“When I was oh so young I used to want to go to Mars,” sings Mick Jagger — that staccato voice still remarkably sharp and clear — on “Foreign Tongues,” the Rolling Stones’ 25th studio album.
“Now I’m older,” the frontman notes, a few lines later. “I would like to ask you if tonight we could stay at home.”
Say what?
Are these the Stones, our perennial bad-boy Brits with yet-full heads of hair, our proud Peter Pans of rock ‘n’ roll, singing about growing old?
But we’ll allow this slight nod to mortality in the tune called “Mr. Charm,” especially because plans for this evening at home DO sound nice — with the promise of cocktails and wine. “You see I’m really quite polite,” the song goes.
Polite is not always the word associated with this 64-year old band — remember the run-ins with various police departments? These days, Jagger, Keith Richards and Ronnie Wood are neither rebels nor degenerates — they’re natty multimillionaires. But they’re cheeky enough to add a jab, in “Mr. Charm,” at “mad mogul Mr. Musk.” A compliment, it is not.
More seriously, the Stones get downright political in one song on the excellent and eminently listenable “Foreign Tongues,” an album that expands on an improbable late burst in creativity launched by the Grammy-winning 2023 “Hackney Diamonds.” That song, “Ringing Hollow,” is at turns biting and depressing, since it chronicles a failing love story between the band and the country they conquered decades ago: the United States.
“Well I was madly in love with you before we ever met,” it goes. “Watched all your movies, smoked your cigarettes.”
But things have changed in current-day America, where “there’s always a scoundrel trying to whip up the crowd” (no current leaders are mentioned by name). “Lady Liberty don’t look so good when she’s wearing a frown.”
We’ll tell you what DOES look, or rather sound, good — Jagger’s voice. How has it stayed this potent, as he turns 83? We’ll have what he’s having, as they say. In “Jealous Lover,” a breakup song, he even flexes a fierce falsetto, à la “Emotional Rescue.” Richards, unsurprisingly, matches that potency on guitar, and also delivers a truly poignant lead vocal turn in “Some of Us,” about a lover who keeps him on his toes —- or actually, on his knees. (“Some of us are on our knees, begging, baby.”) As for Wood, listen to Jagger call out “C’mon Ronnie!” as the guitarist digs into a searing solo on “Back in Your Life.”
The album is strikingly consistent, with no true clunker in the bunch, though some tunes are more memorable than others. And as with “Hackney Diamonds,” there’s an enviable guest contingent: Bruno Mars plays cowbell on “Never Wanna Lose You,” and Paul McCartney guests on bass in “Covered in You.” (Paul also dropped by on the last album. Is this a regular visit that might extend one day to the concert stage? Maybe?) Steve Winwood has organ duties and The Cure’s Robert Smith contributes on guitar and backup vocals.
The most poignant “guest” of all is hardly a guest — the late, great Charlie Watts appears on “Hit Me in the Head,” his track recorded in Los Angeles before the iconic drummer’s 2021 death at age 80. It’s hard not to feel the goosebumps when you hear him get started. (Elsewhere, Steve Jordan is on drums.)
Some songs seem ready for the next arena set, if there’s room among the classics (a big “if.”) Like the rocking “Divine Intervention,” or maybe “Rough and Twisted,” which opens the album with a bluesy growl: “Why don’t you drive me, down that rough and twisted road? Why don’t you guide me, ’cause I don’t know which way to go.”
But of course, the band DOES seem to know which way to go — especially under expert guidance from Andrew Watt, who also produced “Hackney.”
Most of the songs, as usual, are by Jagger and Richards, but there’s also a fine cover of Amy Winehouse’s “You Know I’m No Good,” with Jagger doing double duty on vocals and harmonica.
And the album ends on a cover of Chuck Berry’s “Beautiful Delilah.” Like the final, Muddy Waters track on “Hackney,” it feels like a loving nod to a seminal moment on a train platform.
We’re talking, of course, about that 1961 meeting between teenagers named Keith and Mick, a bunch of blues albums tucked under the arm of the future frontman — a moment that launched one of the great partnerships in the history of rock. It’s still, improbably, rocking. And creating.
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