Rolling Stone Images of Rock & Roll

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Rolling Stone Images of Rock & Roll

Postby admin » Sat Dec 15, 2018 1:13 am

Rolling Stone Images of Rock & Roll
Edited and Designed by Fred Woodward
Text by Anthony DeCurtis
© 1995 Rolling Stone Press




Table of Contents:

• Introduction
• The Look
• Sid Vicious's Version of Punk
• Photographers
• Clothes and Props
• Videos
• Hip Trappings of Success
• Buddy Holly
• Images
• Once an Artist ...
• In Portraits ...
• Celebrities
• Images of Rock & Roll
1. Johnny Cash (Jim Marshall, 1969)
2. Muddy Waters (Terry Cryer, 1958)
3. Marianne Faithfull (Gered Mankowitz, 1965)
4. Elvis Presley (Photographer Unknown, 1957)
5. Stu Sutcliffe and Paul McCartney (Astrid Kirchherr, 1961)
6. John Lennon (Astrid Kirchherr, 1962)
7. Yoko Ono (Annie Leibovitz, 1981)
8. Robert Plant; Jimmy Page (Herb Greene, 1969)
9. Eric Clapton; Steve Winwood (David Gahr, 1969)
10. Ike and Tina Turner (Dennis Hopper, 1966)
11. James Taylor (Norman Seeff, 1969)
12. Carly Simon (Norman Seeff, 1975)
13. Sid Vicious and Nancy Spungen (Photographer unknown, 1977)
14. Lou Reed (Andrew Kent, circa 1974)
15. Johnny Winter (Norman Seeff, 1970)
16. Janet Jackson (Yuru Elizondo, 1993)
17. Michael Jackson (Claude Gassian, 1984)
18. Elvis Presley (Bob Moreland, circa 1955)
19. K.D. Lang (Stephen Danelian, 1992)
20. Ray Charles (Jim Marshall, 1960)
21. Lightnin' Hopkins (Jean Pierre LeLoir, circa 1962)
22. Jim Morrison (Alan Ronay, 1971)
23. Snoop Doggy Dogg (Dan Winters, 1993)
24. Mississippi Fred McDowell (Baron Wolman, 1969)
25. B.B. King (The Hooks Brothers, 1949)
26. Flavor Flav (Jesse Frohman, 1992)
27. Aretha Franklin and Cholly Atkins (Photographer unknown, 1961)
28. Jackie Wilson (Photographer unknown, circa 1958)
29. Madonna (Peter Lindbergh, 1994)
30. Elvis Presley (Jean Cummings, 1956)
31. Jerry Lee Lewis (Photographer unknown, circa 1965)
32. Elton John (Barry Wentzell, 1973)
33. Paul Weller; Pete Townshend (Pennie Smith, 1978; 1982)
34. Patti Smith (Bill King, 1975)
35. Chubby Checker (Bill Ray, 1959)
36. Bill Haley and His Comets (Mickey Pallas, 1956)
37. Eddie Vedder (Chris Cuffaro, 1991)
38. Sam and Dave (Photographer unknown, circa 1967)
39. Van Morrison (Photographer unknown, circa 1967)
40. Howlin' Wolf (David Gahr, 1966)
41. Talking Heads (Godlis, 1977)
42. Stevie Wonder (Popsie Randolph, 1963)
43. Brenda Lee (Photographer unknown, 1960)
44. Iggy Pop (Claude Gassian, 1977)
45. Bobby "Blue" Bland (Photographer unknown, circa 1958)
46. Otis Redding (Photographer unknown, circa 1967)
47. Buddy Guy (Photographer unknown, early 1960s)
48. Bruce Springsteen (Chris Walter, 1981
49. The Beatles (Jim Marshall, 1966)
50. Kiss (Barry Levine, 1978)
51. Michael Stipe (Dennis Keeley, 1991)
52. Sinead O'Connor (Albert Watson, 1992)
53. Sade (Dorothy Low, 1992)
54. Perry Farrell (Kevin Westenberg, 1990)
55. Michael Hutchence (Julian Broad, 1993)
56. Robert Plant (Carl Dunn, 1970)
57. Joni Mitchell (Norman Seeff, 1976)
58. Bono (Anton Corbijn, 1993)
59. Jimi Hendrix (Gered Mankowitz, 1967)
60. Bob Marley (Dennis Morris, 1975)
61. Bryan Ferry (Albert Sanchez, 1987)
62. Pete Townshend (Baron Wolman, 1967)
63. Peter Gabriel (Raeanne Rubenstein, 1982)
64. The Supremes (Photographer unknown, circa 1963)
65. Carlos Santana (Joel Axelrad, circa 1973)
66. Deborah Harry (Roberta Bayley, 1979)
67. Chris Isaak (Lance Staedler, 1990)
68. John Lee Hooker (Mark Seliger, 1990)
69. David Bowie (Michael Putland, 1971)
70. Rod Stewart (Ian Dickson, 1974)
71. Brian Wilson (Annie Leibovitz, 1970)
72. Rickie Lee Jones (Annie Leibovitz, 1979)
73. Jeff Beck (Baron Wolman, 1968)
74. Alice Cooper (Annie Leibovitz, 1975)
75. Jimi Hendrix (Roz Kelly, 1969
76. David Bowie (Anton Corbijn, 1980)
77. Bjork (Laura Levine, 1991)
78. The Allman Brothers Band (Stephen Paley, 1969)
79. Janis Joplin (Bob Seidemann, circa 1966)
80. Red Hot Chili Peppers (Mark Seliger, 1992)
81. Axl Rose (Herb Ritts, 1991)
82. Sid Vicious (Bob Gruen, 1978)
83. Henry Rollins (Julian Broad, 1994)
84. Gene Vincent (Photographer unknown, circa 1957)
85. Cream (Art Kane, 1967)
86. Eurythmics (Claude Gassian, 1986)
87. Paul Simon (Raeanne Rubenstein, circa 1980)
88. Prince (Terry Gydesen, 1993)
89. Dr. Dre (Mark Seliger, 1993)
90. Michael Jackson (Barry Plummer, 1972)
91. Buddy Holly (Lewis Allen, circa 1958)
92. Peter Gabriel (Anton Corbijn, 1986)
93. Emmylou Harris (David Gahr, 1975)
94. Captain Beefheart (Anton Corbijn, 1980)
95. Viv Albertine (Anton Corbijn, 1980)
96. Van Morrison (Eliott Landy, 1969)
97. Robyn Hitchcock (Dan Borris, 1993)
98. Jackson Brown (Frank W. Ockenfels 3, 1993)
99. Carole King (Kurt Markus, 1992)
100. Leonard Cohen (Raeanne Rubenstein, circa 1970)
101. Sting (Kevin Westenberg, 1992)
102. Roger Daltry (Terry O'Neill, 1978)
103. The Rolling Stones (Arthur Elgort, 1981)
104. The Band (Elliott Landy, 1969
105. Bob Dylan (Elliott Landy, circa 1970)
106. Tom Waits (Frank W. Ockenfels 3, 1992)
107. Natalie Merchant (Jon Ragel, 1989)
108. Frank Zappa (David Gahr, 1967)
109. Billy Joel (Mary Ellen Mark, 1987)
110. David Bowie (Terry O'Neill, 1974)
111. Tom Petty (Mark Seliger, 1991)
112. Dwight Yoakam (Mark Seliger, 1993)
113. Village People (Bill King, 1979)
114. The Eagles (Henry Diltz, 1972)
115. Willie Dixon, Big Joe Williams, Memphis Slim (David Gahr, 1961)
116. The Beastie Boys (David LaChapelle, 1986)
117. Simon and Garfunkel (Photographer unknown, circa 1965)
118. Mick Jagger (Peter Anderson, 1981)
119. John Lydon (Anton Corbijn, 1983)
120. Janet Jackson (Yuru Elizondo, 1993)
121. Michael Hutchence (Enrique Badulescu, 1990)
122. Graham Nash (Graham Nash, 1974)
123. Frank Zappa (Norman Seeff, 1976)
124. Little Richard (Photographer unknown, 1962)
125. Fabian (Photographer unknown, 1959)
126. James Brown (Photographer unknown, 1967)
127. Mick Fleetwood and John McVie (Mark Seliger, 1992)
128. Arlo Guthrie (Mary Ellen Mark, 1969)
129. Mothers of Invention (Art Kane, circa 1968)
130. Courtney Love (Guzman, 1992)
131. Dion (Al Wertheimer, 1958)
132. Donovan (Chris Walter, circa 1965)
133. George Harrison (Jurgen Vollmer, 1961)
134. Chuck Berry (Jimmy Willis, 1957)
135. Bob Dylan (Eliott Landy, 1968)
136. Bruce Springsteen (David Michael Kennedy, 1982)
137. Neil Young (Joel Bernstein, 1971)
138. The Grateful Dead (Gene Anthony, circa 1967)
139. Johnny Cash (Photographer unknown, circa 1960)
140. Elvis Costello (Anton Corbijn, 1977)
141. Linda Ronstadt (Annie Leibovitz, 1976)
142. Bob Dylan and Joan Baez (Daniel Kramer, 1965)
143. Elvis Presley (Photographer unknown, 1957)
144. Patti Smith (Robert Mapplethorpe, 1978)
145. Mick Jagger (Terry O'Neill, 1963)
146. Snoop Doggy Dogg (Jean Baptiste Mondino, 1994)
147. Bo Diddley (Photographer unknown, circa 1958)
148. Isaac Hayes (Raeanne Rubenstein, circa 1980)
149. Kate Bush (Anton Corbijn, 1981)
150. Bonnie Raitt (Bill King, 1975)
151. David Byrne (William Coupon, 1979)
152. Iggy Pop (Robert Mapplethorpe, 1981)
153. Grace Jones (Steven Klein, 1990)
154. Lavern Baker (Photographer unknown, circa 1955)
155. Wilson Pickett (Jerry Schatzberg, 1967)
156. Grace Slick; Jerry Garcia (Herb Greene, 1966; 1967)
157. L. L. Cool J (Albert Watson, 1992)
158. Curtis Mayfield (Mark Seliger, 1993)
159. The Jefferson Airplane (Jim Marshall, 1967)
160. The Rolling Stones (Art Kane, circa 1969)
161. Marvin Gaye (Annie Leibovitz, 1972)
162. Kim Thayil; Chris Cornell (Frank W. Ockenfels 3, 1993)
163. Madonna (Peter Lindbergh, 1994)
164. Bootsy Collins (Dennis Keeley, 1988)
165. Natalie Cole (Peggy Sirota, 1993)
166. Steven Tyler (Dennis Keeley, 1989)
167. Ice-T (Mark Seliger, 1993)
168. Nirvana (Mark Seliger, 1992)
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Re: Rolling Stone Images of Rock & Roll

