The Rolling Stones, "Get Yer Ya-Ya's Out"
Don is a Newbury Street Fighting Man
Don’s Pitch:
Growing up, my two favorite bands were The Beatles and The Rolling Stones. Really went out on a limb there. But how could a child of 1970 not be touched by their genius? After all, no two bands better repackaged American Rock & Roll than those friendly rivals. And no groups have had a more indelible influence on the artists who emerged from my generation.
But during the 1960s, even though their managers pitted the two bands’ brands against one another, there was no comparison. Famously, Paul & John gifted their cutting-room floor track – “I Wanna Be Your Man” - to Mick & Keith, becoming The Stones’ first hit. For the rest of the decade, The Glimmer Twins chased The Fab Four. After George Harrison introduced the sitar to pop music on Rubber Soul, Brian Jones mimicked him on “Paint It Black.” Sgt. Pepper begat Their Satanic Majesties. Let It Bleed was recorded just months after Let It Be.
The Rolling Stones couldn’t escape The Beatles shadow. They were the shadow.
But by the time Let It Bleed was released on November 28, 1969, The Beatles had secretly broken up. The Stones were probably among the few in the know. Coincidentally, *the same day*, they took the stage at Madison Square Garden and recorded most of Get Your Ya-Ya’s Out! It was their coming out party.
Released in 1970, Ya-Ya’s stands as one of the greatest live albums of all time. The record distills The Stones’ swaggering essence as they transitioned from their blues roots into the architects of arena/stadium rock. It was a seismic shift in rock history.
One of the most significant elements of Ya-Ya’s is guitarist Mick Taylor’s arrival. We hear his remarkable interplay with Richards for the first time (his full-album debut – Sticky Fingers - was still being recorded), especially on tracks like “Midnight Rambler” and “Sympathy for the Devil.” While Richards delivers his signature rhythmic punch, Taylor’s melodic leads and blues-drenched phrasing added depth and contrast. This dual-guitar dynamic created a sonic synergy that would define the band’s golden era.
The album’s sound is both gritty and immediate. This authenticity is crucial. Ya-Ya’s doesn’t feel polished. “Jumpin’ Jack Flash” and “Street Fighting Man” are still fresh with urgency, while “Stray Cat Blues” menacingly slinks along. Even the crowd noise and Jagger’s stage banter contribute to the record’s visceral charm.
This period was transformative for The Stones. In 1969, they were grappling with their identity in the wake of The Beatles’ retreat. The ’69 tour, and Ya-Ya’s as its loud souvenir, proved they were more than survivors. They finally got what they wanted: the mantle of being the World’s Greatest Rock and Roll Band (TM).
Ultimately, Get Yer Ya-Ya’s Out! is a snapshot of a legendary band seizing its moment, redefining live rock, and setting a new standard for what a concert record could be.
Mitch’s Response:
Get Yer Ya-Ya’s Out is perhaps the most perfectly named live album in music history.
As you probably know, “Ya Ya” is an affectionate term among Greek people for Grandma, and you’d definitely have to be someone’s Grandma (or Great-Grandma, more realistically) to get any enjoyment out of this incredibly ancient-sounding record.
When I say this album is “ancient-sounding,” I’m not even commenting on the abysmal recording quality, which sounds like Thomas Edison busted out the old phonograph cylinder and set it up in a bathroom across the street from the venue during a tornado.
Nope, it’s the music that sounds positively ancient throughout this record. Somehow the Stones manage to combine the two things that I hate most about early rock: basic blues and Chuck Berry. They even commit the cardinal sin of delivering the dreaded “Double Berry” - the stuff of nightmares for any Grateful Dead fan (RIP “36 from the Vault” pod).
This whole album is Greek to me, but at least I finally understand why Mick Jagger shouts all of his vocals - Grandma’s hearing isn’t quite what it used to be.
Alas, my Grandma taught me to say something nice, so I’d like to compliment Bill Wyman’s bass playing. I’ve never thought much about Wyman’s bass playing in the past, but he’s the standout performer throughout this set, even if he would never, ever date anyone as old as a Grandma.
Pitch Failed (this soup isn’t hot enough)
CJ’s Response:
“Woof-woof! Arf!”
