More often than not people will comment that what The Rolling Stones lacked in sophistication they made up for with balls. I think that is a tragic understatement; the Stones were all balls, but their balls were Lord fucking Byron. The Stones grease through so many styles of music in the course of two sides of vinyl the excess they leave in their wake become other bands whole sound. Goats Head Soup is an incredibly rewarding example of that craftsmanship. But even in Rolling Stone Magazine’s original review of this record there’s almost more ink about Exile and Sticky Fingers than about the excellent material on Goats Head Soup. Some have said they were entering a slump with this record, and subsequent records may prove that right, but it sounds more like their ending to a no- hitter to me. From the opener ‘Dancing with Mr. D’ it’s pretty easy to tell what this album is about and its texture. Bury Mick in the back of the mix and pan those guitars these guys are out to set one bad ass mood. They succeed and rock with vulgar class. Yet the orchestration and horn arrangements on this record are insane, for real get a load of ‘Doo Doo Doo Doo Doo..’s’ almost contrapuntal overlapping horn and fuzz guitar lines, they are a work of beauty.The Stones careen through sleaze and fuzz into R&B and ballads, they boil down the majesty of Exile into hor d’oevres. The result is a fantastic if relatively under-appreciated record. Total classic.