Postby admin » Sat Dec 15, 2018 1:16 am


Spanning more than forty years, numerous countries and a dozen musical genres, the images found on these pages have only one thing in common: Each one took our breath away. We set out to create a book of the most powerful images from rock & roll's long history and, among the thousands we considered, found these images that captured more than a particular performer or a key moment or a beloved song. These stood out as archetypes, images that illuminate the force with which these artists animate our deepest emotions. Some came from the pages of Rolling Stone, dating back to one of the magazine's first issues in 1967. Others have never before been published anywhere. Those responsible for making these images range from the most famous rock & roll photographers on the planet to extremely talented amateurs who happened to get a once-in-a-lifetime shot. Subjects are diverse as well: Some faces are so iconic that their owners would be recognized almost anywhere in the world. A few are obscure enough that even a detailed identification would not bring them to mind. No matter. Our intention is for the viewer to put all frames of reference aside: Gaze upon the pages of this book, just as those pictured here once looked into the lens of the camera. And dream.

Holly George-Warren
Editor, Rolling Stone Press

The Look

The "Look," the visual creation and expression of an identity, is part of the very essence of rock & roll. But the relationship between the look and the sound has always been tense. After all, what could the art of photography -- with its connotations of high-gloss fashion shoots, tony museum culture and the studied concentration of studio portraiture -- really have to do with rock & roll, the sweat-soaked music of the moment, most at home in clubs and juke joints, most powerful when it's most visceral? We must first of all remember that even the grittiest performance is visual to a profound extent. Our everyday language itself reveals that: We are far more likely to say that we went to "see" a band than hear one. The look is certainly not more significant than the music, not in any lasting sense. But no music is entirely pure; no music is exclusively about itself, exclusively about sound. The look can very legitimately be said to be part of our experience of the music. David Bowie and Jackson Browne, Snoop Doggy Dogg and Paul McCartney, Carly Simon and Courtney Love: We would hear their music differently if they presented themselves to us visually in different ways.

More important, though, as with every other significant art form, rock & roll's truest, most compelling force lies not in reckless abandon, not in anarchy, but in the taut, dynamic interplay between abandon and control. If we were not already intimately familiar with the beautiful, still features of the young Elvis Presley or Pearl Jam's Eddie Vedder, for example, performance shots of those artists would have no emotional context and therefore no real meaning. So the look and the music are inevitably married, subverting and reinforcing, stating the obvious and exploring the unknown, documenting and transforming, till death do them part.

On a simpler level, photographers have access to times and places in the lives of artists that we do not, and it's a kick to sneak inside with them. How touching it is to see Aretha Franklin, a singer of monumental talent but a notoriously awkward performer, standing shyly, her eyes averted, in a New York studio with choreographer Cholly Atkins in 1961, years before she would be recognized as one of the giants of soul music. The possessor of a great vocal gift that she would later give to the world, she is trying to learn a physical language, a way of being Aretha Franklin as the eyes of others look on.

And what a delight to see the incomparable Dion DiMucci, the cocky doo-wop bard of the Bronx, sitting down for a meal with his mom, who, from her facial expression, takes her cooking seriously. This shot reminds us that photos can recall images from other media, from other times and places. One look at Dion's carefully coiffed hair inevitably brings to mind John Travolta under siege from his family at the dinner table in Saturday Night Fever, a hand and a hairdo across generations, style as a visual rebellion.

Sometimes it may take a while to get them to agree, but when artists consent to do photo shoots, it's as if they've decided to come out and play, to explore new sides of themselves, to wander out beyond the edges of the identity their fans may be most familiar with, to shed one look for another. Or sometimes they just plunge deeper into an identity they have already crafted.

With photographer Henry Diltz in 1972, the Eagles plundered history to craft an image appropriate to the feel of the American West that informs their music. In a shoot for their second album, Desperado, they cast themselves (and their friends Jackson Browne and J.D. Souther) as slain outlaws displayed on the ground as trophies by the lawmen who brought them low. That was how the West was won -- the historical photo was clearly meant to demonstrate that lawlessness would not prevail, that rule of law would rule the frontier. But Diltz and the Eagles understood that in the factious America of the early seventies, viewers (whose sensibility was partly shaped by movies like Bonnie and Clyde ad songs like Woody Guthrie's "Pretty Boy Floyd," works of art about heroic criminals in rebellion against a corrupt system) would sympathize with the beautiful, glamorous losers. "To live outside the law you must be honest," sang Bob Dylan, the inheritor of Guthrie's mantle, in the sixties -- from traditional folk music to contemporary gangster rap, imagery that defines artists as beyond confining social codes adds to their allure, the romance of their outsider status.

When the artist and the photographer enjoy a friendship based on mutual trust, the willingness to experiment can produce especially telling results. Anyone who believes Bono to be an ascetic and overly serious might have second thoughts after seeing Anton Corbijn's 1993 portrait of him in a posh New York hotel taking a bubble bath, complete with a glass of champagne and his Fly shades, a justifiably worried George Bush -- the man who thought Boy George was in U2 -- peering over his shoulder. In all likelihood, only Corbijn, who has worked with U2 for many years, could have gotten Bono to fool around so freely.

And would the notoriously private Bob Dylan have consented to bounce on a trampoline or pose with his son Jesse (now a photographer himself) for a photographer he knew less well than Elliott Landy? Historical context provides drama to such photographs, a drama hidden from viewers decades down the line. The initial shock of those photographs was seeing the spokesman for a generation, the voice at the barricades, in repose, in retreat, even having fun. The bard of protest turns out to be a family man.

