Marty Scorsese may love the song (Goodfellas, Casino, Departed), but this one's for Amanda today.
Stranded on The Island, unable to return to her home in The City, this girl is on her knees in the rainstorm pleading for someone to, "gimme shelter." Fortunately, she's got parents with a house. But a house ain't home, and home is where she longs to be. Dramatic and fitting, the song was her request and is an apparent favorite often heard during the "cool down" period of her running mix.
Normally, requests aren't fielded. Not that there are any. But hey, this is the Stones. Some may consider this song "popcorn" (a phrase taken from a very lovable baroom character we'll call "Cannon"), but I still enjoy it. It's the ultimate Mick-Richards collaboration. A song truly created by the two of them. It's also my Uncle Louie's favorite Stones song, or was at one point. Oddly enough, I remember things like that.
I get why Marty uses it so much in his films too. His gangster flicks at least. To me, it's the kind of song you want the jukebox to be playing when you walk into the pub with a couple of your boys, and slowly make your way to that familiar spot at the end of the bar. The bartender sees's you come in, gives you a nod, and parallels your walk behind the bar to greet you with a sarcastic remark and a beer you don't pay for. Ideally, it all happens in slow motion.
The song itself is apocalyptic, and that's why I love it. The music is big, the message is big. It's the Stones at their finest. I grew up to this song, and by college it became that quintessential "get off yer ass and start drinking" anthem. If it was dare played towards the end of the night, something was going to break.
But as much as it's a Rolling Stones song, it's Merry Clayton that seals the deal. The emotional delivery of her parts on this song are unbelievable. A New Orleans native, she was recording as early as fourteen with the likes of Bobby Darin, Ray Charles, and Burt Bacharat. She was also one of the backup singers on Joe Cocker's version of "Feelin' Alright." But this song would be what she was remembered for, and probably the song she most remembered.
She perfectly screams the most intense parts of the song:
"Rape, murder, it's just a shot away, its just a shot away"
You can hear the intensity. Sometimes when I listen to it alone and on Max Volume, I can feel it. Then I read this:
http://articles.latimes.com/1986-03-13/entertainment/ca-19857_1_career-clayton
She had a miscarriage when she returned home from the recording session. They say the strain of hitting and holding some of those higher notes could have been to blame. Tragic, yes. But it's nobody's fault. She had a job to do, one that she'd been doing very well for quite some time. How was she to know?
Quite a tale, I know. Maybe not so uplifting, but it's real. She's made her peace with it, and it's another one of those crazy stories behind the music.
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