Only boring people are bored.
The people she liked, rebels mostly, disturbed her and were bad for her — she sought in them the vitality that had made them independent or creative or rugged, sought in vain — for their secrets were buried deep in childhood struggles they had forgotten.
“Despite dozens of hits, putting together a cohesive album often seemed to be beyond the Stones, tripped up by either manager Allen Klein’s publishing-rights parasitism or the band’s goofy 1970s hubris.”
—A completely inaccurate excerpt from Pitchfork’s brain dead review of the Exile On Main Street Reissue.
I’m not even sure they know what the hell they’re talking about here. First off, there’s the flawless Sticky Fingers (which is the only potential release they could be referring to in regards to Allen Klein’s interference). They talk as if “Brown Sugar” and “Wild Horses” were not on the that album because of their problems with Klein. Secondly, the prevention of assembling a coherent album because of both Allen Klein and “1970’s hubris” is impossible, outside of the aforementioned album. 1970’s “hubris” didn’t prevent Beggar’s Banquet, and Let It Bleed. Further, Allen Klein had nothing to do with Some Girls. Another case of style over substance.
Yes I Can: the Autobiography of Sammy Davis Jr
“I hope to hell that when I do die somebody has the sense to just dump me in the river or something. Anything except sticking me in a goddam cemetary. People coming and putting a bunch of flowers on your stomach on Sunday, and all that crap. Who wants flowers when you’re dead? Nobody.”
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.