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Like the thermographic photos of the on the album cover, Emotional Rescue is a portfolio of burned-out cases and fire trails. High-contrast patterns of familiar outlines and blackened patches where the heat has burned and gone, these photographs — like pictures of corpses from some holocaust — are practically unrecognizable. Autocad Land Desktop 2009 Crack Download. As far as the music goes, familiar is an understatement. There's hardly a melody here you haven't heard from the Stones before. But then that's nothing new.

I'd rather be reminded of Between the Buttons by the venal, high-speed whine of 'She's So Cold' than revisit 'Miss You' outtakes by way of the interminable 'Dance (Pt. 1),' but there are plenty of rooms available at the current memory motel. Still, the Stones' sound is so identifiable that it's hard to remember how carefully they've developed it: the just-shrillenough blend of harmonica and sax, the similarly gruff treble in their forced high harmonies. And I should tell you about the changes. Mick Jagger sings in falsetto, someone who sounds like a bad Bob Dylan (my God, it's Keith Richards!) takes a snuffling lead vocal and special guest Max Romeo does a bird chant. But you know as well as I do that nobody talks about the musical innovations on a Stones or Dylan record unless the artists themselves have run out of things to say. One thing's for sure: Emotional Rescue isn't the newsbreak that 1978's Some Girls was.

The Rolling Stones haven't suddenly gone salsa (in spite of some south-of-the-border horns). Old hands haven't stepped out of early retirement to show cocky young punks exactly how best to offend, and radio censors won't have a case. In place of the ethnic and sexual slurs of the earlier LP's title tune (meant, I've always thought, as a sendup of liberal etiquette), Emotional Rescue extends an open invitation to foreigners: 'She could be Roumanian/She could be Bulgarian/She could be Albanian./Send her to me.' If the Stones have adopted a gentlemanly attitude these days, their prime concerns — sex and money — are the proletariat's, too. But when Mick Jagger is desperate enough to mail-order lovers wholesale, you can't help but wonder who's supposed to be rescuing whom.

At least he has fun with the idea. 'I will be your knight in shining armor,' he intones at the end of the title track, sounding like a high-priced fantasy gigolo gone silly with the strain. After nearly eighteen years of well-paid nights and approximately twenty-seven albums of acted out desires, maybe these guys can't help getting lust and cash confused.

That was a long time ago. But even two years back. Some Girls still had a good bit of impudent, anticipatory spark — or at least an experienced. I told-you-so air that was second best. With its fusion of redneck rudeness and elegant, discofied languor (and its honking, conspicuous New York orientation). Some Girls placed itself near the front of the Old Guard.

The stubborn self-respect of 'Before They Make Me Run,' the tough but good-humored sexual irony of 'Beast of Burden' and the impeccable yet slightly melancholy arrogance of 'Miss You' suggested a prime of life in which hearts and minds could survive against both power and possessions and continue to make rock & roll. These songs seemed to be saying that wit, anger and the ability to move fast would keep you alive.

And Sugar Blue's harmonica gave you all the tenderness you needed. Nowadays, Sugar Blue is buried in the mix, and there's a weird sort of powerlessness in even the funniest numbers.

('She's So Cold,' 'Send It to Me' and the title cut are Emotional Rescue's standouts.) Lovers leave or turn reluctant for no explicable reason. And for all the Stones' tongue-in-cheek insistence that ladies are commodities to be mail-ordered or tinkered with, it doesn't seem to make them any easier to control. ('I tried rewiring her,' Mick Jagger sings in 'She's So Cold.' 'I think her engine is permanently stalled.'