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Rolling Stones songs: All Down the Line
I need a shot of salvation, baby, once in a while…
Written by: Jagger/Richard Recorded: Rolling Stones Mobile, Nellcote, France, June-Nov. 1971; Sunset Sound Studios, Los Angeles, USA, Dec. 1971-March 1972; RCA Studios, Los Angeles, USA, March 1972 *Data taken from Martin Elliott’s book THE ROLLING STONES COMPLETE RECORDING SESSIONS 1962-2012
Mick Jagger: vocals Keith Richards: rhythm guitar, backing vocals Mick Taylor: slide guitar Bill Wyman: bass Charlie Watts: drums Guest musicians: Nicky Hopkins (piano), Bobby Keys (saxophone), Jim Price (trumpet and trombone), Jimmy Miller (percussion), Kathi McDonald (background vocals)
Few Rolling Stones songs capture the feeling of forward motion quite like All Down the Line. From its opening riff, the track sounds built for movement—restless, urgent, and unapologetically raw. Anchoring the fourth side of Exile on Main St., it embodies the album’s scruffy brilliance, where groove mattered more than gloss and instinct ruled the session. This is the Stones in their element, leaning hard into rhythm, attitude, and momentum.
Beyond the studiothe song evolved into a live powerhouse, earning its place as one of the band’s most reliable stage burners. Played consistently across decades of touring, it bridged eras, surviving lineup changes, shifting trends, and ever-larger audiences. Few songs traveled so easily from basement recording rooms to stadium-sized performances.
Part of the song’s lasting appeal lies in its contradictions: loose yet focused, celebratory yet restless. All Down the Line doesn’t seek resolution—it keeps moving, just like the Rolling Stones themselves.
More about All Down the Line by The Rolling Stones
*By Marcelo Sonaglioni
A song that lights the fuse
Like a jolt of electricity snapping through worn cables, All Down the Line erupts with the same reckless confidence that defines the best moments of Exile on Main St.. Positioned to kick open the album’s fourth side, it performs a role similar to Rocks Off and Happy: no easing in, no polite invitation—just immediate momentum. The song feels built to move, to push forward relentlessly, mirroring the restless state of the Rolling Stones at the turn of the 1970s. By this point, the band was less concerned with polish than with feel, less interested in perfection than in capturing something alive.
Keith Richards later framed its creation as a natural extension of Brown Sugar, explaining that his job was to devise riffs and ideas that would spark Mick Jagger’s imagination. That approach gives the track its muscular directness. Everything here surges outward—rhythm, attitude, desire—making All Down the Line not just a song, but a declaration of purpose within the chaotic sprawl of Exile. Notably, despite once being considered as a potential lead single, the song ultimately found its commercial release as the B-side to Happy, reinforcing its role as a hard-driving companion rather than a polished centerpiece.
Writing from the rails
At its lyrical coreAll Down the Linedraws power from one of America’s most enduring symbols: the railroad. Jagger uses it not simply as scenery, but as a living metaphor for motion, longing, and emotional wear. Trains promise escape and progress, yet they also leave devastation in their wake, carrying people away from stability and certainty. Lines like “hear the women sighing” and “hear the children crying” sketch a landscape where movement comes at a human cost. Against this backdrop, the narrator’s desires feel both urgent and knowingly absurd. His plea for a “sanctified girl with a sanctified mind” is delivered with unmistakable irony, blending mock devotion with unmistakable lust. The song constantly balances excess and vulnerability: busting bottles one moment, searching for connection the next. That tension—between bravado and need—keeps the lyrics grounded, preventing them from drifting into caricature. Instead, they reinforce the sense of a man always in transit, emotionally and physically, never fully arriving, always pressing onward.
Keith Richards: “All Down the Line came directly out of ‘Brown Sugar,’ which Mick wrote. Most of what I had to do was come up with riffs and ideas that would turn Mick on. To write songs he could handle.”