The paradox is that once an artist permits a photographer into his personal life the secret world becomes known, revelation yields to the ordinariness of everyday life, and the look of domesticity becomes as much a part of the artist's iconography as the most hyped publicity shot. Then the identity as a private person and a recluse is the identity that must be escaped.

Allowed to mingle with one another, freed from the constraints of chronology and history, liberated from ego and artistic concerns, photographs can strike up conversations with each other, create fields of emotional energy between themselves. Both character and style can speak.

Jimi Hendrix and Bob Marley never met in their lives; they left this world too early. But as Hendrix sang, "If I don't see you no more in this world/I'll meet you in the next one, and don't be late." Now Hendrix and Marley meet in the symbolic afterworld of images. In his 1967 portrait, Gered Mankowitz presents Hendrix as a black Sgt. Pepper, a spellbinding blend of physical grace and outrageousness, invitation and confrontation. While Hendrix coolly smokes a cigarette, Marley blows a sacramental spliff. In Dennis Morris's photo, Marley himself seems on fire, burning with righteousness, his eyes shut in ecstasy, the smoke around him emerging from an inner flame. If Hendrix is a hipper Sgt. Pepper, a Pied Piper to the burgeoning Woodstock Nation, Marley is Natty Dread, the folkloric embodiment of an oppressed people's will to rise up and seize freedom, to catch a fire and spread it. American and Jamaican, Hendrix and Marley are black brothers, their beautiful, slender fingers pointing the way to political liberation and spiritual transcendence. The great blues master Muddy Waters, elegant and dignified in a suit, exudes the calm, concentrated power of a Buddha as he strums a guitar in a darkened dressing room. Meanwhile, Elvis Presley -- the conduit through whom black vernacular music would travel to main-street America -- stops to sign an autograph for some fans. If Muddy Waters is the embodiment of a kind of ancient, elemental wisdom, his adopted name an evocation of the great and mighty Mississippi River, Presley, his bicycle resting between his legs, is the teenager as celebrity, the new icon, delivered by the postwar prosperity of the American fifties, that would reshape the world. "The blues had a baby and they named it rock & roll," Waters wrote, and these two pictures tell that story of a father and his bastard son.

A grieving Yoko Ono, photographed by Annie Leibovitz for the first time after John Lennon's death, is haunted by the proximity of the young Lennon she never knew, a memory after the fact, as well as by her knowledge of the grown man, her husband and lover, whom she saw murdered and whom she will never again see in this world. Lennon, for his part, seems presciently stoic and sad in Astrid Kirchherr's shadowy black and white portrait of him, from 1962. He was "an immense personality that had already known much pain," Kirchherr says, the bearer of "wisdom beyond his years." Lennon's friend Stu Sutcliffe had recently died; Lennon's mother was the earlier primal loss that would define all losses for him. In his own death he would be taken away from Yoko, the mother-lover who had restored all that had been taken away from him.

Interactions among images can sometimes get edgy. Bluesman Lightnin' Hopkins, a true master of the Texas-radio big beat that inspired Jim Morrison, stands in tense relation to the Lizard King. For Morrison, a watermelon is the stuff of sensuality and fertility rites, a ripe offering from a young god to photographer Alan Ronay and, through Ronay, to the Doors' Dionysian followers. The visual presence of Hopkins, whose personal force and hard experience carry him out of the frame of Jean Pierre LeLoir's portrait and into Morrison's world, makes us uncomfortable about accepting Morrison's gift, however innocently offered. The world outside the photograph inevitably shapes how a photograph will be viewed, how it can be viewed. Race is an issue that cannot be escaped. Jim Morrison can be photographed holding a watermelon, but Lightnin' Hopkins cannot. Were the blues stolen and exploited, or exposed to a larger audience by worshipful acolytes? What is the meaning of a piece of fruit? It depends on who is offering it and who is looking on.

And why is Snoop Doggy Dogg, born Calvin Broadus in California, looking suspiciously and sidelong at Mississippi Fred McDowell over a gulf of twenty-four years? Could it be the complex relationship between young, urban African-Americans and their ancestors' rural past? The contemporaneity and purgative violence of rap and the age-old timelessness, suffering and spiritual triumph of the blues? Whatever it may be -- neither of these men, each powerful and proud, is giving any quarter.

Similarly, L.L. Cool J's raw physicality in Albert Watson's portrait of him takes on an unsettling aspect under the calm gaze of Curtis Mayfield, who was photographed by Mark Seliger in 1994. Mayfield, who is paralyzed from the neck down as the result of an accident, seems possessed of a metaphysical understanding, a kind of nobility born of his affliction and his bearing of it. His look is accepting and benign, as if to say to his younger brother: "You are youthful and strong, but there are things you do not know yet. You will learn them eventually."

Sometimes the conversation suggested by an image is really a monologue, a riveting soliloquy. What, really, is there to say when confronted by David Gahr's thrilling 1966 photo of the magnificent Howlin' Wolf ripping up the stage? Do you really want to interrupt this man, let him know what's on your mind, share your point of view? Leaning urgently forward, roaring into a microphone that he seems to be crushing with his left hand, pointing at the crowd, Wolf appears under the impression that he has something to say. Best stay out of the way and let him say it. The photograph succeeds in precisely the opposite way from the performance itself. Held still in two dimensions, Wolf is eternally in motion. Wolf's energy is so strong, so unstoppable, he seems about to haul his entire band off the stage, through the photographic frame, and on through teh rest of this book.

Clothes and Props and makeup and faces can tell stories -- one look at Raeanne Rubenstein's picture of Peter Gabriel transforming himself before going onstage demonstrates that. Does Gabriel view himself as a warrior preparing to enter battle or a clown whose purpose is to entertain a jaded public? Rock stars are a bit of both, and their performances both pander and assault, flatter and challenge. So embellishing the body is a way of telling stories. But what are the stories the body itself can tell to a camera? Sometimes a willingness to expose the body in nature communicates not wantonness but openness and innocence, as it does in Laura Levine's portrait of a nude Bjork frolicking in the woods, catching raindrops on her tongue: "And they were both naked, the man and his wife, and were not ashamed." It is the body free of adornments and affectations, ignorant of shame, the unaccommodated woman, the unaccommodated man.

The Allman Brothers' readiness to strip down for photographer Stephen Paley tells us that these musicians are bonded like a family, that they are brothers, if not all by blood, then in their souls. They are comfortable being totally exposed to one another (like soldiers, or a sports team in the locker room or shower) as well as to the photographer and, ultimately, the viewer. If you know that the Allman Brothers are a Southern band, there is an additional, larger message: The presence of a black man, drummer Jai Johanny Johanson, in this paradisiacal brotherhood suggests that a new day has dawned in a previously blighted land. Set in a cool stream in unspoiled woods, the photo tells us that the agrarian-utopian dreams of the sixties -- getting back to the land and living a communal life -- have found a fertile home in the rock & roll of the rural South. It is a prelapsarian world, before clothes were needed or even thought to be needed, before the tribes separated and scattered to the ends of the earth.

The nude body can also be a sign that someone is in peril, at risk, a target -- remember the naked fat man in the crowd at Altamont? In Bob Seidemann's affecting nude portraits of her, Janis Joplin is an exile from Eden, an injured angel, a being thoroughly, fleshily human but defenseless, all too exposed to the world and its dangers. In paradise, she would have been safe, but she is not safe here, not safe now. Sinead O'Connor seems similarly vulnerable in Albert Watson's striking portrait of her, huddled under the wings of an angel for protection like a frightened Dickensian child. As with Joplin, O'Connor has shed her feistiness and her contentiousness with her clothes, revealing the girl inside the woman, the child inside the adult.

It's hard to imagine anyone seeming less vulnerable than the Red Hot Chili Peppers in Mark Seliger's 1992 portrait of the band. Opposite Joplin's softness and sadness, the Chili Peppers are indurate and combative, their nakedness an attack, a provocation, a fuck you. There is nothing demure about the placement of their hands over their genitals; in fact, it seems almost a lewd gesture. It is only the slightest concession to civility, more for your sake than theirs, though their clear assumption is that you're missing out. The photo is a sexual taunt -- they could be concealing themselves or fondling themselves -- and a demand: "Here we are like this. What are you going to do about it?"

