Baudelaire may have said that “The finest trick of the devil is to persuade you that he does not exist,” but I think it is just the opposite. The finest trick humanity ever played was persuading itself that the devil was real.
Back in January, Noah Berlatsky posted a list of 18 songs about the devil over on Salon.com. After looking through the list I thought there were some overlooked gems. The most egregious was perhaps obvious, but as far as I’m concerned also the most worthy of inclusion: The Rolling Stones’ “Sympathy for the Devil.” I immediately tweeted at Noah (and I probably wasn’t the only one) about his oversight and we had the following exchange:
Now I can’t speak to why the allusion to the Kennedy killings is so objectionable to Noah (though I am sure he will come by the comments here and enlighten us—at least, I hope he will), but it did make me spend some time thinking about the song some more and what makes it so great.
It is probably deserves mentioning—as I did in my first tweet—I am no huge fan of the Stones. Generally speaking, I can take them or leave them. They have some great songs, no doubt, but I am not enamored of their white-boy blues-man pose, and find Keith Richards to be about as obnoxious a figure in rock n’ roll as there is (his comments on hip hop being particularly irksome). In the old Beatles or Stones binary, I am a Beatles guy. Despite this, I do have something of an obsession with “Sympathy for the Devil” and make it a point of collecting various covers of it. I love the live version by Jane’s Addiction (it takes Perry a while to warm up, but when he does his screech is haunting) and I even own Laibach’s Sympathy for the Devil EP on vinyl, which is nothing but really bizarre covers of the song. Heck, one of my first bands back in college, The Milk Lizards, used to do the song at our shows, so I’ve even sung it a bunch.
From the first lyric, the song does a great job operating in this tension between the personified and the historical. He personifies evil through his voicing of Lucifer, but as the examples of his evil deeds accumulate it becomes clear that every single one of his examples are evils for which human beings, not fallen angels, are responsible. Jesus Christ’s “moment of doubt and pain,” whether it is a reference to Gethsemane or his cry on cross, is his most human. The backing “whooo-whoo” gives the song the feel of a ritualistic chant while questioning the assertions of the singer. Who? Who? Who really is responsible for the events he lists? Who is the devil and what purpose does the idea of a devil even serve? Isn’t he just a convenient excuse for humanity’s corruption, short-sightedness, greed, selfishness and capricious penchant for violence? Doesn’t belief in the devil and his evil implicitly legitimize a network of institutions that put God at their head in opposition to this evil, but actually perpetuate the wars, massacres and murders being enumerated in the song’s lyrics—“kings and queens who fought for 10 decades for the gods they made”?
The idea of making gods is actually quite important to the theme of the song, because while the song claims the name we should be guessing is “Lucifer,” its speaker doesn’t say “I am Lucifer” or “My name is Lucifer,” but rather “Call me Lucifer.” In other words, the name we guess should be our own, but we made up Lucifer instead. Isn’t that the puzzle mentioned in song’s refrain? The inability to turn our gaze upon ourselves, our own institutions for the pain and evil in the world?
Sure, that “our” might be problematic. What do I have to do with “the Blitzkrieg rage” or the overturning of Czars (a thing that I’d argue needed to happen, but nevertheless led to decades more corruption and suffering)? But at the same time, the “I” in the song is metaphorical. It is any “I” informed by ideology or bound by duty to do things like driving a tank into France or going into the Ambassador Hotel to put a few bullets in Bobby Kennedy’s head and back.
Which brings me back to Noah’s objection, which still strikes me as too literal-minded. Our discussion about that one line—“I shouted out, ‘Who Killed the Kennedys?” When after all, it was you and me”—made me think of Ladybird Johnson’s journal entry on the assassination of JFK, and her report on Jackie Kennedy’s response when asked if she wanted to change out of her “dress…stained with blood. One leg was almost entirely covered with it and her right glove was caked, it was caked with blood – her husband’s blood.” Jackie replied “with almost an element of fierceness – if a person that gentle, that dignified, can be said to have such a quality – she said, ‘I want them to see what they have done to Jack.’” Who was this “them” she referring to? Based on the timeline of the day of the assassination this was after Oswald had already been captured, so the use of the plural is weird. I am not trying to plead a case for Kennedy assassination conspiracies, because as fishy as everything surrounding it may be, the ability for 50 years to pass without even one conspirator coming forth or someone in the know providing evidence makes it increasingly likely that Oswald did act alone—no secret can be kept that well for that long. No, I just mean that her accusation resonates with the Stones’ lyric, even if the anguish of the recently widowed undermines the ability to interpret the specificity of her statement in any kind of definitive manner.
