When The Angels – and 400,000 others – said Goodbye to Brian Jones.


“His was the driving sitar on ‘Paint It, Black,’ the syncopated marimba on ‘Under My Thumb.’ Brian Jones, progenitor of the Rolling Stones, died 50 years ago today, drowned in his swimming pool not long after frontman Mick Jagger and rhythm guitarist Keith Richards invited him to leave the soon to be self-described — and generally critically accepted — ‘greatest rock ’n’ roll band in the world.’ The bad news from England arrived too late to make it into the July 3rd or 10th issues of the Village Voice, but other Stones tidbits could be found in those editions. It would not be until the issue of the 17th that downtown newspaper readers would get a report from London’s Hyde Park, site of the Stones’ tribute concert for the departed multi-instrumentalist, where they introduced Jones’s replacement — the 20-year-old prodigiously talented lead guitarist Mick Taylor — to the 400,000 fans crowding England’s green and pleasant land. … The World Turned Upside Down By Geoffrey Cannon (July 17, 1969).  LONDON — It’s raining, in London. I walk down the street under an umbrella. I’m singing Joni Mitchell’s ‘I Don’t Know Where I Stand’ to myself. ‘Telephone, even the sound of your voice is still new; all alone in California and talking to you.’ And London is back to normal again, and I’m being a normal Londoner: hunched up, hurrying through the streets from one small room to another, dreaming of scenes utterly distant, making my own California in a space three feet in diameter and six foot six deep: under my umbrella, my little cylinder. Now, one day and 12 hours of rain later, the Rolling Stones’ concert seems a dream, too. It has all the sharpness and disassociation of the stories told in sleep. It wasn’t a bit like the Blind Faith concert. And I think I can tell why, too. Looking over my notes. Mick Jagger sang 13 songs. Thirteen, at Brian Jones’ wake. Counting them, knowing the total would come to 13, I felt a breath of black power chill me. Mick Jagger can make the world turn upside down. He ended the concert with ‘Sympathy for the Devil.’ And here is what happened. A barrel-chested, very black African leaps on stage. He’s naked, except for swathings of dust-colored hair, apparently glued round his torso. …”
Voice


That same Village Voice also included an ad for The Third Eye® Inc, a poster shop that captured the aesthetic spirit of the times.

About 1960s: Days of Rage

Bill Davis - 1960s: Days of Rage
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