What’s that, Lassie? Mick and Keith are in trouble?
“Arf-Arf! Row-woof!”
They’re trapped in a well with Bill, Charlie and other Mick?
“Bow-woof! Arf-arf!”
Oh, they sound like they’re trapped in a well?
“Arf.”
Well, no shit, Lassie. Get Yer Ya-Yas Out! sounds like the entire band was smothered with a giant pillow and filtered through the Sony boombox that I got for my birthday in 1981. Hey, weren’t you supposed to be watching Timmy?
(Lassie shrugs and walks away.)
Universal truths are dangerous things. When everybody accepts something as gospel, nobody ever examines it closely again. Ya-Yas is one of the greatest live albums of all time. Everybody says so. Your big brother. Your cool aunt. Lester Bangs. Why? Because it just is.
Certainly there are two songs on here that are the best versions of themselves. I first heard the nine-minute “Midnight Rambler” when I was driving late at night on a pitch black road in Maine. Alone. Halfway through the song I was convinced that someone was in the back seat waiting for the right moment to slit my throat. Point-Mick and Keith.
“Sympathy for the Devil” with its unintentional crowd-sourced “Paint it black, you devil!” intro also delivers on the promise of evil. If Satan himself had popped up on stage to share the mic, Miami Steve-style, with Mick, I would not have been surprised.
But the rest of the album is uneven at best.
I don’t despise the Chuck Berry stuff as much as Mitch does, but I don’t love it either. And the standards just don’t get me there. “Jumpin’ Jack Flash” sounds like the band wasn’t quite ready to go on. “Street Fighting Man” can generously be said to ebb and flow. And the canonic “Honky Tonk Women” just plods.
Funny thing about universal truths. They don’t always play in everyone’s universe.
Pitch Failed (I’m sure Timmy is okay.)
Ken’s Response:
The Rolling Stones always make me feel nostalgic. I learned to love them in a friend’s barn-turned-workshop, listening to England’s Newest Hit Makers, Green Grass and High Tides, and Tattoo You. I know, an odd mix. His dad was a fairly well-known clockmaker, and people sent him these intricate, high-end antique clocks to repair. The guy was eccentric but incredibly meticulous. Every tiny gear and spring was laid out with precision. Their house was fine, but the workshop? It was something else.
We’d spend hours out there after dark, cranking up the old turntable and semi-new Kenwood speakers, letting the music take over.
This week, I revisited Get Yer Ya-Ya’s Out, something I probably haven’t done since those mid-’80s days, and two things immediately stood out. First, the sound quality is rough. So rough, I actually got visibly annoyed during “Jumpin’ Jack Flash”… and that’s the opening track. Second, where is Mick Taylor? The best musician the Stones ever had, and yet he’s almost invisible here. I had to Google the personnel just to confirm he was even on it. Aside from a few decent licks on “Sympathy for the Devil,” his presence is frustratingly minimal.
The lone standout section? “Under My Thumb” straight into “I’m Free.” That stretch is tight. Well done, gents. I just wish I could say the same for the rest.
The album, overall, sounds like a solid high school garage band. The setlist is hit or miss, and poor Mick Taylor feels like he’s being kept on a leash.
Maybe the Stones—and the sound crew—could’ve taken a page from that old clockmaker’s playbook: more attention to detail, less noise for the sake of it.
Pitch Failed (Turn the other Mick up. Turn Mick down)
Don’s pitch was unsuccessful and The Rolling Stones’ Get Yer Ya-Ya’s Out has been tossed out of the Newbury St. collection (although The Stones have previously been enshrined for Exile on Main St.) What’s your take on this iconic live set? Please let us know in the comments.
Please join us next week as CJ gives the people what they want with a dive into The Kinks’ 1980 live release One for the Road.
Apologies for my EONS brethren. They approved a horrid Tesla album, rubber-stamped a limp Eric Clapton record, and dissed an indisputably great Stones live LP. Imagine having to endure our text chain.
In about 30 years, someone will buy an iPhone at a flea market and start going through it. It'll turn out to have once belonged to that obnoxious person who held their phone up and recorded a whole show from like, the 8th row.
And it will sound like this record.