The Devil And 1969 - Part One

To what extent did the rock stars of 1969 flirt with devil worship? In part 1 of our investigation, Ric Rawlins looks at The Rolling Stones...

Filed in The Rolling Stones, Features, at 18.09pm on 03 February 10

The Rolling StonesSave for Jack White’s cry of ‘get behind me, Satan!’, not many bands these days seem to actively court the sponsorship of the Anti-Christ, the woosies. Not so, of course, the rock and rollers of 1969. Back then, every rock star worth their salt had one hand on the ouija board and the other stroking a pet goat called Zultan.

Some of these rockers were dedicated scholars and owners of occult bookshops, others were simply fuckwits running about in velvet robes. Yet what’s beyond doubt is that many sought the furry handshake of the devil, leading to the philosophically troubling question: were they totally mental?

To put these strange interests in context, it’s worth noting that 1968 saw the climax of a cultural fear that devil worshippers were at work in society, but their evil deeds were protected by the skepticism of the public and fear of ridicule. This ominous theory was reflected in the massively successful movie Rosemary’s Baby.

In this series, we’ll be taking a whiz through what some of the rock stars of 1969 were getting up to, dark arts-wise. Before we start though, a quick disclaimer: I’m less an expert on the occult, more of a schmuck-with-Google. So if you are a black magician, please don’t curse me.

Altamont
As good a place to start as any is the Rolling Stones - and their concert on the Altamont speedway in 1969. It's a gig that many associate with murder and violence more than music - and it occurred just three months after Woodstock; the legendary hippie climax.

There's a fantastic but depressing film of the Altamont concert. The documentary Gimme Shelter shows both the murder that took place in front of the stage (as well as the violence and hysteria that led up to it) in sobering clarity. Even watching the film today you can grasp a sense of the oppressive aggression and plain sadness at work within the Stones' free festival.

From the outset, Mick Jagger is wearing a black t-shirt with one simple icon printed in the middle of it: an upside-down horseshoe. Could this be the mark of the beast?

A common interpretation of the horseshoe symbol is that it brings good luck. The arch should, however, be at the bottom (like a cup) to contain the luck. Jagger's horseshoe is reversed - a symbol more associated with the spilling of luck. So far, so naughty. But was the t-shirt to blame for all the murder and violence? Erm, no. It’s just a t-shirt, you weirdo.


Jagger’s interest in Satanic mythology on the other hand, was arguably quite real. In the song 'Sympathy for the Devil' he asks us to "just call me Lucifer", literally taking on the role. According to Sheila Whitely of the University of Salford; "As the angel who rebelled against God, he (Satan) is the embodiment of the ultimate rebel and, as such, must have exerted a strong appeal for Jagger” (Frith and McRobbie in Frith and Goodwin, 1990, 370)."

But there was further evidence that the singer was dabbling in the dark arts: the film maker Kenneth Anger was openly influenced by both the magician Aleister Crowley and Anton LaVey, the founder of the Church of Satan. In 1969, Anger released a movie called Invocation of My Demon Brother, soundtracked by Jagger. According to a blogger on the IMDB website, the film is “the work of evil hippies”.

So, did the Stones repent? Did Altamont make them stroke their chins and about turn? Did the forces of Cliff Richard prevail? Alas no: three years later they released a record called Goat’s Head Soup, with a photo of said creature’s head bobbing up and down in cauldron on the sleeve. Linda McCartney would have been delighted.

READ PART TWO

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