Mick Jagger
Primitive Cool

In the vast and varied theater of modern popular music, the spot assigned to Mick Jagger is, without fear of contradiction, right in the front row. This 66-year-old son of the English middle class (father and grandfather were teachers, mother a hairdresser), much less transgressive, vicious, and "dangerous" than the media have argued and fans have imagined all these years, rightfully belongs in the Olympus of the greats thanks to an immense, almost unique personal charisma, a true gift of nature that has benefited rock as a whole, as well as him and the Rolling Stones, much more than his actual musical abilities.

Mick's big lips have become a stereotype of outrage and non-conformism; the man behind them as early as 1971 decided to take administrative control of his group, distancing impresario Allen Klein and personally taking care of the financial side of things and therefore his own destiny with rational punctiliousness, practicality, and, when necessary, cynicism. Later on, when in 2003 he received the proposal to be named Sir by the British Royals, he accepted with pride and delight, heedless of partner Keith Richards' curses ("Fucking paltry honour!") and the derision of his right-thinking drummer Charlie Watts ("Anyone else would be lynched: wives and children left and right and they make him a Knight!").

Mick Jagger is one of the geniuses of rock music and this by virtue of his image, personality, and talented showmanship that has essentially contributed to expanding the collective imagination of the image of a group's frontman. From a technical standpoint, he holds a powerful and steady voice (he is truly a born singer, after all, he claims to have been singing... since he was born!), recognizable among thousands, incredibly personal, an indisputable human heritage for historical and dissemination merits.

He moves me just the right amount, far less than many others, as it's... rude, and not very flexible. As a composer, being much more of a singer than an instrumentalist, Jagger has always needed (even for this record...) to rely on one or more musicians capable of stimulating him with good chord progressions, which he then refines with his vocal line and lyrics: the role (one of the roles) of his alter ego Richards in the Stones, in essence.

Here on "Primitive Cool" Keith is just not there, as the album, the second under Jagger's name and dated 1987, comes out in the middle of one of the most acrimonious and hostile phases of their relationship. The new friends Mick attempts to consolidate an effective solo career with here, ready to forever quit with the Stones in case of great success (which won't be...), are named David A. Stewart (the one from the Eurythmics, a sort of parsley of the eighties, hyperactive and hyper-compositional), Keith Diamond (co-producer), and as far as the lead guitar is concerned, an old acquaintance and still the best on the market: Jeff Beck.

The relationship between Beck and the Stones is love/hate: attracted by the success and charisma of the group, who always courted him when it was time to change guitarists, Beck has always harbored strong doubts about the musical consistency (or rather, the rhythm...) of the band. In the end, the marriage never happened, but the first two solo Jagger records, this one and the previous "She's The Boss", see the prodigious soloist adding value with his inimitable touch. Jeff isn't given much space on this album, but just listen to the guitar theme that opens and supports the initial "Throwaway" to be amazed at how sound, choice, and flavor given to each single note are from another planet.

The single taken from this collection is unfortunate, to say the least: "Let's Work" is a clumsily rhymed blues rock rendered as square as possible to be danceable, but the rhythmic groove is unfortunate, while the insipid lyrics advise us to work hard "to conquer poverty" (whose poverty? Since when does the result of the vast majority of our work benefit the poor?) and not to be lazy... Much more danceable, even for the standards of those times, is the track that titles the album, where electronics and traditional instrumentation (even trumpet and saxophone) are intertwined and connected together by an impeccable production that also mixes oriental-like mellotron splashes á la Led Zeppelin with hard riffs and funky breaks, in rotation.

The second part of the album is more pleasant because it's less cheeky/song-like and more rock, particularly the pair consisting of "Shoot Off Your Mouth" and "Peace For The Wicked", robust hard blues (especially the first) in which Jagger's rough and spirited voice is very convincing. "Party Doll" instead seems to evoke the Rolling Stones' ballads of the late '60s, half country and half pop. However, the autobiographical epilogue of "War Baby" is pretentious and a bit boring because it's too long. It is confirmed, in this release as well, that Mick undoubtedly has the stature of a great frontman of a group (and who can doubt that?), but not exactly that of a soloist, a singer-songwriter.