Let’s address the elephant in the room. No, let’s address the hideous, three-faced humanoid in the room. The artwork of Foreign Tongues amalgamates the facial features – and upper torsos – of Mick Jagger, Keith Richards and Ronnie Wood, similarly to the respective Frankensteinings of Queen’s The Miracle and Metallica’s Hardwired to Self-Destruct. It is not easy on the eye, no matter if you have two or six, and while it is intently depictive of the shared memories of the three surviving stones, it achieves nothing but the implausible goal of making Mick Jagger’s massive mouth even massiver.
Maybe it was just supposed to be funny. I think recruiting Bruno Mars to play a cowbell or Chad Smith to play a bass drum is funnier, but it’s not like the cover itself won’t make you laugh. At least AI wasn’t used to make it. If you’re offering ugliness, at least offer some good old-fashioned human ugliness, which is more than I can say for the deep-faked music video The Rolling Stones released for In the Stars.
But unlike said video, Foreign Tongues proves that the Stones don’t need to deepfake their youthfulness. The album contains casual splatters of old age’s sweet, decrepit naturality, but also the so raw, so dirty, so wild blues rock the band more-or-less perfected in the late ‘60s and early ‘70s. Any southern rock album the band makes at this point is bound to feel like a lesser version of Let It Bleed, Sticky Fingers or Exile, but the old-timers that made this one are still hungry.
Even if the Stones are keeping up appearances, the genuineness of their appearance is kept. They’re still a dive bar band, gritty and boozy no matter how many butlers they can fit into each of their mansions.
The lyrics range from meat-heated white blues typicality to nostalgic, bittersweetness, friendship and experience. These are the perfect cohorts to the band’s bluesy hunger, especially when there is a touch of resemblance or repurposing of the classics, even if the classics were basic rock songs. Mr. Charm has that Gimme Shelter vibe in its chorus and guitars, without the additional dramatics of that particular hit, and Hit Me in the Head nasties it up with a mucky, Let’s Spend the Night Together aura, with a bit more “shit” and “puke” – why do I admire them for that?
The album covers the complete spectrum of blues rock to the point of Divine Intervention offering nothing but silly riffs to run down the street to. Luckily, it’s mostly Delta-style stomper-howlers like Rough and Twisted, which prove that Mick still has it in him to belt one out with his massive mouth.
None of it is inventive by choice, though I admire Beautiful Delilah, which sees the Stones turn a Chuck Berry song into a Led Zeppelin–Blind Willie Johnson folk jam, which is a much more interesting adaptation than what most rock bands have done with the song – see The Kinks’ version.
And hey, that’s the perfect segway into the album’s other cover – and I’m not talking about other album cover, unfortunately, we’re stuck with this one. You Know I’m No Good is a respectful, heartfelt rendition of the Amy Winehouse original, keeping all the intense cues of the original, including the drum smashes on the pre-chorus, and the Ronson-y horns. Amy’s vintage is carried over, but it sounds fresh enough to feel like a real tribute and not just karaoke, like Mick is powering it out in a bar with a bunch of friends backing him up.
The band’s youthful hunger also involves mooching for a hit, via In the Stars’ guitars, reminiscent of Michael Jackson’s Black and White, Covered in You’s familiar chorus, and a couple of diversions into funk, disco and plastic soul, including Never Wanna Lose You, and Jealous Lover’s ridiculous high register, that has somehow grown on me – its guitar lines a bit like Radiohead’s High and Dry.
But youth be damned! These guys have lived and they’re proud of it! I mentioned that the album does face up to the wornness of old age, and it does it well. Oftentimes, when a rock album is so proud of rocking with its cock out, the personable, lamenting left turns are its best moment, whether tearfully looking back or smelling the roses once you’re finished smelling the cock. And I’m not talking about the sad, bourbon-y Ringing Hollow, which is par for the course albeit reasonably mournful.
No, I’m talking about Some of Us, its imperfection mastered by aging, Keith Richards’ croaked voice singing the perfect imperfect ballad, primed from a theme so universal – needing somebody – it is practically aged itself. I love it when you can hear Mick that little bit more.
And I’m talking about Back in Your Life, a.k.a. bittersweetness overloaded into an explosive, six-minute dive bar ballad. The penultimate song of the album contains some of the band’s most famed chord changes, like harsh turns into minor fifths that plunge back into minor tonics, and a world-shattering solo from Ronnie.
Andrew Watt has been credited with revitalising older artists. He was recommended to the Stones by Paul McCartney for their previous album, Hackney Diamonds. It just recently got the ultimate reminiscence album out of McCartney, and now, he’s got the ultimate reminiscence-tenacious continuance album out of the Stones. These foreign tongues wet teeth that have the bite of a much younger, eager DIY-style band – not bad for a small clan of famous Englishmen, not bad for the surviving Stones.
Best tracks – You Know I’m No Good – Some of Us.
Rating – 7 out of 10
