A strange, wild album that would be hailed as a lost masterpiece of 60's psychadelia if it hadn't had the misfortune of being created by a little band called The Rolling Stones.
Thoroughly out of step of the Stones' no-frills, muscular rock and roll, this album chants, wobbles, meanders, loses itself in itself, finds you at the bottom, loses you along the way, and generally takes more chances than anything else the band ever did, before or since. It's messy, enchanting, slippery, lurching in tempo and tone, strangely seamless for all the swerves it takes. It sounds less written than found, and I'm more intrigued by it than any of the (arguably much better) Stones albums I've been listening to lately 4/5
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