No less sexually charged and controversial a figure than the Chili Peppers, a shirtless Axl Rose seems surprisingly gentle, almost forlorn, his chaos finally quieted, "one of the most sensitive people I've ever photographed," according to Herb Ritts, who shot him in 1991. Rose's tattoos seem touchingly sentimental, emotional expressions he would have a hard time articulating any other way.

Other bodies have other, more disturbing things to say. Literally bent over backward onstage in Claude Gassian's 1977 concert photograph, Iggy Pop states that he must contort himself to convey convincingly the brutalities of his world -- and our world. In his persona as "the Idiot," Iggy embodies the freak as prophet and moral messenger, the tormented outsider as the ravaged conscience of the culture. (That element of Iggy is also superbly captured in Robert Mapplethorpe's stark 1981 studio portrait, which depicts the punk pioneer as a modern-day Cassandra.) Anyone not bent out of shape by this world is damnably implicated in its evils.

Set side by side, the naked torsos of Sid Vicious and Henry Rollins dramatize two contradictory visions of the ideology of punk. Each man's body is an explicitly written text, a manifesto. In Bob Gruen's concert shot from the Sex Pistols' 1978 tour, Vicious's face, chest and arms are a map of self-laceration, a paean to pain and self-destructive excess. This photo could serve to illustrate the Nirvana song "I Hate Myself and I Want to Die," a parodic title that eventually took on a merciless reality.

On the other hand, for Henry Rollins, shot while engaged in a preshow ritual in Japan in 1994 by Julian Broad ("I have never photographed anyone who affected me as much as Henry," Broad said later), to be a punk is to be a samurai. The body, in his eyes, is simultaneously a temple, a machine and a weapon, your last line of defense against the pillages of society. Taking care of it is a holy process, as much a statement as your art, the flesh made word. Rollins's back is emblazoned with the title of a song by Iggy Pop (whose own body, as we know, has a story or two to tell, which is why he has never hesitated to display it): "Search and Destroy," at once a desolate cry from one of the forefathers of punk (''I'm the world's forgotten boy/The one who searches to destroy") and a military term for the missions American soldiers would execute in the effort to locate and exterminate the Viet Cong and their sympathizers in rural Vietnam. Rollins exploits both the artistic and military associations of the slogan written (significantly, not carved, as in Vicious's case) on his body, which has been honed to a hard, pure perfection. Rollins is both desperate and aggressive, aggressive because he is desperate. If the grueling physical routine he adopts to achieve that state is a kind of self-punishment, it is in the interest of self-discipline and spiritual mastery. It is an exaltation of his body. Society is soft and flabby, weak, barely worthy to be your enemy. You are like iron, in your thinking, in your muscles, in your will, in your music, in your look.

Musicians and Movement: The road has been a time-honored theme throughout the history of rock & roll, the pilgrimage from town to town a combination of excitement and unbearable tedium, the road of excess and excessive boredom, the lost highway, a quest, a sexual adventure and a tiresome ordeal. The rush of performance is pitted against the dullness of the bus or the van and the anonymity of hotels, airports and train stations. The thrilling sense of imminent possibility at the heart of travel struggles against the absence of home. Adoring crowds alternate with excruciating isolation.

Anton Corbijn's moody, grainy image of Peter Gabriel wandering the winding road near his home in Bath, England, exquisitely evokes the metaphor of the rock & roll journey, which, for Gabriel, is an inner journey as well, with a goal of self-realization. Next to that picture, David Gahr's stunning portrait in profile of Emmylou Harris -- her gaze lifted upward, her neck and hair extending behind her in a graceful curve, like a road she has traveled -- intimates belief that at the end of the journey lies deliverance, salvation. It is a woman's body as a landscape, informed by the hope that lifts sacred country music, a source of inspiration for Harris, the road of a musical life as a stairway to heaven.

Art Kane's portrait of Cream (featuring an unlikely looking Eric Clapton on the left, whose visual image has shifted with startling regularity over the years, sporting a mustache and wearing a wool cap, shades and pink boots) depicts the band's three members seated on railroad tracks that extend into the horizon behind them. The location reflects me uneasy relationship among Clapton, drummer Ginger Baker and bassist Jack Bruce during Cream's short, tempestuous life -- railroad tracks are hardly a place to relax and unwind. This is not the Allman Brothers communing in the woods. Cream is literally in harm's way.

Michael Jackson, though, is sitting pretty in the pilot's seat in Barry Plummer's charming portrait, shot at London's Gatwick Airport in 1972. From the cockpit of the Jackson 5's private plane, Jackson leans out the window and cracks the huge, irresistible smile that won the hearts of millions when he was a boy. Years before his unprecedented and still unmatched triumphs (Thriller is a decade away) and the endless scandals and rumors that would chip away at his stature (among many other things, his innocent face at this time had not yet felt the surgeon's scalpel), Jackson exudes the energy, exuberance and good cheer that made him one of popular music's greatest and most lovable performers. His childlike joy at being in the cockpit of a plane and wearing the captain's hat is completely unaffected -- and completely infectious. In Lewis Allen's photograph from the late fifties, Buddy Holly sinks into his seat and into his coat after being driven back onto a tour bus by a screaming crowd of young girls in Rochester, New York. What's happening outside the bus is nowhere reproduced in Holly's expression, which is serious and inward looking, a far cry from the optimism and delicate yearning of his songs. He's concentrating, thinking about tonight's show or the problems with last night's, a still center in the storm his renown has created. Or maybe he's simply tired, another quotidian reality of the road.

ROCK & ROLL has been said to be about little more than cars and girls -- another aspect of the lives of musicians in motion -- but mobility and sex are far from its only subjects. True, the appeal of fast, fancy cars can't be denied when you look at the late, great Gene Vincent lighting up behind the wheel of a sports car, or at Dr. Dre blazing by photographer Mark Seliger. The case for the sybaritic pleasure of cars has been convincingly made time and time again but it's not the only case. Even that ultimate symbol of self-indulgent rock & roll success, the limousine, is not always a luxurious pleasure-mobile. For Prince, a hermit of hedonism, his limousine is another necessary layer of insulation against the intrusions of the external world. Decked our, as usual -- Prince isn't much for leisure wear -- the Royal One casts a wary glance out the window of his car. He doesn't see his privileged domain as a gilded cage. Far from it -- it's much safer on the inside. The Artist formerly Known as Prince is a man who has stringently controlled his music, his look, even his name, transforming himself from a person into a Symbol. Outside the limousine, though, is a world he can't control and has no desire to enter, except when he can set the conditions.

Paul Simon evidently feels differently. In Raeanne Rubenstein's photograph, Simon is squeezed to one side of an otherwise empty couch-sized seat, like a kid being sent off to boarding school against his will, a poor little rich boy. Decked out in jeans and a windbreaker -- Simon isn't much for formal wear -- he casts a sidelong glance, as Prince does. But Simon's look toward the window opposite him is less a nervous appreciation of his solitude than an envious glance at the world outside, the expression of a claustrophobic fear that he is going to be swallowed up by the darkness around him. Rubenstein felt that Simon had the quality of a "little boy lost," and her distinctive portrait isolates that element within him.

With the exception of paparazzi, photographers who shoot rock stars are conspirators with them. On the simplest level, rock stars are perfect subjects. For one, however disheveled they may sometimes appear, they are obsessed with how they look -- that's one reason male rock stars get along so well with models -- and photographers typically want their subjects to look good, or at least interesting. Beyond that, artists often insist on selecting -- or helping to select -- the people who will photograph them, ensuring at least a certain amount of camaraderie. And, beyond that, artists often seek "photo approval" from publications -- that is, the ability to determine which images taken by the photographer they chose in the first place will be seen by the world. In a context over which rock stars are able to exert so much control, you'd think they'd always be content and cooperative. So why would they give the finger to the camera, as Johnny Cash and Kurt Cobain do a generation apart? Is it just another example of a rebel posture, a knee-jerk exercise of the ability to insult and provoke? Or is it something else? Who or what are they giving the finger to? Is it the photographer? That's unlikely -- if they felt that negatively about someone they were working with, the artists would probably just walk out of the session. Is it their audience? That's even less likely, at least in these two cases. Both Johnny Cash and -- while they existed -- Nirvana expressed a strong degree of identification with their following. So what's the problem?

