The Rolling Stones: Roll Them Bones

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Jagger and Richards have spent a fair part of the '80s separately pursuing extra-Stones interests, playing the Bickersons in the rock press whenever they were queried about the plentiful tensions within the band. It was tough to pin down, even when the sniping drew a little blood, precisely what the boys were bitching about. Keith wanted to tour, Mick wanted to cruise the night life; individual ambitions ran contrary to the good of the band. Whatever it was, it seemed likely that they had been together too long -- 27 years, to be exact. So when Slipping Away begins and the husky fragility of Richards' vocal takes instant hold, it is clear that this is more than just a good closer for a record. Richards takes the lead for once, and Jagger glides in on harmony. It's a political gesture, a way of dealing with all that friction, even as it's being moved out front. And it's something more, an envoi, the start of a long goodbye.

The Stones always encouraged a dynamic of dissipation -- "their satanic majesties" -- and loved flirting with the flame. That shadow Keith Richards talks about was always there, deeper and darker than with most bands. Mick was a dandy about his decadence; Keith was devout. One book about the Stones even insisted (over Richards' later bemused denials) that Richards had his blood washed, changed and purified.

No surprise, then, that the last time the Stones took an American stage, in 1981, they looked like the supporting cast from a George Romero epic, specters from the boneyard of the pop psyche thirsting for a transfusion of celebrity. Now the boys have regrouped and regroomed; better care is being taken all around, and light is being made of age, of gossip, of old reputation. Charlie Watts, the Stones bedrock drummer, who was never one of the group's wilder revelers, looked momentarily startled the other day when a visiting writer extended a hand in greeting. "Sorry," he said, recovering. "I thought you were going to take my pulse."

"There's a lot of energy in the band right now," says Keith. "This new record's been miraculously fast for us. Mick and I are still holding our breath, saying, 'This can't last.' We pretty much wrote it in a month and laid down the basic tracks in about five weeks." To get the steel wheels on track so quickly, Jagger and Richards set aside those publicized vexations to find a common footing.

Richards made a solid solo album last year, which was helpful. It got him a piece of the cynosure that has always been Jagger's property. Mick turned out two solo albums himself -- the second enterprising and entertaining -- but neither enjoyed superstar success. Jagger, when interviewed, had put the Stones in a coffin, but never lowered them into the ground. When rapprochements were reached and offers tendered, he was ready to listen.

"It's the easiest thing in the world to work with the Stones, and for me to work with Mick," Keith says. "Mick and I work together perfectly. It's when we're not working that we have problems." If Steel Wheels does not have the full surprise and thermal energy of a Stones classic like Let It Bleed or Exile on Main Street, at least it holds on to a sense of continuity. No advances maybe, but as another great songwriter put it, no retreat either.