Regardless what she might have meant or not meant, I think of Jackie’s exclamation as referring to everyone. You and me. The fact that Jackie probably bought the whole Cold War ideological narrative just reinforces this notion, since she probably felt she lost her husband due to his efforts to protect the little people from the big bad Russians, Cubans and Communists. In other words, “they” were the American people. Who else would feel guilty? Not his actual assassins. Why would they care? Why wouldn’t they feel glee to see Kennedy’s blood on her dress?
I am not making the claim that Jagger and Richards were making a reference to this in their song, but rather the notion that there are broader implication for political assassinations already present in terms of the systems of belief that support those kinds of actions and their global consequences. The whole “Camelot” pretension is bullshit. Americans were outraged at their leader being killed as their leaders worked to kill others. “We” put them there to do that. Evil is what men do. If Malcolm X was right that Kennedy’s killing was “chickens coming home to roost,” then “Sympathy for the Devil” with its Afro-Latin sounds was an attempt to sacrifice one of those chickens and cast some protective blessing or ritualistic warning through pop music.
And sonically, the song delivers just that. It’s fantastic. It feels kind of raw and loose. Not only the ragged “Who-Who” chant, but the halting jagged pecking guitar solo and Jagger’s many affected exclamations of “yeah” introduced with their uncertain “um.” Along with his grunts and cries, it gives the song an uneasiness. The song is frenetic. It builds to a desperate feel without actually getting any faster, cohering around the piano chord changes and the bubbling bass. And yes, the choice of the conga drums, shakers, and the samba rhythm give it that kind of worrisome “voo-doo” feel. I think it was meant to sound primitive and dark to white ears in 1968, but I give it a conditional pass because it works. Jagger sings with a fantastic coaxing menace that matches, if not surpasses, any other performance of the role of the devil—barely contained, but somehow civilized, in way that tanks and kings are signs of civilization. “Sympathy for the Devil” gives us the realest and most affecting devil in pop music, but giving us something to really be scared of—ourselves.
And thus, that’s why if you meet the devil you should “have some courtesy, some sympathy and some taste some taste / Use all your well-learned politesse” because you are meeting the devil every day, and a little sympathy, compassion and politeness can go a long way avoiding the kind of denial of humanity, lack of empathy, that perpetuates evil and makes us all potential devils.
Hey Osvaldo. Since you asked for explication — I find the “we’re all responsible for evil” meme both clichéd and misleading. In regard to the Kennedys, we all didn’t kill either Jack or Bobby; individual whackos killed them for reasons that probably had to do with particular US policies. I think it’s sloppy to equate U.S. policies with all Americans or with all people on earth (as the song appears to do.)
I can enjoy performers posturing as the devil (Slayer’s great), but the particular kind of pompous psuedo-intellectual truth telling (which I guess they get from Dylan probably) is hard to take. I also really don’t like the music, with its calculated layering and the smug “whoo…whooosss.” Basically the whole thing is in an ecstasy of self-regard at its own cleverness, which is not all that clever. And then the Kennedys get dropped in there because a couple of dead bodies near your banal intellectualizing makes you profound.
I think I may hate it even more now.
Enjoyed this post, even not knowing the song! Off to listen to it now….
Fantastic. I didn’t know that moment about Jackie Kennedy– she’s really invoking the Christian Passion narrative, whether she intended it or not. Osvaldo, your description of the song really does it justice. I didn’t grow up with the Stones, or even listen to them on my own time until last year. And that was mostly because they would come up on the Pandora of the wine store I worked at. And whenever that song came on, it was trance like. I haven’t really examined the lyrics until now. Thanks for posting.
I’d have nominated Black Widow’s 1969 singalong, “Come To The Sabbat”.
Good lord; you’ve never heard Sympathy for the Devil, Qiana? Would that I were in such a state of bliss….
Noah, I agree that such a song would be cliched now, but in 1968?
I get not liking the song as personal taste – although you don’t even like the Liabach cover? – but I question the criticism.
As with most devil songs, a key the point is the devil is within ourselves, assassins are “you and me”, i.e. other humans. It’s sloppy to write that it is “sloppy to equate U.S. policies with all Americans or with all people on earth”.
One doesn’t need in-depth analysis to see that’s not what the song is implying at all.