What they're doing is giving the finger to the very process of having their picture taken, the entire process of creating images, defining a look, that drives popular culture. It is widely known that people in certain indigenous cultures fear having their picture taken, fear seeing images of themselves reproduced. In their cultures, creating images is a serious business, a means of creating a desired reality. They do nor create images of themselves conquering in battle or the hunt because they look cool; they are a kind of prayer, a vision they want and need to make real.

Unlike indigenous tribes, celebrities in our culture do nor believe that their souls will be trapped in the camera or in the photograph. They are afraid of losing their souls and their selves to the machine, though -- no matter how ardently they may have sought the warming gaze of the public eye. They understand how important images are in our culture and, more to the point, they understand that they will never fully be able to control that power. They can limit the number of photo sessions they do or even refuse to do photo sessions. They can insist on selecting the photographers who will shoot them (interesting term, that) and insist on photo approval. But images are slippery, particularly in a culture as visually promiscuous as ours. They will escape the most arduous efforts to control them. Even if, like Johnny Cash, you are a straight-shooting guy who doesn't want to have an image, that is your image. Even if, like Nirvana, you are an underground band that doesn't want anything (or at least nor much) to do with the image-making machinery, that is your image. There is no getting around if. So artists rebel and give the finger: "I am not only what you are looking at. I am nor a look or an image. I exist in three dimensions, not two. I am a human being."

But there is no end to the making of many images, the shaping of the look The media has become a fun-house mirror, and, after all, identity is nor fixed; it changes with time and mood and circumstance. The boundaries of the self fluctuate and blur, mix with everything else around, then turn, and turn again into something new. Photographic images are points in that ever-ongoing process. Neither a trap nor an eternal definition, they are the expression of a moment, the capturing of a visual instant, the preservation of something that is inherently impermanent for the ages.

Sid Vicious's Version of Punk

IN SID VICIOUS'S VERSION of punk, anger against the world is turned against the self -- and the body as the most visible and most accessible manifestation of the self. In this view, the body is a trap, just like the other traps a bankrupt society sets in your path, and the pleasures of the body are a bribe, a means society exploits to try to make you conform, to become indistinguishable from everyone else. Sex (as the portrait of Sid handcuffed to his girlfriend Nancy Spungen attests) is a form of bondage. The purpose of drug use, if drugs are used, is to numb pain, not to experience revelation.

To set yourself apart, you punish your body, mutilate it; it is a prison and, ultimately, you want to set yourself free of it. Art becomes, in part, a kind of vandalism of the body; a wound, a scar, a kind of savage beauty that connects you to others of your desperate tribe who are similarly marked. Your willingness to damage yourself offers proof of your commitment and even consolation: No one can ever treat you worse than you are willing to treat yourself. You conquer enemies by internalizing them and, in your willingness to destroy yourself, you release yourself from their clutches.


PHOTOGRAPHERS have access to times and places in the lives of artists that we do not, and it's a kick to sneak inside with them. Images caught at such times can document the crafting of an image, the act of refining in private the version of the self that will be presented to the public. That activity can be cynical or manipulative -- or it can be a process of discovery, a means of experimenting with possibilities, a justification of the conviction that identity is not fixed but endlessly malleable, subject to our desire to make who we are who we want to be.

Clothes and Props

CLOTHES AND PROPS and makeup and faces can tell stories -- one look at Peter Gabriel transforming himself before going onstage demonstrates that. Does Gabriel view himself as a warrior preparing to enter battle or a clown whose purpose is to entertain a jaded public? Rock stars are a bit of both, and their performances both pander and assault, flatter and challenge. Makeup enhances and disguises, making a theater of the face and body, transfiguring a person into a character. Life becomes larger than life; the performer is himself and someone else, a man and a metaphor, a person and a commentary. The element of artifice is part of the performance to come, part of the medium through which the artist and the audience engage.


Videos, for better or worse, are now the primary visual medium for rock & roll, not movies, not photographs.

A video can have that kind of commercial impact. A photograph cannot. So what, then, can photographs tell us that videos can't? For one thing, a photograph is about a moment. It's not about a song -- or selling a song. Any message a photograph sends about an artist's work is secondary; its primary message is about who we believe that artist to be, how he or she wants to be seen, how the photographer perceives that person. For the artist, the photographer and the viewer, a photograph is a journey into the self. The moment captured in a photograph can be about the whim of an afternoon or the heart of an artist's vision.

Hip Trappings of Success

THE HIP TRAPPINGS of success -- a fancy car, a limousine, a private jet -- are all accessories of the rock & roll image. Lusting after the stuff has never been cool -- rappers excepted, of course -- but enjoying the stuff has always been.

Rockers must never appear to be aspiring to success as artificially defined by the society at large; the symbols of their success must suit them exactly, must seem to be quintessential expressions of their personalities. They must also seem to have been gained on the artists' own terms and no one else's.

For one artist it could be the perfect sports car of teenage dreams. For another it could be a lucrative record contract or an elegant home, proof that rock & roll can be the means of secular salvation, can raise a person from the streets to the heavens of personal indulgence. Fans, meanwhile, regard the material success of their favorite artists as confirmations of their faith. The only unforgivable sins in their eyes are pretension and bad taste.

Buddy Holly

Buddy Holly sinks into his seat and into his coat after being driven back onto a tour bus by a screaming crowd of young girls in Rochester, New York. What's happening outside the bus is nowhere reproduced in Holly's expression, which is serious and inward looking, a far cry from the optimism and delicate yearning of his songs. He's concentrating, thinking about tonight's show or the problems with last night's. Or maybe he's simply tired, another quotidian reality of the road.

When artists are seen offstage, they are often on the fly, in dressing rooms, airports, hotels, cars, buses -- the condition of in between. The road has been a time-honored theme throughout the history of rock & roll, the subject of innumerable songs, the pilgrimage from town to town a combination of excitement and unbearable tedium, the road of excess and the lost highway, a quest and a tiresome ordeal. The rush of performance is pitted against the crushing boredom of life in unrelenting movement or the everyday agony of enforced stasis. The thrilling sense of imminent possibility at the heart of travel struggles against the absence of home. Adoring crowds alternate with excruciating isolation, and drugs and alcohol beckon as the road's great balms. The impulse to engage the audience -- and the search for a new audience -- is unending, exhilarating and bruising. So like all traveling entertainers, rock stars find the road eventually becomes ingrained within them, an internalized no-place place that haunts them, but that also offers frighteningly seductive comforts: the luxury of meaninglessness, a love affair with the surface of things, the grim ecstasy of escape from all the deepest commitments, the calming decadence of just another night along the road.


Images can involve the elaborate construction of a persona, metaphor made visible, or they can simply be a minute on the street, an easy instant of posing and moving on, the photographic encounter forgotten the second it is over. The first type of image can entail costumes, historical journeys, a submergence of the self into characters, the evocation in the still photograph of an implied, ongoing drama. The other relies on the viewer's knowledge of the photographic subject; ignorance of the person being shot drains the image of all significance.

But are those two approaches ultimately so different? A street is no less consciously chosen as a photographic site than a studio set -- even if it is chosen exclusively by necessity. Nor is it any less theatrical. Street clothes are not arbitrary; they are no more or less revealing or concealing of meaning than costumes. Neither is more or less a clue to identity. People smile or laugh in impromptu pictures, not necessarily because they are happy but because they are being photographed. They are playing a role -- the role of someone whose picture is being taken -- as surely as if they were on a stage.

Once an Artist ...

Once an artist permits a trusted photographer into his personal life, the secret world becomes known, revelation yields to the ordinariness of everyday life, and the look of domesticity becomes as much a part of the artist's iconography as the most hyped publicity shot. This can be a conscious retreat, as when the artist who has boldly pressed a vision upon us steps back and appears to say, I am just a person. Or it can be a challenge, pointing out how far from reality we let these beings live in our imagination.

In Portraits ...

In portraits of quiet moments we can sense the explosive drive within artists. And as we stand in awe of their impressive might onstage, we remember the resonant images of their quieter selves. Often photographs are also private moments made public, with all the contradictions such a description suggests. In seeming isolation, the artist is, in fact, twice being observed, first by the photographer, then by us. To the degree that the artist conspired in the shaping of the shoot, there may even be three levels of observation, with the first taking place in the artist's imagination.


