At this point, it's probably fair to say it's the title that's most famous about this song. It soon after became the title of a documentary which stands still as a generational monolith. And its primary sentiment—the urgency of the "gimme," the nature of the request—was widely and acutely perceived as shared in that historical moment. You will notice the author of the mashup video I'm pointing to, posted October 5, 2009, would seem to agree, focusing on all the history being made within its general vicinity. So with everybody in agreement this way, it can be a little surprising to sit and listen to it, to figure out what it is and what it does. What matters most is how it feels. More than anything it sounds exhausted, or that's the wrong implication—it sounds like exhaustion. It sounds like how exhaustion feels. The words are not quite there, a rumbling, wailing blur, though "it's just a shot away" is clear enough, ringing out by Merry Clayton. I can't tell you how it makes me feel when I reflect this was recorded only weeks before Altamont (only weeks after Woodstock), particularly when I think of the scenes from the documentary. But I suspect it provokes feelings in others as well. Those tender, tentative notes Keith Richards picks out to open it, the soaring background vocals as the elements start to kick in, the way it assembles itself by pieces, until finally it is a rock song, if still somewhat shambolic. It's never loud, no matter how much you turn it up. It is a great and powerful whimpering, and can leave one a little sick and usually quite uncomforted. A remarkable document.
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