The song isn’t asserting everyone was responsible for supporting the policies which allegedly motivated Sirhan Sirhan and Oswald’s acts. The song is a list of different types of political violence throughout history: by aristocracy (the 100 years war), nations (WW II), the masses (Russian Revolution) and individuals (Kennedy assassinations). The implication being it’s all human, thus everyone is equally capable of doing and thus complicit.
Even in terms of the assassin’s alleged causes (the Cold War and the Arab Israeli conflict) the implication is “you and me” are culpable because such global conflicts involve everyone no matter their participation. In a broader sense, the assassinations did reflect heroic narratives about political violence being embraced by so many factions in the late 60s (and being questioned by a types of pop culture morality plays).
To get more pretentious, the stanza is:
I watched with glee while your kings and queens
Fought for ten decades, for the God they made
I Shouted out “Who killed the Kennedys?”
When after all… it was you and me
“You and me” echoes “kings and queens”, violence belongs to everyone, and “the Kennedys” echos “the god”. It’s allegedly a reference to Nietzsche’s “Who killed god? You and Me.” Not implausible as the first line of the song is a reference to Master and Margarita.
There are many reasons to dislike the song, but it seems overly reductive or even reactionary to take offense at something the song isn’t really saying and, if it was, is in line with this blog overall. HU has often repeatedly examined superhero narratives and political ones, how the mythic thinking of a broader culture can inform rationalizations for actual behavior.
“Noah, I agree that such a song would be cliched now, but in 1968?”
Great point. One thing which bugs me about pop culture criticism is now things we will have flaws considered in full context, such as historical, while thing we don’t have sui generis weaknesses.
Which is not to say there aren’t timeless reasons for disliking the song, but transgressive art often doesn’t age well because it is culturally specific.
That should read: “how things we like will have flaws considered in full context”.
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“Noah, I agree that such a song would be cliched now, but in 1968?”
Yep, still in 1968. It wasn’t that long ago. Existentialist/romantic boasts/complaints about how we’re all there is were certainly of longstanding by that point.
“how the mythic thinking of a broader culture can inform rationalizations for actual behavior.”
I guess; not sure that “mythic thinking” is exactly how I’d phrase my own take on these issues. But I would say that the presentation of violence as universal and attached to everyone is actually one of the kinds of “mythic thinking” that I’d say is the problem. Turning the devil into a universal impulse or human choice of violence doesn’t necessarily make violence human; it makes violence a deity. And you can’t tell me the song isn’t presenting violence as cool and awesome. It’s totally presenting violence as cool and awesome — it’s the devil (whooo! whooo!)
Making everyone complicit in violence is sloppy thinking and effectively abrogates culpability. It sounds like you’re being hard-headed and deep, but really you’re just saying violence is the only option, so let’s all enjoy the fact that we can be hard-headed and deep about it.
I think Nietzsche is fairly repulsive too, honestly, and for similar reasons (that is, there’s a refusal to give nonviolence theoretical weight.)
Like I said, I prefer to turn to metal for my devil worship. It’s a lot more straightforward about its commitments to apocalypse and degradation; none of this hypocritical disavowal.
Not to get all nit-picky here, but we’re NOT told to call the singer Lucifer as such. We’re told to call him that as part of a pattern of reversals: as every cop is a criminal, as all the sinners are saints, and as heads is tails. We’re wasting away again in topsy-turvy-ville here. Surely the implication is that the singer isn’t Lucifer at all, but Lucifer’s opposite, which would be God, not humanity. Call God out for the shit He pulls by calling it devilry, because He’s in need of some restraint. No?
Eric, you know, I almost went in that direction – or at least in one draft I started going down the rabbit hole of the Gnostics and the Demiurge and all that. . . but it is way out of my area of expertise and would have just been mostly quoting Wikipedia. I decided that “the Gods they made” part was sufficient – that is, God, the Devil, whatever we call it, it is us.
If we’re going to wrangle about overplayed bloated poseur rock stars, let’s skip all the inferior (Eric Claption) and more obscure (Nuggets-type) comparisons, and talk about Jim Morrison. Same coffeehouse edginess, same suburban date-rape rage, but man, Jim Morrison was FUNNY. Which I don’t mean as an insult. He was clever enough to say weird things that made him sound like he was actually super-stoned and not just high on Charles Bukowski. And the tinny organ backing just underscored his clown-on-PCP vibe. If there must be a classic rock Satan, I’ll take the Doors any day,
For me, “Sympathy” is all about that solo Osvaldo talks about–the brittle sound of a Les Paul and a really, really loud, glassy, hissy Vox amp. It’s a great example of expressive form. The solo (for me, at least) tells the entire story of the song in miniature. I can hear a lot of Hubert Sumlin in it, some Sister Rosetta Tharpe. It’s like a template for everything Robert Quine would play in the 1970s and 1980s, an extension of what Sister Rosetta played in the 1950s on her SG. There might even be some Magic Sam in there.
