The Rolling Stones
"Some Girls"
(Rolling Stones Records, 1978)

By LISA CROVO Summer of 1978. I was 12 and my brother Dana was 15. Dana had spent countless hours molding me into a Stones fan and it had finally taken hold -- I succumbed to his relentless enthusiasm after about 90 repetitions of the album "Black and Blue" at a volume that damn near broke my poor mother. Dana debuted his latest music store purchase in the back seat of the family station wagon on the way up to Lake Winnepasaukee. It was "Some Girls," the new Stones album, and it was gritty and nasty and funny and funky. "Go ahead, bite the big apple, don't mind the maggots, uh huh." Before long we knew every word, every beat. It was as if the essence of a hot, muggy adolescent summer night had been distilled into a ten-track cassette tape. Maybe the erratic hormonal surges had something to do with it, but to this day, I can't listen to any song on that album without being psychically transported to those sticky, wild, mosquito-bitten nights on the lake in Meredith, New Hampshire. I can almost taste the flat, tepid mouthful of my first illicit beer. The raw, raunchy energy behind "Some Girls" was infectious. Dana turned everyone we hung out with that summer onto that record. Even my mother was overheard humming "Beast of Burden" during a weak moment. By the end of the season the tape was warped and the song titles illegible, but Mick continued to warble on in delicious irreverence, thrilling our perverted teenage ears with his declaration that "black girls just want to get fucked all night, I just don't have that much jam." I had my first kiss that summer. The guy was nothing to write home about, but, then again, I was in love with Keith Richards and what 13-year-old townie could compete with the original Bad Boy of Rock 'n' Roll? Two years ago I met Keith. I was bartending at an after-hours party for the Stones' crew during their "Voodoo Lounge tour." It was Halloween and I was dressed like a nun. I knew Dana wouldn't let me rest if I didn't get an autograph and as I grabbed a cocktail napkin and made a bee-line for Keith, I remembered I had brought my Bible along as a prop. Keith signed it on Deuteronomy 22: 23, chuckling all the while. "I've never signed a Bible before," he said. I pointed out where my bar was and told him I'd loved him since I was 12 and I'd really like to buy him a drink. He smiled, leaned over and whispered to me, "Maybe I'll come over later and give you my confession."

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