Despite their seminal importance in rock history- institutionally memorialized as Rock and Roll Hall of Fame laureates; eco nom ical ly powerful for almost half a century through outstanding market success and clever product and tour management; and, most important, for the durability of their roots- derived musical template- Rolling Stones have never been the recipients of a detailed examination commensurate to their musical infl uence and cultural range. Academic surveys of rock music, typically or ganized by album or a genre- based chronological narrative, usually conclude their discussion of the Stones' music in the 1970s, thus ignoring the cyclic and dynamic pro cesses of revival, the powerful communities created by downloading and sharing, the new listening and viewing strategies enabled by mobile technology, YouTube, and remixing- all of these the main ingredients, would argue, for determining long- standing cultural signifi cance in pop ular music.1 And while the foundational musical role played by the Stones during the En glish blues revival of the early 1960s is an unalterable part of the group's history, the question remains of how and why the blues- a moribund, culturally distant, and racially distinct vernacular music- became a point of reference for the synthetic, materialistic, and evanescent culture of London during the early sixties. To answer this, we need to consider the refraction of Rolling Stones- the group and its music- that took place through the third- party industries of art, lm, and pop u lar fashion. Peter Whitehead's close and complicated relationship to the group during the 1960s and early 1970s, as chronicled through many completed and proposed projects, has left a fascinating documentary paper trail that offers valuable insights into these questions. Performer, Audience, Cultural Critic What call third- party is a crucial stage in the circuit of repre sen ta tion since it visually translates music into culture. Performers, as the fi rst party, are traditionally reluctant about ascribing meaning to songs and making pronouncements about their cultural signifi cance. Bob Dylan, uncomfortable with the sobriquet attached to him as The Voice of a Generation, remembered in his Chronicles that in 1968, All I'd ever done was sing songs that were dead straight and expressed powerful new realities. had very little in common with and knew even less about a generation that was supposed to be the voice of. I'd left my hometown only ten years earlier, wasn't vociferating the opinions of anybody. My destiny lay down the road with what ever life invited, had nothing to do with representing any kind of civilization.2 More bluntly, following the release of the Stones' 1971 album Sticky Fingers, Keith Richards similarly minimized the alleged meanings (in this case, references to drugs) that became attached to his songs: I don't think Sticky Fingers is a heavy drug album . . . mean, you can't take a fucking record like other people take a Bible. It's only a fucking record, man.3 In short, the consideration of cultural meaning is usually not of primary importance by new groups. But, at the same time, rock musicians can no longer retreat to the studio and avoid public scrutiny or interpretation, as Beatles did in 1966, and enclose themselves within the privacy of their technology. Instead, the music and lyrics of performers are now categorized and classifi ed, interpreted aesthetically, and judged subjectively by a global second party consisting of consumers and fans. This level is where selection, discernment, and community take place: it represents the choices and commentary made by listeners of the music, with many variants of personal uses and listening strategies. This second party has now branched into powerful communities, active in sharing, distributing, and blogging, and constituting both the economic and fan base of the group. Where the translation of pop u lar music into culture occurs at an immediate level is with the third- party experience that captures both the group and its fan base. …