Celebrities in our culture do not believe that their souls will be trapped in the camera or in the photograph -- at least not in so many words. They are afraid of losing their souls and their selves to the machine, however willingly they may have sought the warm gaze of the public eye. They understand how important images are in our culture and, more to the point, they understand that, however hard they try, they will never fully be able to control that power.
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Re: Rolling Stone Images of Rock & Roll

Postby admin » Sat Dec 15, 2018 1:19 am

Johnny Cash (Jim Marshall, 1969)
San Quentin, California: Marshall accompanied Cash to this concert for prison inmates. While performed on a stage in the mess hall, the show was recorded for Johnny Cash at San Quentin. During soundcheck, Marshall remembers shouting to Cash, "Let's do a shot for the warden!" and getting this picture. Cash recalls that his gesture was aimed at a television crew who'd been following him around for three days.

Muddy Waters (Terry Cryer, 1958)
London: Cryer shot the forty-three-year-old Waters prior to a gig with jazz bandleader and blues aficionado Chris Barber. This was one of the Chicago bluesman's stops on an influential British tour.

Marianne Faithfull (Gered Mankowitz, 1965)
When Mankowitz, who frequently photographed the early Rolling Stones, took this picture, the teenage Faithfull had already had a hit with "As Tears Go By," cowritten by Keith Richards and future paramour Mick Jagger.

Elvis Presley (Photographer unknown, 1957)
At the height of his initial popularity, twenty-two-year-old Elvis paused on the set of Loving You to sign autographs for fans. He would soon be drafted into the U.S. Army. (Jeff Cahn Collection)

Stu Sutcliffe and Paul McCartney (Astrid Kirchherr, 1961)
While in Hamburg, Germany, to play a stint on the Reeperbahn, the Beatles had their first professional photo shoot. Bassist Sutcliffe died of a brain hemorrhage not long after leaving the bank to pursue his painting career. (Star File)

John Lennon (Astrid Kirchherr, 1962)
Hamburg, Germany: The year before the release of the first Beatles album, Lennon was photographed in the art studio of the late Stu Sutcliffe -- with whom Kirchherr had been romantically involved. The only light fell from a small window, parting the grieving Lennon's face in half. Lennon and Sutcliffe had been close friends since their student days in Liverpool. (Star file)

Yoko Ono (Annie Leibovitz, 1981)
This was the portrait taken of Ono following the death of John Lennon. Leibovitz also took the last photos of Lennon before his murder in New York City on December 9, 1980.


Robert Plant; Jimmy Page (Herb Greene, 1969)
San Francisco: The vocalist and guitarist of the new British band Led Zeppelin posed for Greene during their first American tour. The session was interrupted when the Grateful Dead, "toting guns and live ammo," according to Greene, showed up for an unscheduled photo shoot.
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Re: Rolling Stone Images of Rock & Roll

Postby admin » Sat Dec 15, 2018 1:20 am


Eric Clapton; Steve Winwood (David Gahr, 1969)
London: As the cofounders of Blind Faith -- one of rock & Roll's first supergroups -- Clapton and Winwood were in the midst of recording at Olympic Studio, along with drummer Ginger Baker and bassist Rick Grech. The band began a sold-out -- and quite tempestuous -- American tour before the album's release; afterward the group broke up. Clapton went on to a solo career, as did his ex-Cream band mate Baker. Winwood re-formed Traffic with Grech before embarking on his solo venture.

Ike and Tina Turner (Dennis Hopper, 1966)
Los Angeles: Producer Phil Spector arranged for the actor-photographer to do the photo session for the Turners' album River Deep, Mountain High. This picture was used for the back cover of the LP, which was a surprise flop, prompting the embittered Spector to go into a two-year seclusion.

James Taylor (Norman Seeff, 1969)
Martha's Vineyard, Massachusetts: Seeff arrived for the photo session to find Taylor, who had yet to have a successful album, working on the frame of his house.

Carly Simon (Norman Seeff, 1975)
Simon, then married to James Taylor, practiced yoga during the Playing Possum cover shoot. This frame immortalized the singer as she rose from one position.

Nancy Spungen and Sid Vicious (Photographer unknown, 1977)
This promotional photo for the Sex Pistols' infamous debut album featured the bassist and his soul mate. Both were dead less than two years later. (London Features)

Lou Reed (Andrew Kent, circa 1974)
Santa Monica: Photographing Reed in his Rock 'n' Roll Animal phase, Kent recalled the "terror and excitement" of the Velvet Underground founder's stage persona.

Johnny Winter (Norman Seeff, 1970)
Los Angeles: In the wake of the blues guitarist's highly successful 1969 self-titled debut album, Seeff framed the twenty-six-year-old Winter "catching his own self-reflection, an outward expression of that inner movement." Two years later, the albino Texan's career would be briefly derailed by his heroin addiction.

Janet Jackson (Yuri Elizondo, 1993)
Taken at Long Beach Airport, this picture "was inspired by the old glamour celebrity shots of the thirties and forties," Elizondo said. "It was shot looking out of an airplane hangar, into the night."

Michael Jackson (Claude Gassian, 1984)
Knoxville, Tennessee: Two years after the release of Thriller, the record that broke all records, Gassian longed to get an atypical shot at the King of Pop performing. "I hid one evening in the summer of 1984," the French photographer recalled, "and I continued to shoot photographs after I was authorized to do so -- but I only did it to catch Michael Jackson unposed, I swear!"
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Re: Rolling Stone Images of Rock & Roll

Postby admin » Sat Dec 15, 2018 1:25 am

Elvis Presley (Bob Moreland, circa 1955)
Moreland photographed the young artist on the brink of stardom. During a stint on the Louisiana Hayride and as a member of Hank Snow's C & W package tour, Elvis's moves caused near-riots. In November 1955, manager Colonel Tom Parker negotiated a deal with RCA, which bought out the singer's Sun Records contract for thirty-five thousand dollars. (Globe Photos).

K.D. Lang (Stephen Danelian, 1992)
Los Angeles: Danelian wanted to avoid a glamour-puss pose when photographing Lang around the time of Ingenue's release, the album of sophisticated torch songs that brought the singer massive success. He waited for a rainy day and, using the Holiday Inn in the background, captured on film, Danelian said, "a naturalness and fluidity, two key elements of Lang's music."

Ray Charles (Jim Marshall, 1960)
Oakland, California: Charles, who had just scored a Number One pop hit with "Georgia on My Mind," headlined this concert. That night Marshall introduced the thirty-year-old Charles to influential music critic Ralph Gleason, later a cofounder of Rolling Stone.

Lightnin' Hopkins (Jean Pierre LeLoir, circa 1962)
Paris, France: Texas-born Sam "Lightnin'" Hopkins began roaming his home state in the late twenties, developing a highly influential country-blues guitar style. Hopkins became one of the most successful rural bluesmen, performing all over the world. LeLoir photographed Hopkins at a Parisian nightclub.

Jim Morrison (Alan Ronay, 1971)
After completing the Doors' L.A. Woman, Morrison took an extended leave of absence. Ronay caught up with the Lizard King just before he moved to Paris to live with his wife in seclusion. On July 3, 1971, he was found dead of heart failure.

Snoop Doggy Dogg (Dan Winters, 1993)
Winters photographed Snoop as he was coming into the public eye. A bit nervous at the beginning of the session, Snoop loosened up when Winters played The Chronic, the new album by Snoop's mentor Dr. Dre. Having been a featured guest on the recording, Snoop rapped along with each line. His multiplatinum debut, Doggystyle, appeared at year's end, ensuring his place in hip-hop history.

Mississippi Fred McDowell (Baron Wolman, 1969)
Memphis: Wolfman and fellow photographer Jim Marshall spent the summer of '69 documenting music festivals, such as this blues fest where he caught McDowell backstage. The bottleneck slide guitarist made his name playing Mississippi juke joints but was actually born in rural Tennessee.

