Bag of Tricks
Baby with a Machin
Awkward
Arranging a Hit
Aren’t Brochachos
Are You Feeling Lu
Are We Gonna Live
Apple in the Garde
Appearances are De
Anything Could Hap

Banana Etiquette
Battle Royale
Beg, Barter, Steal
Betrayals Are Goin
Betraydar
Big Bad Wolf
Big Balls, Big Mou
Big Trek, Big Trou
Big Win, Big Decis
Blackmail or Betra
Bamboozled," the song became a minor hit that summer. And it's easy to see why. The song is in no way revolutionary. It's a pretty standard love ballad that doesn't stray far from the pop norms of the day. But it is undeniably catchy. In fact, "Bamboozled" almost immediately started to enjoy a life of its own outside the confines of the _The Lonely Guy_ soundtrack. The tune first took off on its own in a number of high school and college campuses, where it found favor with a number of young women on various campuses. And they were not alone. "The 'Bamboozled' song became one of my favorites. It fit right in with the time of my life," recalled Michael Catherman, son of director Francis Ford Coppola. And while that time might have been the mid-1970s, more than a few of the kids rocking out to this song were certainly not going to Woodstock, either. On January 21, 1975, in the tiny town of Oyster Bay on Long Island, the Rolling Stones made their _Saturday Night Live_ debut. On its own, this was nothing newsworthy—the Stones had performed many times over the years on various variety shows, always with little impact or fanfare. This particular show, however, was different. The show drew rave reviews and a sizable audience, nearly 10 million viewers, one of the top-rated shows of the night. It also made the group the first rock group to perform live on national network television in nearly thirty years. Still, it wasn't until the Stones appeared on the late-night news, at 7:00 a.m., that the band drew attention for the first time on a mainstream level. The Stones were performing their greatest-hits album, _Let It Bleed_ , and were playing one of the great live performances of the album, the cut "Brown Sugar." It was a good time for the Stones, who were playing before and during the end of the Super Bowl. The band's set even earned a rave review from sports columnist Jim Murray in the _New York Daily News_. As for the _SNL_ appearance, it wasn't the start of a career renaissance for the Stones, at least as far as record sales were concerned. The show was simply a way for the band to be plugged in to a younger generation of record buyers. The Stones, like other acts, were making a concerted effort to reach young music fans, even as they continued to play to older fans, a task made easier by their extensive history and back catalogue. Of course, this did nothing to put a dent in their current stardom. Or their continued commercial appeal. But the band was also looking to the future, something that's key when artists decide to make the concerted effort to engage with a younger generation. The Stones had always done that. It was just something that wasn't always obvious. But in the case of _SNL_ , it might have been too obvious. _SNL_ and MTV were both relatively new entities at the time, meaning that the band had neither been on television nor on MTV, even if the band's videos were ubiquitous throughout popular culture. Even if this had been in the band's plans, _SNL_ 's appearance was the only outlet for them. "I only wish that Mick and the boys had kept their original plan of releasing 'Brown Sugar' in all its live brilliance rather than the diluted, sound-engineered 'Let It Bleed' version," mused Murray. It wasn't a bad idea, to be sure, but it wasn't as if other artists weren't already doing it, including Elvis and the Beatles. The song simply didn't need to be fleshed out by studio musicians. It also didn't need to be re-recorded for _SNL_. But that's exactly what the band did. Perhaps it was their experience on the show. In that time, the band had seen one of their most acclaimed recordings, _Their Satanic Majesties Request_ , recorded at the end of an era when the band had been known as the greatest of their era, at least in terms of critical acclaim and commercial success. The band was ready to shift into the future, and they were doing so as they would—consciously and creatively, as a unit. The band was no longer concerned with what critics, peers, and fans thought about them. Their plan was to shift into the future. And in doing so, they were willing to discard anything, including a signature sound, in order to realize their plan. But the most famous members of the Stones weren't the only ones thinking about this on their 1975–1976 tour. Most of the band's new generation of young followers, including the kids who would go on to become the most visible and devoted fans of the group, understood that the Stones were looking to the future, whether the fans wanted them to or not. Mick and the boys—that is, Mick Jagger and Keith Richards—were willing to experiment with a band lineup that had never been seen in the past. And they were willing to consider the future of the music as well, to make sure that they didn't get left behind in the process. "Let's just say that that wasn't going to happen without a fight," said Richards, who was already in full on war mode in 1975. "The idea of trying to go in and make a new Stones album, or any kind of LP . . . it was already becoming obsolete. So we decided to turn our musical focus towards the old-fashioned album. A whole album of songs. One continuous piece. No breaks in the music." This was a major shift. There was simply no precedent for it in the music world. And for Richards and the other members of the band, this wasn't about playing with a band lineup or music for the sake of it, like some of their contemporaries. This was about trying to keep up with what was happening outside of the band. "I knew what I wanted," said Richards. "But they wouldn't commit themselves to anything. They just wanted to do individual songs, and then they'd play live. I understood that [the band's breakup] would have nothing to do with me not wanting to play with them. All I needed was a statement of commitment." The band was ready to write and record a number of new albums in the future, as well as perform new material—but only as a unit. And they were willing to make big changes that they had never made before. There was only one problem. Mick and the boys were already a highly successful band. What they weren't looking to do was remake the world around them. "Let's go to work on something that's pretty fucking new. And we've got to really do it now because our last two records have been pretty damn good. They're still big records. So we've got to get down on our knees and make this really fucking new. But let's also get into gear and make it work." "It seemed at that point like they were ready to make a completely new record," recalled Steve Jordan, drummer for the band's 1975 tour. "Mick did play some bass with a pick at the _SNL_ show, and he made a big deal about not using any music other than the Stones' music, and I agreed with him. Then I figured out they just might be moving in a different direction. But I never thought they would leave forever. I figured the old guys would always be able to return. Because they always did, didn't they? It had to be something really special for them not to." # **"Rudy's not here to dance."** So says one of the characters in the 1967 film _The Graduate_ to another, played by Charles, an uncontrollably energetic and seemingly naive Benjamin Braddock. The joke becomes obvious when Charles says that he is ready to leave and Ben can't help but continue to dance in the middle of the room. In real life, Benjamin Braddock would not have been a likely subject of one of the most well-known monologues of the 1960s, since he never achieved a level of notoriety that might have caused him to come up in conversation. And there's a good reason for that. Unlike the fictional Benjamin Braddock, Braddock never really got into "The Graduate." The twenty-three-year-old Braddock was on track to attend college, had a relationship, and was in the process of earning his bachelor's degree. So while the idea of the young Benjamin Braddock might have come up in conversation in the 1960s, he would not have come up as a subject of concern. And this is one of the reasons why The Stones didn't need to bring Braddock into the conversation. At the end of the day, there was nothing to worry about. His absence was just as likely as the presence of anyone else, in terms of the band's desire to shift into the future and look toward the future. The band knew how to move forward. And Braddock had made his way into the music world on his own, as he'd always done. It's true that The Stones had always been a part of Braddock's life, whether it was in terms of hearing about them