Easy it may be to say The Rolling Stones should have returned to their blues rock roots on Undercover, but when they did, it didn’t sound all that great anyway. Mick Jagger’s desire to remain a pop figurehead wins out on this album, their follow-up to Tattoo You and their first collection of new material in the 1980s. Disaster is putting it nicely. Jagger sounds ready to ditch what had worked for the band throughout the 1970s for a sound which was topping the charts. Keith Richards plays along with it but his clear desire to return to those 1960s roots, the blues which defined the band on Aftermath, and the complexity found in simple arrangements, is deafening. Neither goal was correct for The Rolling Stones. Retreading what they had already done would have made the band a nostalgia act. But chasing the new sound so relentlessly ditches the decades of work the group had put into making one of rock and roll’s best bands. Undercover is a mess, but there are some enjoyable moments throughout.
Compared to the stagnation the band is still offering, Undercover is at least a risk of their principles. Jagger is of the firm belief that these new wave tones can offer the band a new audience and a fresh sound. Pursuing that is at least interesting. The title track is a tremendous start. Richards is given free rein to rock out with some tight and welcome guitar solos spread across it while Jagger keeps that fine line between vague lyricism and faux pop spontaneity. His work is the weak link. Ironic given Jagger is the one pushing for these changes. The band plays along well but Jagger struggles to evolve his lyrical choices beyond toothless sexualisation and romping new wave rot. She Was Hot is a half-hearted, lazy piece which seems more like an excuse for Jagger to start panting through the track than anything. He fails to give the song a worthy lyrical run as Richards and the rest play up some strong instrumentals.
The Rolling Stones are always great rockers, and the sound they create, despite Jagger’s desire for a pop-friendly sound, is solid. Charlie Watts and Bill Wyman’s rhythm work are lost in the mix a little, but Richards and Ronnie Wood are in solid form. Tie You Up (The Pain of Love) is a tremendous example of what The Rolling Stones still do. Underwhelming rock efforts which are listenable, but a far cry from the hits. Aimless at the best of times, Undercover is not far off what the band are still doing with releases seen as returns to form. Steel Wheels is on the same level of contemptible yet forgettable as this, as is Hackney Diamonds. Repeatable stylings under the guise of a new genre direction. Jagger and the band throw a handful of guest musicians into the studio, but it makes little, if any, difference. Wanna Hold You still sounds like a dated throwaway which appeases Richards’ blues rock want while also catering to a low point for his writing.
Richards once described Wanna Hold You as a Linda and Paul McCartney-like track. If he means domesticity without the bliss and with the rudderless feeling Undercover inspires, then what a hit. It’s a stretch better than the reggae influences of Feel on Baby. All those A-side pieces are classics compared to the shallow waters of Undercover’s B-side. Embarrassing lows like Too Much Blood are beyond the pale. Jagger single-handedly strips the band of their identity and purpose as he carves out a splintered seat in the halls of pop music. One of their laziest pieces of work to date. The band had lost their edge years before, and the likes of All the Way Down and It Must Be Hell are death sentences which confirm what so many heartbroken listeners knew, yet stuck around for, like Stockholm syndrome-afflicted bank heist hostages. On delivery, Undercover is a tragedy. An absurd album, a still unlistenable wreck where the title track salvages what it can.
