Rock and roll is supposed to be simple. Or, at least, that’s what Mick Jagger and Keith Richards wanted you to believe back in 1974 when they dropped It’s Only Rock 'n Roll. It was a weird time for the band. Brian Jones was long gone, Mick Taylor was about to pack his bags, and the glitter of the early seventies was starting to feel a bit like a hangover. The album—and specifically that title track—was basically a shrug. A loud, distorted, multimillion-dollar shrug.
People forget that by 1974, the Rolling Stones were being treated like politicians or prophets. Every lyric was dissected. Every guitar tone was a manifesto. Jagger was getting tired of it. He famously wrote "It's Only Rock 'n Roll (But I Like It)" as a response to the critics and the hangers-on who were overthinking the whole thing. It was a plea for everyone to just shut up and dance, but of course, because it's the Stones, it became one of the most analyzed pieces of music in history.
The Secret Ingredient: Ronnie Wood Before He Was a Stone
Most fans assume the core "It's Only Rock 'n Roll" track is a standard Jagger-Richards production. It isn't. Not really. The song actually started in a basement at Ronnie Wood’s house, "The Wick," in Richmond. At the time, Ronnie was still in the Faces. He wasn't even a member of the Stones yet.
Keith Richards wasn't even there for the initial session.
The original lineup on that specific recording included David Bowie on backing vocals, Willie Weeks on bass, and Kenney Jones on drums. It was a chaotic, loose jam. When Jagger realized he had a hit on his hands, he took the tapes, brought in Keith to layer some guitars, and swapped out some of the parts. However, the "essence" of the song—that bouncy, almost reckless swing—came from Ronnie. It’s arguably the reason he ended up in the band a year later. He had the DNA. He understood that the Stones weren't a precision machine; they were a groove.
Why the Critics Hated It (And Why They Were Wrong)
When the album It's Only Rock 'n Roll came out, the reviews weren't all sunshine and roses. Far from it. Rolling Stone magazine (the publication, not the band) was notoriously lukewarm. Lester Bangs, the legendary rock critic known for his chaotic honesty, wasn't exactly throwing a parade for it.
The consensus among the "serious" music press was that the Stones were coasting. They’d just finished a run of four albums—Beggars Banquet, Let It Bleed, Sticky Fingers, and Exile on Main St.—that basically defined the genre. How do you follow Exile? You don't. You can't. So they didn't try to.
They leaned into the "entertainment" side of the business.
The title track was a defense mechanism. By shouting "It's only rock and roll," Jagger was lowering the stakes. If the song wasn't a masterpiece, hey, the title told you so! It was a brilliant bit of branding. It allowed them to survive the transition from the revolutionary sixties into the decadent, stadium-filling seventies.
The Mick Taylor Departure: The End of Virtuosity?
We have to talk about Mick Taylor. He’s the "forgotten" Stone to casual listeners, but to guitar nerds, he’s the god of the "Golden Age." His playing on It's Only Rock 'n Roll is technically brilliant but feels... detached. You can hear him checking out.
Taylor was a blues virtuoso. He wanted to jam, to explore complex scales, and to push the musicality of the band. Jagger and Richards? They wanted hooks. They wanted "It's Only Rock 'n Roll."
There’s a tension on the album, specifically on tracks like "Time Waits for No One." Taylor’s solo on that song is arguably the best thing he ever recorded with the band. It’s soaring, melodic, and heartbreaking. And it’s totally out of place on a "back to basics" rock album. Shortly after the album’s release, Taylor quit. He felt he wasn't getting songwriting credits he deserved, and he was tired of the drug-fueled chaos. His exit marked the end of the Stones as a "musician's band" and the beginning of their era as a "rock 'n roll circus."
The Music Video and the Bubbles
If you want to understand the 1970s, just watch the music video for the title track. It was directed by Michael Lindsay-Hogg. The band is dressed in sailor suits. Why? No one knows. They are inside a giant tent that slowly fills with soap bubbles.
It was a nightmare to film.
The bubbles were created by detergent, which started to sting the band's eyes. Charlie Watts, the most dignified man in rock, was nearly buried in foam. Keith Richards was reportedly terrified his guitar would short out and electrocute him. By the end of the shoot, they were literally struggling to breathe under three feet of suds.
