, i'd been lucky that my youthful enthusiasm got me to the end of one str8ahead play, but that was it. Got a second idea from the same era (which i love - the Enlightment-to-Romantic period is a great metaphor for today's issues) chased that down for over a year, couldnt hump it.
What does this all have to do w Brown Sugar?! wtf do you care - read me or dont.
Then i got an idea for a play. For crissakes, i'd done a play. I saw somewhere that the germ of our two greatest horror figures, Frankenstein & Dracula, were the product of a ghost-story telling contest between poets Lord Byron, Percy Shelley, Shelley's wife Mary and Byron's physician, all summering together on Lake Geneva but forced inside by bad weather. If there's as natural a framework for a play than the Jim Morrison & John Lennon of their time telling stories and puzzling how a 17yo girl could come up with both the first great science-fiction AND horror novel, i dont know what it could be.
Thing is, they're poets. They talk like poets, Byron extravagantly so. I read a Robert Frost poem once - i think it was 1962. Started reading their poetry, found out that poets reference each other like a mofo, so had to chase down all the epics & sonnets & awful crud they cited. What's worse, it turned out i can only understand poetry if i read it aloud in a a British accent so i did that. Paradise Lost is like 230 pgs of verses, some of the older stuff even longer. All of it ickickick to me until i read Dante. I'll save you the trouble of explaining why but Dante plugged me in. I read up from him and starting getting that stuff and, soon, i could write Byron sub-referencing Shakespeare, Southey & Donne like he was the Dennis Miller of 1816. It really is some stuff, altho it'll probably die w me cuz i cant finish anything, i showed it to my best pal 10 yrs ago and he
still stares @ me like i'm an alien, like no other living human could write that just from 40 pgs.
But i figured out a very significant thing - where comedy writers come from. 200 years ago, you couldn't swing a dead raven over your head without hitting a poet. Now there's none - those heartsick saps & dark angry wimmens who think they're poets are merely identifying themselves as reefed egos looking for hostages. Nowadays, everybody thinks they got the funny by the tail. Back then, there were very few humorist and no yuksters. Same people, different times - the poetic gene is alive & well but has been co-opted into the shortforms of modern media entertainment, mostly comedy because both odes & jokes require highly tight, evocative patterns of wordplay.
I further proved this to myself, and came full circle on the entire process, when i tried writing a musical (elsewhere explained) and found out that songs (esp those for musical theater, the function of which Sondheim says, is to show that the world is a different place at the end of a song than at the beginning) are shaped just like jokes . Same setups, same beats, similar payoff.
Once i understood this i could explain why, at his best, Mick Jagger is far & away the best lyricist of the rock era.
Syllables.
For generations, lyrics followed melody in a gracious form of logic, free to be cleverclever as they wanted to be. When Keef & Mick heard the delta blues, that heard those rhythms of men showing their power in a powerless world by chopping their words into syllables and stackin' em in yo face. But the words themselves weren't much (goin' down to the station & such) and they didn't lend themselves to singing along because of the rhythms & anger within.
Sir Michael comes along, hears Stew & Keef break those rhythms down, fuse R&B structures upon them and, while the Beatles will always be better, the Stones will be more important because they wrote and played their best things at the same speed that testosterone courses thru the body and thereby took Rock & Roll and made it ROCK, which is what everybody has been playing since. At the same time, Jagger took the oo-baby-you out of it lyrically and showcased worlds and sitches in which the anger & power of rock could manipulate attitude & behavior. And the world was manipulated by postwar wills-to-power beginning to play on the AM radio til young idiots pounded dashboards then guitars to find their statement. And the Liverpuds can go str8 to hell cuz they didnt even get that. Gimme a beer.
That's enough for me and more'n enough for you. I'll break down the Brown Sugar lyrics - the culmination of the phenomenon and, as Christgau said, "a rocker so compelling that it discourages exegesis" - another time.