Godard’s film, which documents some of the writing and recording of the song, is pretty fascinating. It’s one of the few rock and roll films that captures the boredom of being in a recording studio, but also those moments of inspiration that make the dull routine and anxiety bearable:
http://www.theguardian.com/music/2006/may/21/28
I always assumed the Kennedys line was presenting them as Christ figures who died for our sins. A lot of liberals (like Oliver Stone) see JFK as their fallen savior, which I find pretty contemptible. He was worse than LBJ on civil rights and probably would have been the same on Vietnam, but people idealize him because he was a handsome, charming millionaire who lacked a Southern accent and died young. I guess RFK was a different story by the time of his assassination, but he was pretty rotten as Attorney General.
In case anyone is interested, I once wrote a letter to Dave Sim that prompted him to praise the song and the Kennedys line: http://davesim.blogspot.com/2007/03/dave-sims-blogandmail-197-march-27th.html.
“I always assumed the Kennedys line was presenting them as Christ figures who died for our sins”
I think that’s in there, and, as you say, it’s a reason to sneer at them. JFK was dreadful not just in Vietnam, but in foreign policy more generally: the Bay of Pigs was part of a generally awful, aggressive, incompetent Cuba policy, which led to the Cuban Missile Crisis, which Kennedy also bungled, and would have destroyed the world if it weren’t that Khruschev was relatively reasonable. When you’re more of a reckless asshole than Khruschev, that’s a bad sign.
RFK was not only a crappy attorney general, but helped Joe McCarthy out. The Kennedys were probably less incompetent, pathological and vile than Nixon overall, but that’s more a comment on Nixon than any compliment to them.
I suspect Mick Jagger wouldn’t feel much like singing this song at the moment.
I agree with holdon that the song isn’t saying that the public was responsible for killing the Kennedys but that we all have the capacity for evil. Based on earlier comments threads, I recall Noah being unconvinced by this, so I doubt that this reading would change his opinion of the song.
This song is largely based on the Bulgakov novel “The Master and Margarita”. Interestingly, the line about the Kennedys was changed to reflect the death of Bobby.
The “whoo-woos” were entirely spontaneous and sung by the random people hanging out in the studio, including Keith’s girlfriend Anita Pallenberg. They liked the way it sounded, so they kept it in.
The song is different from virtually every other Stones song in that the piano is the lead instrument and there’s virtually no guitar until the incendiary solo. Keith plays bass.
I personally think it’s great, but I can understand why folks would think it pretentious or even silly. However, this wasn’t really the Dylanesque song on Beggars Banquet. That would be “Jigsaw Puzzle”, which is like a guitar-driven, slower version of Sympathy with the typical Dylan surrealism.
The rest of the album is very much back-to-our-roots kind of music. Especially blues (“No Expectations”, “Prodigal Son”, “Parachute Woman”) and country (“Dear Doctor”, “Factory Girl”). My favorite song is the uber-sleazy “Stray Cat Blues”).
I think the impulse for rock stars to want to be profound geniuses is mostly Dylan’s fault.
That is probably true.
To dismiss this song based on the idea that rock stars “want to be profound geniuses” is specious.
No, no; I’m dismissing the song on a number of grounds, which I’ve discussed in previous comments. In addition, however, it’s pretty clearly an effort on the part of the Stones to be profound geniuses. Sometimes the pretense to profound genius works okay (I like Nabokov and Joyce and Virginia Woolf, and Keats, and on and on.) The point is just that that particular kind of pretension entered rock music through Dylan, for the most part, and I’m pretty sure that’s where the Stones got it from.
I like Sympathy and have argued with Noah about it before. But No Expectations and Factory Girl are both better songs from that album. I tend to like the country-pastiche Stones best (Dead Flowers is another one…and Far Away Eyes…and Wild Horses…and Honky Tonk Women, of course). It is actually hard to believe, Qiana, that you haven’t heard Sympathy. It’s omnipresence is definitely it’s biggest fault. And Jim Morrison is pretty funny.
Joe S. Walker:
I’m confused. I’m sure he sings it all the time. He did on the televised concert the Stones did a while back. It’s probably among the hits the audience demands at practically every show. What am I missing?