B.B. King (The Hooks Brothers, 1949)
Still known by his given name, Riley King, the blues guitarist had just moved to Memphis when this picture was taken at a Beale Street portrait photography studio. Living with his cousin bluesman Bukka White, King would soon become a famous WDIA radio DJ, gaining the nickname "Blues Boy," later shortened to B.B. (Michael Ochs Archives)

Flavor Flav (Jesse Frohman, 1992)
New York City: Cruising on the momentum of Public Enemy's immensely popular albums -- 1990's Fear of a Black Planet and the following year's Apocalypse '91 ... The Enemy Strikes Black -- jokester Flavor Flav reminded Frohman of "James Brown on speed." Frohman found the gold caps on Flav's teeth so indicative of the rapper's character he saved the last few frames of the shoot to capture them on film.

Aretha Franklin and Cholly Atkins (Photographer unknown, 1961)
Choreographer to most Motown acts, Atkins also worked with nineteen-year-old Franklin, then signed to Columbia Records and singing pop ballads. Several years later she moved to Atlantic Records and created the megahits that came to define soul music. (Frank Driggs Collection)

Jackie Wilson (Photographer unknown, circa 1958)
Considered the most amazing live performer in rock & roll, Wilson, dubbed Mister Excitement, influenced other dynamic showmen, including James Brown. At this show, Wilson was the headliner of a rock & roll package tour that traveled the United States in the late fifties. (Michael Ochs Archives)
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Re: Rolling Stone Images of Rock & Roll

Postby admin » Sat Dec 15, 2018 1:28 am

Madonna (Peter Lindbergh, 1994)
Madonna briefly studied dance at the Graham School when she was eighteen. Here, she tries out moves inspired by Martha Graham for a fashion magazine article, in which she wrote of her "camaraderie" with the dance legend's "pioneering spirit and rebellious creative energy." (Harper's Bazaar)


Elvis Presley (Jean Cummings, 1956)
Tupelo, Mississippi: After Elvis's sensational appearances on several TV variety shows, including those hosted by the Dorsey Brothers, Ed Sullivan and Steve Allen, his hometown honored him with Elvis Presley Day. (Flower Children)

Jerry Lee Lewis (Photographer unknown, circa 1965)
By the mid-sixties, with his early hits way behind him, Lewis toured the club circuit relentlessly, billing his act "the greatest show on earth." This image, taken at a typical Lewis venue, was a promo picture from that time. (Note the strange Pippi Longstocking legs above the Killer's head and the empty beer bottle at his feet.) In 1968 Lewis abandoned rock & roll for C & W.

Elton John (Barry Wentzell, 1973)
Photographed the year of his Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, John was milking his over-the-top stage persona, using extreme versions of shoes and glasses to exaggerate his image. John became the first artist since the Beatles to have four albums in the U.S. Top Ten simultaneously. (Star File)


Paul Weller; Pete Townshend (Pennie Smith, 1978; 1982)
A photographer for New Musical Express, Smith liked to work close to the stage, never planning a shot but acting on instinct. She knew the performance styles of both Paul Weller, then fronting the Jam, and the Who's Pete Townshend well enough to sense what they would do. When each made a characteristic jump, she shot. Weller's guitar technique was inspired by Townshend -- as were his jumps. The Jam was so influenced by the Mod-era Who that the band was often referred to as the new Who. Weller, then twenty, broke up his band four years later to form the R & B-tinged Style Council. The Who, which originally formed in 1964, also announced that the 1982 tour would be the band's last, but eventually re-formed temporarily for several reunion performances.

Patti Smith (Bill King, 1975)
Smith, a whirling dervish in performance, had just released her debut, Horses. Her inspirations were equal parts Tax/Volt soul, sixties girl groups, the Rolling Stones, Jim Morrison, Bob Dylan and Arthur Rimbaud.

Chubby Checker (Bill Ray, 1959)
Ray captured eighteen-year-old Philadelphian Ernest Evans, a.k.a. Chubby Checker, doing the dance he made famous. "The Twist" was actually written and first recorded by R&B singer Hank Ballard, but it was Checker's version that catapulted to the top of the charts, not once but twice -- in 1960 and 1962. Checker, who got the idea for his name from New Orleans rock & roll legend Fats Domino, went on to promote several less popular dance crazes: the Hucklebuck, the Fly, the Pony, and the Limbo.

Bill Haley and His Comets (Mickey Pallas, 1956)
Chicago: The 1955 movie Blackboard Jungle sent Haley's "Rock Around the Clock" to the top of the pop charts. Pallas, primarily a jazz photographer, was amused by the mania surrounding the new sound called rock & roll. (University of Arizona Foundation/The Center for Creative Photography Collection)
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Re: Rolling Stone Images of Rock & Roll

Postby admin » Sat Dec 15, 2018 1:31 am

Eddie Vedder (Chris Cuffaro, 1991)
New York City: With Vedder's frontman skills well-honed and a debut album in the stores, Pearl Jam had yet to experience superstardom. But by the end of the next year Ten had gone multiplatinum. "Music saved me," the lead singer later said. "I mean, my upbringing was like a hurricane, and music was the tree I held onto."

Sam and Dave (Photographer unknown, circa 1967)
Sam Moore and Dave Prater had their biggest year in 1967 with the classic hit "Soul Man." The duo, nicknamed "Double Dynamite," began feuding, breaking up the first time in '70 -- with a final split in 1982. (Michael Ochs Archives)

Van Morrison (Photographer unknown, circa 1967)
Van Morrison had just scored his first hit as a solo artist, "Brown Eyed Girl," after leaving the Irish band Them. (Michael Ochs Archives)

Howlin' Wolf (David Gahr, 1966)
Newport Folk Festival, Rhode Island: The great Chicago blues belter, born Chester Arthur Burnett, wowed large audiences -- as well as the stage hands. Wolf's bands included such influential musicians as guitarist Hubert Sumlin, pictured here between Wolf and bassist Andrew "Blueblood" McMahon.

Talking Heads (Godlis, 1977)
New York City: An auspicious moment, this was the Talking Heads' first night as a foursome at CBGB, the club that gave the band, formed in 1975, its start. Ex-Modern Lover Jerry Harrison (at left), on guitar, joins original members, drummer Chris Frantz, lead singer-guitarist David Byrne and bassist Tina Weymouth. Their debut album, 77, was released on Sire later in the year.

Stevie Wonder (Popsie Randolph, 1963)
Randolph shot a performance by the thirteen-year-old singer at Harlem's Apollo Theatre. Then billed as Little Stevie Wonder, he had just had his first Number One hit, "Fingertips (Part 2)." (Frank Driggs Collection)

Brenda Lee (Photographer unknown, 1960)
With her mighty voice, Brenda Lee's compelling delivery fooled audiences into believing she was far older than her sixteen years. During a tour in France it was rumored that she was a thirty-two-year-old midget. (Michael Ochs Archives)

Iggy Pop (Claude Gassian, 1977)
Paris: The former Stooges leader had released his second solo album, Lust for Life, in '77. The Igster later wrote in his memoirs: "Once I started playing onstage ... it was like a wolf after getting his first blood or something. As soon as I had a taste of that, I just abandoned all interest in music and went right straight for the throat."

Bobby "Blue" Bland (Photographer unknown, circa 1958)
The patriarch of soul singing, Bland got his first recording contract after working as B.B. King's chauffeur. The Memphis artist has scored over twenty R&B Top Ten singles, beginning with 1957's "Farther Up the Road."

Otis Redding (Photographer unknown, circa 1967)
Redding gave a stunning show at the Monterey Pop Festival in 1967. Six months later, in one of rock's greatest tragedies, he was killed in a plane crash. (Michael Ochs Archives)
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Re: Rolling Stone Images of Rock & Roll

Postby admin » Sat Dec 15, 2018 1:34 am

Buddy Guy (Photographer unknown, early 1960s)
Discovered by Muddy Waters at a Chicago club, Guy remembered: "I started crying, telling him I'm going back home because I didn't know anybody and I was about to starve. He said, 'No, you're gonna play this guitar ... I'm here to hear you, and when I hear you play, you ain't going no-damn-where.'" (Michael Ochs Archives)

Bruce Springsteen (Chris Walter, 1981
Los Angeles: Springsteen was in the midst of a lengthy tour of sold-out-four-hour shows. Knowing that he often came down to the corner of the stage, Walter waited there with a wide-angle lens, hoping to catch an expressive moment. In the background is saxophonist Clarence Clemons. (Photofeatures)

The Beatles (Jim Marshall, 1966)
San Francisco: Marshall, the official photographer to shoot the Beatles' final live concert, captured the Fab Four -- John, George, Paul and Ringo -- heading for the stage that evening of August 29th in Candlestick Park.