From acoustic roots to electric fire
Although it sounds inseparable from the murky thunder of Exile on Main St., All Down the Line had a longer, more fluid evolution. The Stones first explored it in acoustic form back in 1969 during early sessions that would eventually feed into Sticky Fingers, when the song existed more as a framework than a finished statement. It wasn’t until 1971 that the band fully committed to the electric version that would define the track. That revisit proved crucial. By amplifying the song, tightening its groove, and leaning into its straight-ahead rock drive, the Stones transformed it into the first track completed during the Exile sessions.
This moment matters: it shows how Exile wasn’t conceived as a single unified statement from the outset, but rather assembled from fragments, instincts, and rediscoveries.All Down the Line became a bridge between past ideas and present urgency, signaling the raw direction the album would ultimately take while locking in the sound that would dominate its closing stretch.
Engineer Andy Johns: “That was the first one that actually got finished and Mick said, ‘This is a single. This is a single!’ And I thought, ‘He’s out of his fucking mind. This is not a single.’ And he went, ‘Really? Do ya think so?’ And that was the first time I realized, ‘Jesus, he’ll actually listen to me.”
Chaos, collaboration, and the Exile sessions
The circumstances surrounding Exile on Main St. were anything but conventional, and All Down the Linebears the imprint of that disorder. Recording took place primarily at Nellcôte, Keith Richards’ rented villa in the south of France, with additional work later completed at Sunset Sound Studios in Los Angeles. The sessions were defined by irregular schedules and constantly shifting personnel. Band members came and went, often working in isolation rather than as a full unit. Producer Jimmy Miller played a vital role in holding things together, contributing percussion and filling gaps when needed. His hands-on involvement wasn’t unusual—it was essential. During this period, the Stones operated less like a traditional band and more like a loose collective orbiting around unfinished ideas.
The song also benefited from outside voices, notably Kathi McDonald’s backing vocals. Her experience with artists such as Leon Russell and Nicky Hopkins brought a gospel-inflected grit that deepened the track’s emotional range. Even before the album’s release, All Down the Linehad already lived multiple lives, including an early demo shared with a Los Angeles radio station so the band could hear how it sounded blasting from car speakers—a practical test that briefly fueled speculation about its single potential.
A defining Exile statement
In the end All Down the Line endures not because of any single element, but because of how seamlessly its parts collide. The riff-driven force Richards envisioned, Jagger’s restless lyricism, the railway imagery, and the imperfect recording conditions all converge into something greater than the sum of their parts. The song doesn’t try to explain itself or resolve its contradictions. Instead, it thrives on them. That quality makes it a perfect embodiment of Exile on Main St.—an album that resists clarity yet rewards immersion. Even its afterlife reflects this tension: following the album’s release, former manager Allen Klein sued the band, arguing that All Down the Line and several other tracks had been written while Jagger and Richards were still under contract with ABKCO, a dispute that ultimately granted ABKCO publishing rights and a share of the royalties. Despite such complications, when All Down the Line roars into motion, it doesn’t just energize the record’s final stretch—it reaffirms the Stones’ belief that rock’n’roll works best when it’s messy, human, and always moving forward.
Ronnie Wood (1994): “I thought Mick Taylor was a really good slide player. I liked him on things like All Down the Line and Love In Vain, you know.”
A song built for the stage
From the moment All Down the Line entered the Rolling Stones’ live repertoire, it proved itself less like a deep cut and more like a road-tested engine built for motion. Debuting onstage in 1972, the song became a constant presence through the band’s tours until 1981, then returned with renewed force during the Voodoo Lounge era and has remained a fixture ever since. Its blunt drive and elastic groove made it ideal for large stages, where rhythm mattered as much as spectacle. Over the decades, key performances were preserved on film rather than albums, appearing in Ladies and Gentlemen: The Rolling Stones and later in Let’s Spend the Night Together. Ironically, despite its long life as a concert favorite, All Down the Line took years to surface officially in live audio form, finally earning that recognition with later releases such as Shine a Light and Havana Moon, confirming its enduring power in the Stones’ live canon.
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