Mick Jagger / Keith Richards / 6:19
Musicians
Mick Jagger: vocals, maracas (?)
Keith Richards: lead guitar, bass, backing vocals
Brian Jones: acoustic guitar (?), backing vocals
Bill Wyman: shekere, backing vocals
Charlie Watts: drums, backing vocals
Nicky Hopkins: piano, backing vocals
Rocky Dijon: congas, cowbell (?)
Anita Pallenberg, Marianne Faithfull, Suki Potier, Glyn Johns: backing vocals
Recorded
Olympic Sound Studios, London: June 4–10, 1968
Technical Team
Producer: Jimmy Miller
Sound engineer: Glyn Johns
Assistant sound engineer: Phill Brown
Did Mick Jagger’s inspiration for “Sympathy for the Devil” really come from Baudelaire or some other French writer, as he implied in an interview with Rolling Stone19 in 1995? It seems more likely that he wrote the lyrics to the song after having read The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov (apparently at the instigation of Marianne Faithfull). In this novel, which went through four different versions prior to its publication in Western Europe in 1966, the great Russian writer skillfully blends fantasy and social satire. In turn inspired by Goethe’s Faust, Bulgakov compares the life of Christ to that of an artist in Soviet Russia, against the backdrop of arbitrary arrest and internment in psychiatric hospitals.
There are two big ideas in Bulgakov’s novel that recur in the words of the song (which was initially titled “The Devil Is My Name”): the reversal of values and the confusion of reality and appearance. The devil is presented as a man of taste, whereas every cop is a criminal and all the sinners saints. Christ himself is remembered for his pain but also for his moments of doubt. “My God, my God, wherefore hast thou forsaken me?” one can almost hear him crying.
Has evil triumphed over good? This is what Mick Jagger seems to be saying. The almost apocalyptic picture he paints of civilization is no mere fantasy, however. Having described the torments of Christ, he turns the spotlight on the twentieth century: the October Revolution, the assassination of the Tsar and his ministers, the Second World War, and finally the sixties and the assassination of the Kennedy brothers. The message is bleak, even terrifying: evil was the victor at Armageddon. Evil is Lenin and the Bolsheviks, who massacred without restraint, it is National Socialism, it is those who had John F. Kennedy assassinated in 1963, followed by his brother Robert five years later. In this respect, the message of “Sympathy for the Devil” hardly differs from that of “Jumpin’ Jack Flash”: the ideal of peace and love and the spirit of “All You Need Is Love” is dead almost before it has lived; the reality of the sixties is the Vietnam War, it is the Prague Spring crushed by Warsaw Pact troops, it is violence—everywhere. The same message is found here, then, but expressed with a Dylanesque poetic verve. “Mick wrote it almost as a Dylan song,”11 Keith would later say. In this regard, one phrase in the fourth verse is heavy with meaning: And I laid traps for troubadours who get killed before they reached Bombay: this is apparently a reference to the hippies for whom the road to India was littered with hazards and dramas.
“The first time I ever heard the song was when Mick was playing it at the front door of a house I lived in in Sussex. It was at dinner; he played it entirely on his own, the sun was going down—and it was fantastic,”9 recalls Charlie Watts. For Mick did not just write the lyrics of this song, he also wrote the music. Keith would merely help him to find the right rhythm: “I was just trying to figure out whether it should be a samba or a goddam folk song.”9 For his very avant-garde full-length movie Sympathy for the Devil, Jean-Luc Godard filmed the Rolling Stones at Olympic Studios. Thanks to the cameras of the master of New Wave cinema, it is possible to witness the spectacular development of the number from a simple folk song, through several transformations, to rock ’n’ roll samba—a kind of black mass à la Jagger-Richards. Godard’s movie is a unique document in the sense that it allows for a better understanding of the work of the Stones in the studio, in particular their way of capturing the quintessence of a song, in this case “Sympathy for the Devil.” “The thing with a good band is not to put them in a studio and say ‘It goes like this,’” explains Keith. “Put them in there and see what they come up with.”34 Sympathy for the Devil affords an insight into the division of roles among the various musicians. Mick provides the vocals, and, keen to communicate effectively with everyone, uses diplomacy to make himself understood; Keith, the de facto bandleader, instills his ideas in his troops with some subtlety and is constantly on the lookout for ways of achieving his objectives; Bill, more taciturn than ever, seems to submit to the wishes of the Glimmer Twins out of weariness; Charlie, barely any more cheerful than Bill, and totally impassive, does what is asked of him to the letter; Brian, isolated by three acoustic panels, seems miserable and alone as he applies himself to his guitar; finally, Nicky, no more jovial than the others, repeats his organ part tirelessly, without batting an eyelid. The atmosphere is not one of schoolboy tomfoolery; it is serious, with everyone doing his best to contribute to the creation of the song. And this atmosphere is not exactly helped by the presence of Godard, with his somewhat inscrutable character. But Jimmy Miller sees to it that magic is made. Little by little, the definitive version of “Sympathy for the Devil,” without doubt one of the Rolling Stones’ most important songs, emerges.
Charlie leads in on his Ludwig kit: “… I just played a jazz Latin feel in the style that Kenny Clarke would have played on “A Night In Tunisia”—not the actual rhythm he played, but the same styling.”9 Bill accompanies him on a shekere, an African percussion instrument similar to the maracas, and Rocky Dijon plays an excellent conga part, without a doubt one of the defining tones on the track. Other maracas join the ensemble, and Mick emits a number of shrieks boosted by delay. Before the start of the first verse, female voices (Anita and Marianne?) can be heard laughing and talking. Keith then comes in on his Fender Precision bass plugged into Bill’s Vox Foundation amp. His immaculate playing is accompanied by the piano of the outstanding Nicky Hopkins. In Godard’s film, Brian can be seen playing his new Gibson acoustic, the famous J-200, but there is no escaping the fact that his guitar has been either suppressed from the mix or else recessed far behind the other instruments. Keith plays some very good solo phrases on his Les Paul Black Beauty. From around 3:29, another percussion instrument can be heard, probably a cowbell played by Rocky Dijon. Another characteristic feature of “Sympathy for the Devil” is its famous backing vocals (most likely Jimmy Miller’s idea), the repeated woo woos sung from 1:56 by Anita Pallenberg, Marianne Faithfull, Suki Potier (Brian’s new girlfriend), Glyn, Keith, Brian, Bill, Nicky, and Charlie, who nevertheless seems to have vowed not to unclench his teeth for a single moment. Finally, Mick, performing one of his best songs, is simply outstanding. His talent lights up the whole band. As the opening number of Beggars Banquet, “Sympathy for the Devil” augurs an exceptional album. And that proves to be the case.