Kiss (Barry Levine, 1978)
New York City: Levine wanted to use Kiss's Big Apple associations as a theme for this publicity photo, so the group headed for the observatory of the Empire State Building. All made up with nowhere to go are (from left) drummer Peter Criss, bassist Gene Simmons, guitarist Ace Frehley and (top) guitarist Paul Stanley.

Michael Stipe (Dennis Keeley, 1991)
Taken during the video shoot for "Losing My Religion," this photo captured, for Keeley, the R.E.M. vocalist's eccentric nature and "the quiet place he often creates around himself."

Sinead O'Connor (Albert Watson, 1992)
New York City: Watson shot O'Connor the year of her controversial appearances on both Saturday Night Live and the Bob Dylan tribute concert.

Sade (Dorothy Low, 1992)
California: During a video shoot for Love Deluxe's "No Ordinary Love," Low captured thirty-three-year-old Sade in a costume of her own design. The silky-voiced singer -- born Helen Folasade Adu in Nigeria -- had once studied fashion design in London.

Perry Farrell (Kevin Westenberg, 1990)
San Francisco: Westenberg caught Farrell at a crossroads in his career. Jane's Addiction had gained commercial success with "Been Caught Stealing." Then, in '91, he founded Lollapalooza and dissolved Jane's. Porno for Pyros ensued in '92.

Michael Hutchence (Julian Broad, 1993)
Nice, France: Within the span of a four-hour shoot, Broad says, the energetic INXS lead vocalist managed to be photographed "Naked up a tree, swimming in his pool, fencing with a mate, and topless by an ivy-covered wall, wearing a kilt."

Robert Plant (Carl Dunn, 1970)
Dallas Texas: Dunn went to the Cabana Hotel (now a minimum-security prison) in hopes of photographing the members of Led Zeppelin, who had played the night before. He snapped a floating Plant. (Photofeatures)
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Re: Rolling Stone Images of Rock & Roll

Postby admin » Sat Dec 15, 2018 1:37 am

Joni Mitchell (Norman Seeff, 1976)
Bel Air, California: When Seeff went to the singer's home, around the time of Hejira's release, the two agreed to photograph Mitchell in her pool. Though Seeff typically shoots his subjects at close range, he climbed up to a balcony, capturing the lithe songwriter from above.

Bono (Anton Corbijn, 1993)
New York City: "The Fly," Bono's persona for U2's Zooropa album and Zoo TV tour, satirized as well as thoroughly enjoyed the decadent life of a rock star. Bono once said of Corbijn: "Sometimes he can give you a substance you may not have ... but are working toward."

Jimi Hendrix (Gered Mankowitz, 1967)
With the Jimi Hendrix Experience (including drummer Mitch Mitchell and bassist Noel Redding) already a huge London sensation, Mankowitz was thrilled to meet the guitarist.

Bob Marley (Dennis Morris, 1975)
As reggae's leading ambassador -- whose songs of determination, rebellion and faith were embraced by fans all over the world -- Marley lived and expressed the culture that surrounded the music: ganja, dreads, joy and ease.

Bryan Ferry (Albert Sanchez, 1987)
In this shoot for Interview, Sanchez captured what he felt was a very typical moment for the magnetic singer. Sanchez remarked that Ferry sank "effortlessly into a glamorous, dreamlike state." A different shot from this session was used for the cover of 1988's Bete Noire.

Pete Townshend (Baron Wolman, 1967)
San Francisco: For the first concert that Wolman shot for the brand-new magazine Rolling Stone, he caught the Who's twenty-two-year-old guitarist in a typically agitated moment. After the show at the Cow Palace, editor Jann S. Wenner interviewed Townshend.

Peter Gabriel (Raeanne Rubenstein, 1982)
Philadelphia: Gabriel was snapped backstage at the Spectrum Theater. That same year, he founded the World of Music, Arts and Dance Festival.

The Supremes (Photographer unknown, circa 1963)
While their debut, Meet the Supremes, had been causing a sensation, the camera found Diana Ross, already in charge, powdering Mary Wilson's face as Florence Ballard looks on. The Motown singers became the most successful girl group of the sixties. (Michael Ochs Archives)

Carlos Santana (Joel Axelrad, circa 1973)
The Mexican-born guitarist formed Santana in 1967. By '72 he was also working outside the group, primarily with jazz musicians. Love, Devotion, Surrender, 1973's collaboration, featured John McLaughlin, Billy Cobham, Stanley Clarke and others (Michael Ochs Archives)

Deborah Harry (Roberta Bayley, 1979)
Las Vegas: Blondie's lead singer brought a sultry, thrift-store chic to punk rock. Bayley, who first photographed Harry for New York's Punk magazine, got her backstage after the chart-topping "Heart of Glass" had sent the band into the big time.
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Re: Rolling Stone Images of Rock & Roll

Postby admin » Sat Dec 15, 2018 1:40 am

Chris Isaak (Lance Staedler, 1990)
The retro rocker, who also has a fondness for fifties fashions, had his Top Ten breakthrough in early 1991 after a version of his "Wicked Game" was featured in the film Wild at Heart.

John Lee Hooker (Mark Seliger, 1990)
Vallejo, California: Seliger met the septuagenarian bluesman at his home near San Francisco. Hooker went to his closet and pulled out three poka-dot shirts because, he told Seliger, polka dots were his favorite. Earlier that year the Mississippi-born "father of the boogie" was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

David Bowie (Michael Putland, 1971)
Kent, England: Then a photographer for Disc and Music Echo, Putland met the singer at his home, where they captured the sexual ambiguity of Bowie's recent album Hunky Dory, which featured his virtual theme song "Changes." The next year, after telling Melody Maker he was gay, Bowie adopted the persona of Ziggy Stardust, one of several explored in his musical career. (Retna Pictures)

Rod Stewart (Ian Dickson, 1974)
London: Stewart was apparently sick of "cheesecake" publicity shots, so when Dickson arrived at the Royal Garden Hotel one morning to do the photo session, the singer mischievously climbed into a pair of pajamas his mother had recently bought for him. (Redferns)

Brian Wilson (Annie Leibovitz, 1970)
West Hollywood, California: Leibovitz, who had started shooting for Rolling Stone in 1969, photographed the eccentric genius in the aisles of his own health-food store, the Radiant Radish. After 1964, Wilson stopped touring with the Beach Boys and spent more and more time indulging a string of short-lived interests, along with his musical experimentation.

Rickie Lee Jones (Annie Leibovitz, 1979)
Santa Monica, California: The twenty-five-year-old bohemian singer-songwriter had just found success with her self-titled debut when Leibovitz photographed her at home for Rolling Stone. The album yielded "Chuck E.'s in Love," Jones's only Top Ten hit to date.

Jeff Beck (Baron Wolman, 1968)
San Francisco: Woman captured this intimate moment during a tour of the Jeff Beck Group (which included, at the time, vocalist Rod Stewart and Ron Wood on bass). Guitarist Beck was napping before a performance at the Carousel Ballroom on Market Street (which became Bill Graham's theater, the Fillmore West).

Alice Cooper (Annie Leibovitz, 1975)
With Welcome to My Nightmare maintaining his place as the king of "shock rock," Cooper displayed his edgy image. The same year, he starred in a prime-time TV special, played Las Vegas and guested on The Hollywood Squares.

Jimi Hendrix (Roz Kelly, 1969
This photo caught the twenty-seven-year-old virtuoso guitarist at the peak of his stardom, only a year before his death. Having just woken up, Hendrix reportedly asked the photographer to join him in his bed. (Michael Ochs Archives)

David Bowie (Anton Corbijn, 1980)
Chicago: A master of imagery, Bowie took the lead in the play The Elephant Man. He has said of this photo: "It was a very accurate reflecting of me. Very dispirited. Why? 'Cause there's a little Elephant Man in everyone!"
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