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It’s ridiculous. It’s campy. It’s "only" rock and roll.
But it was also one of the first "concept" videos that really landed. It showed that the Stones understood the coming MTV era before it even existed. They knew that the image—the spectacle—was becoming just as important as the riff.
The Production Gap: Glimmer Twins Take the Lead
This was the first album the Stones produced themselves under the pseudonym "The Glimmer Twins." Previously, they had Jimmy Miller, the producer who helped them craft their dark, swampy sound from 1968 to 1973.
The shift is obvious.
The sound is thinner. It's punchier. It’s got more glitter and less grit. Some fans hate it. They miss the murky, dangerous vibe of Exile on Main St. But if you listen to "If You Can't Rock Me," the opening track, there’s an energy there that sounds like a band trying to prove they still have a pulse. It’s the sound of survival.
They weren't trying to be the "Greatest Rock and Roll Band in the World" anymore; they were just trying to be a band that could fill an arena.
Semantic Variations: What Does "It" Actually Mean?
When we talk about It's Only Rock 'n Roll, we aren't just talking about ten songs on a vinyl record. We’re talking about a philosophy.
In 2026, music is everywhere. It’s in TikTok clips, AI-generated playlists, and background noise for workout videos. The phrase "it's only rock and roll" has become a way to dismiss the self-importance of the industry. It’s the ultimate "don't take me too seriously" card.
- The Musical Context: The 1974 album.
- The Cultural Context: The shift from 60s idealism to 70s hedonism.
- The Personal Context: Jagger’s exhaustion with fame.
Honestly, the song is a bit of a lie. If it were "only" rock and roll, Jagger wouldn't have spent fifty years obsessing over the stage design of his tours. He cares deeply. But the pretense of not caring is the coolest thing about it.
The Tracklist: A Mixed Bag of Genius and Filler
Let’s be real. Not every song on the album is a winner. "Short and Curly" is... fine. "Fingerprint File" is a weird, funky attempt at social commentary that actually aged surprisingly well, given its themes of government surveillance.
But "Luxury" and "Dance Little Sister" are pure filler.
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That’s the beauty of the record, though. It doesn't have the heavy, monolithic feel of a "masterpiece." It feels like a Friday night. Some parts are great, some parts are messy, and you probably won't remember all of it in the morning.
The standout, besides the title track, is their cover of "Ain't Too Proud to Beg." It’s a Motown classic, but they "Stonify" it. They make it dirtier. They make it desperate. It’s a reminder that the Stones were always, at their heart, a rhythm and blues band that got sidetracked by fame.
Practical Insights for the Modern Listener
If you’re diving into this era of the Stones for the first time, don't expect the polished perfection of Bridges to Babylon or the raw danger of Let It Bleed.
Approach It's Only Rock 'n Roll as a transition.
Listen to the interplay between the guitars. This was the birth of the "weaving" style that Keith Richards and Ronnie Wood would eventually perfect. It’s not about lead and rhythm; it’s about two guitars finishing each other’s sentences.
If you're a guitar player, pay attention to the tuning. Keith is in his classic Open G, but the way it interacts with the standard tuning of the other instruments on this record is particularly "jangly."
Also, check out the credits. You'll see names like Billy Preston and Ian Stewart. These guys were the "secret" Stones. They provided the soul and the boogie-woogie piano that kept the songs from floating away into pure pop.
The Legacy: 50 Years Later
Is it their best album? No.
Is it their most important? Maybe.
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It’s the album where the Stones decided to stay. They could have broken up. They could have faded into the "oldies" circuit. Instead, they leaned into the spectacle. They accepted that they were "only" rock and roll stars, and in doing so, they became immortal.
The next time you hear that opening riff—that "dun-dun, DA-NA"—don't think about the charts or the critics. Think about a band in a basement in Richmond, covered in bubbles, laughing at the idea that any of this was supposed to matter.
Next Steps for the Deep Diver:
- Listen to the "Brussels Affair" live recordings from 1973 to hear how these songs sounded when the band was at their absolute peak of live performance.
- Compare the title track to Ronnie Wood’s solo version on I've Got My Own Album to Do. You’ll hear exactly what Jagger added—and what he took away.
- Track down the original 1974 vinyl if you can; the analog mix has a warmth that the digital remasters often strip away in favor of "clarity" that the album never actually had.