Rob, “Stray Cat Blues” is in the top three, possibly top one, best Stones songs ever. As with so many of their songs though, you have to get past the misogynistic lyrics to appreciate it, just as you have to get past the facile, faux-profound lyrics of Sympathy to enjoy the ubercoolness of the music. I don’t understand labeling the woo-woo’s as “smug” but then I scratch my head at most accusations of smugness. Says something about me I suppose.
Matt, Jagger’s girlfriend committed suicide a few days ago.
Oh Jesus.
Okay, so you guys are right. I have heard this song. I didn’t know the title, but I must have heard this is over a dozen movies and tv shows. And that Mercedes commercial…
Jagger always half-heartedly defended the misogyny of his lyrics by noting that his songs were about specific women that he actually encountered and their behavior either toward him or his bandmates. Especially Brian Jones and Bill Wyman, who spent most of their off-stage time trying to get laid while on tour. A lot of the nastier songs were meant to be funny, like “Some Girls”. It’s also one reason why Jagger slurred many of his lyrics; the ones he didn’t like as much he made just kind of mumbled, a trick he picked up from Fats Domino.
Interestingly, the intro to “Stray Cat Blues” was inspired by the VU’s “Heroin.”
I recently saw the remastered 1960s documentary “Charlie Is My Darling”, where the Stones were filmed on and off stage on their tour of Ireland. The performances are excellent, and we get to see genuine crowd rioting at one show. More interesting to me was the off-stage stuff. While Bill and Brian were off with groupies, Mick, Keith and Charlie hung around the hotel room, getting drunk and singing/playing their favorite blues and rock songs in some scenes, and writing new songs on the fly in others (“Sittin’ On A Fence” was the one they were working on).
“Jagger always half-heartedly defended the misogyny of his lyrics by noting that his songs were about specific women that he actually encountered and their behavior either toward him or his bandmates.”
Yep. Hip hop artists attempt to defend their lyrics the same way. Nothing new under the sun.
I can only imagine what those women thought about their behavior. I’d rather not though.
By no means all of Jagger’s lyrics were misogynist: consider ‘She’s a Rainbow’.
No, the Stones have a lot of lyrics I can get into. They also have a lot that are just vile. Those two categories are not mutually exclusive either.
A song about how nice a lady is to look at doesn’t help their case all that much though.
…Even if, or maybe especially if, the lady is a metaphor for some sort of acid-soaked satori.
Many of the lyrics to their nicer songs were penned by Keith, like “Ruby Tuesday”, for instance.
Very thoughtful, Matt and Rob: not at all the expected PC moron who’d dub ‘Ruby Tuesday’ a cruel hymn to gender slavery.
And of course we’ll slot ‘Mother’s little Helper’ into the convenient misogyny file, yes? Never mind the intelligence and lucidity of this pop song. Burn!
As for ‘Sympathy for the Devil’…guess you had to be there.
Really, as far as Noah Berlatsky is concerned, the only real objection is one of taste.
But Noah, I’m sorry —
you really have no taste!
You like Gore films!
You like metal band music:
You like William Marston’s fascist diktat of “loving submission”.
You also love the Haney/Aparo issues of ‘The Brave and the Bold’– what bliss came over you?
Well, whatever it was, it snared me, it’s what drew me to this site.
You can be intelligent and lucid and misogynist at the same time. Amazingly, most things have both good and bad qualities. You do, I do, the Stones do.
“Very thoughtful, Matt and Rob: not at all the expected PC moron who’d dub ‘Ruby Tuesday’ a cruel hymn to gender slavery.”
As usual I don’t understand. You are being ironic?
Yep.
But in a nice way.
I loved ‘Sympathy’ even as a ‘new Christian’ in the early ’80s. It’s rhythm is undeniably cool and relentless, both with percussion, Keith’s flame-thrower guitar licks and that bass. You just can’t help but get sucked in.
Easily one of their most powerful songs, up with Jumpin’ Jack and Satisfaction.
Re: the Kennedy lines, I always thought the devilish part was “shout[ing] out ‘Who killed the Kennedys?'” In contrast to watching watching “with glee”. The devil in the 60s was the pot stirrer, asking questions demanding answers to questions and creating even more chaos, by focusing on bigger, hard to prove conspiracies (both Kennedys not just JFK) that could be sports-like distractions when after all it was still just people who did it.
Thanks for the article. Great to dig deep into something.