It's Only Rock 'N Roll (1974)
1.If You Can't Rock Me
2.Ain't Too Proud To Beg
3.It's Only Rock 'N Roll (But I Like It)
4.Till the Next Goodbye
5.Time Waits For No One
6.Luxury
7.Dance Little Sister
8.If You Really Want To Be My Friend
9.Short and Curlies
10.Fingerprint File
By the time of It’s Only Rock ’n Roll, The Rolling Stones were no longer merely a band—they were an institution, a brand, and, as the cover cheekily implies, more than a little aware of it. Long crowned “The World’s Greatest Rock and Roll Band,” here they seem to parade the title like a piece of costume jewelry—worn half in jest, half in triumph. The title track, It’s Only Rock ’n Roll (But I Like It), is itself a curious wink—part parody, part celebration—but beneath the surface, one senses something a bit too effortful, too self-aware.
This may be the most polished record in the band’s entire catalogue, and therein lies the primary flaw. The Stones, of course, had previously proved that polish was not merely unnecessary—it was a hindrance. On tracks like Luxury, for instance, everything seems impeccably in place. The riff is strong, the melody memorable, and there’s a sly reggae pulse threading through it all. But it’s hard not to imagine how much more thrilling the result might have been if they’d simply banged it out with the looseness and abandon of Exile on Main St.. The same criticism dogs Dance Little Sister—it grooves, yes, but it never quite lets go.
The album opens with If You Can’t Rock Me, a number presumably designed to announce the band’s continued vitality. It doesn’t quite land. The energy is there, but so is a sense of calculation. The spontaneity—once their hallmark—feels rehearsed. One is reminded of a well-rehearsed encore rather than a lightning bolt from the stage.
Where the record finds its footing is in its flirtation with seventies soul. If You Really Want To Be My Friend, guided unmistakably by Billy Preston’s influence, is easily the standout—a slow-burning, emotive piece that feels both authentic and fully realized. And while Fingerprint File is hardly subtle (either musically or thematically), it’s undeniably effective—a paranoid, funky echo of Doo Doo Doo Doo Doo (Heartbreaker) from the previous album, Goats Head Soup. Elsewhere, Till the Next Goodbye flirts gently with country and provides a needed change of mood.
The remainder is more uneven. Time Waits for No One aspires to greatness but suffers under its own ambition. At over six minutes, its languid pace tests one’s patience, and despite a lovely guitar solo, it overstays its welcome. Short and Curlies, a quick blues throwaway, aims for humor but misses badly—sounding more like an in-joke that didn’t land.
Viewed as a whole, the album is a textbook case of "what might have been.” There are glimpses of brilliance, but they remain just that—glimpses. The restraint, the clean lines, and the studio sheen may have appealed to the band’s growing professionalism, but in doing so, they left behind the rawness that once made them so vital.
Of particular historical note: this would be Mick Taylor’s final appearance on a Stones LP. Despite his low public profile, Taylor presided over what many consider the band’s most creatively potent period. His departure surprised few—he had long appeared uncomfortable in the spotlight—but it marked the end of an era nonetheless. He would go on to do much outside the band, albeit mostly from the shadows. Perhaps, in his case, that's exactly where he wanted to be.
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