Clever title. The Stones have been hyping the bad-boy street interpretation: The colloquial diamonds are the bits of window glass left behind after a smash-and-grab in the impoverished central-London borough of Hackney. Given a squint, though, the gems in question are mostly rough remakes of Stones classics, assembled into a veiled best-of package. The new songs therefore become overbeaten horses -- hackneyed diamonds.
Which doesn't mean you can't slap a new coat on Old Paint. Producer Andrew Watt proved he could wield the brush when he produced Ozzy Osbourne's "Patient Number Nine" last year, sliding in Eric Clapton on a Cream clone, and Tony Iommi on a Black Sabbath celebration.
Unlike Clapton and Iommi, at least the Stones share tunesmithing credits with Watt on the thumpin' lead single, "Angry," which derives heavily from "Start Me Up" and bleeds grungy lead guitar from Keith and Woody. Watt also scores a credit for the tough syncopated reggae-rocker "Get Close" (mean sax solo, James King!), leaving Ron Wood out in the songwriting cold for the entire album despite the tune's obvious origin in Wood's 1974 "I Can Feel the Fire."
Three for the first three tracks: Watt co-writes the best Diamond, "Depending on You," which matches 1973's "Angie" in melody and surpasses it in vulnerability. Many a listener will flash on the young Jagger who squashed women under his thumb and tried to make them cry. Now he's "Depending on You." He's "in a desperate state" ("Angry"). Why does she "Bite My Head Off"? She's always "Driving Me Too Hard." Henpecked cock rock? A heart surgery or two might do that to ya. But Jagger's singing here and throughout is clear, strong and expressive, without making a big deal out of it. Better than ever, maybe. So let the mannish boy grow. The Stones' thug mystique was always just a cape. Some garments don't wear well on a man of 80.
And some wear just fine. "Whole Wide World" manages to darken Chuck Berry and brighten singsong pop into a weird positivity anthem that succeeds despite its Frankensteinian stitchery. Want some vintage Stones disco? No! Nevertheless, you'll be squeezing into your Spandex and sweating the Hustle when "Mess It Up" slams its heavy four-on-the-floor and sets its many hooks; you can always shoot yourself later.
Want some honest-t'-gawd Mick 'n' Keith? The midtempo "Driving Me Too Hard" sounds like Richards' X-Pensive Winos with Mick singing lead, i.e., you hardly miss Keith's own sensitively biting vocals, and if you do, the very next track, "Tell Me Straight," features him fronting some beautifully chiming guitars.
The most ironic track on "Hackney Diamonds" is "Bite My Head Off," a punky cross between the Sex Pistols and the New York Dolls. Not only does the tune sound just like the Dolls' "Just Like Puss 'n' Boots," its guitar solo also pulls off a deliberate Johnny Thunders rip. Thus do the imitated imitate the imitators. (If you want to know who really started punk, tilt an ear to the Stones' 1965 version of "She Said Yeah" -- written by Sonny Bono!)
The appropriations keep coming in more ways than one, as the Stones team with Lady Gaga to revisit "Shine a Light" via the bombastic "Sweet Sounds of Heaven," a more pagan and less sincere prayer for . . . prosperity? "Can't have a light without a little shadow," Mick testifies, and "Hear the gods laughing from above." He can't help it, he's just got to stray from the monotheistic gospel context and become a little satanic majesty once more. Maybe that was the Stones' biggest contribution -- to offer a Lucifer-like freedom from the bondage of an unrighteous God. At the moment, though, the fire just seems like smoke.
The final "Rolling Stone Blues," on the other hand, has substance (and of course history). Watt and Ozzy ended "Patient Number Nine" the same way, with voice, guitar, harmonica and the blues. The Stones tried to give Muddy Waters his due while he was alive, knowing that some debts can't be repaid. But you try.
Musicians who play on this include Bill Wyman, Elton John, Paul McCartney, Stevie Wonder and the late Charlie Watts. Charlie is replaced mostly by Steve Jordan of Keith Richards' X-Pensive Winos, and his big whomp fits in well; Andrew Watt gives him plenty of bottom to fill the seat in a whole different way.
The sound is modern, digital, nasty. It seems impossible to duplicate the warm vibe of a '70s studio on today's equipment without having it come off weak and flat, so the best course is just to accentuate what state-of-the-art digital boxes do well: massive bass, crisp edges, lots of layering. So plenty of energy flies off "Hackney Diamonds," which could be recorded quickly and messed with later. Andrew Watt knows how to do this. Probably he also gave some nudges on the songwriting, which exhibits the kind of structural craft and lyric care not always evident on Stones projects.
If they don't make another record, they're not going out on a clinker. Even "Dreamy Skies" -- what is this, an airline commercial? Do we really want a postcard from Mick's vacation? At least we can dig the guitars.