Goats Head Soup (1973)
1.Dancing with Mr.D
2.100 Years From Now
3.Coming Down Again
4.Doo Doo Doo Doo Doo (Heartbreaker)
5.Angie
6.Silver Train
7.Hide Your Love
8.Winter
9.Can You Hear the Music
10.Star, Star
The years 1968 to 1972 are widely acknowledged as the golden era of the band’s recorded output—an almost uninterrupted string of essential, electrifying works. So naturally, one approaches the follow-up with a raised eyebrow and the uneasy question: what changed? The answer, as revealed on this particular release, is subtle but clear. The edge has softened. The spontaneity—which once burst forth seemingly without effort—now feels calculated, rehearsed, and perhaps a touch overworked. It’s not a bad record by any stretch, but its sheen of polish somewhat dulls the raw urgency of its immediate predecessors.
There is, however, a curious transformation beginning here. For the first time, the band appears to fully embrace the evolving musical palette of the early 1970s—specifically, funk. To aid in this shift, they enlist outside talent: Bobby Keys provides some of the era’s most exhilarating saxophone licks, while Billy Preston’s peerless keyboard textures add a welcome sophistication. These contributions are not merely decorative—they are foundational. One could argue this is their first record that truly belongs to the seventies, not just in terms of chronology but in spirit. Of course, by this point the band had entered the realm of legend. Many of their peers from the early sixties had already fallen silent. The Stones, however, persisted. Perhaps, though, the arrests, the excesses, and the mythology had begun to outpace the music.
Curiously, the album stumbles right out of the gate. One is left baffled by the decision to open with Dancing with Mr. D. A sluggish, uninspired rocker, it limps forward with neither menace nor melody, and stands as one of the more ill-advised openers in their catalog. Matters don’t improve with the closer either—Star Star (originally titled, with typical bravado, Starf*cker) is a sub-Chuck Berry romp with lyrics so puerile and tone-deaf that even the Stones’ well-earned reputation for provocation can’t redeem it. The infamous stage prop—a giant inflatable phallus—only amplified the cringe.
Thankfully, the record recovers its footing quickly. Angie remains one of their finest ballads, commercially bulletproof and emotionally resonant. The second single, the delightfully titled Doo Doo Doo Doo Doo (Heartbreaker), is a minor triumph—one of those rare Stones tracks where the hook, the groove, and the social commentary all coalesce effortlessly. The lesser-known album cuts provide further reward: Winter drapes itself in desolate beauty, while Coming Down Again finds the band in an unusually reflective mood. Can You Hear the Music, though slightly overlong, is an interesting experiment in atmosphere, perhaps better suited to the time of its release than to modern ears. Silver Train is pure swagger, and 100 Years Ago offers a whimsical, almost nostalgic detour.
Taken as a whole, the album is a qualified success—uneven in execution, but often underrated in retrospect. It’s not a masterpiece, and it doesn’t pretend to be. But it proves that even with a few missteps and a fading sense of danger, the Stones could still craft something vital—ten years on from their debut, and still very much in the fight.
Go back to the main page
Go To Next Review