Before Mick Jagger and Keith Richards became the immortal 'Glimmer Twins' of rock ‘n’ roll, their songwriting career almost derailed before it began — all because of a clean-cut pop crooner in a tailored suit. Gene Pitney, a name rarely shouted at Stones concerts today, accidentally lit the fuse that would launch one of music’s most explosive duos. But here’s where history gets spicy: the Stones’ first chart success wasn’t even performed by them. Let’s unpack how a Motown-inspired B-side, a locked room showdown, and a little-known deal with Decca Records shaped rock’s greatest partnership.
Back in 1963, The Rolling Stones were still scrappy kids playing Chicago blues covers in smoky clubs. Their manager, Andrew Loog Oldham — a 19-year-old whirlwind with a knack for spotting talent —knew the band needed original material to survive. Inspired by Lennon-McCartney’s meteoric rise, he took drastic action: locking Jagger and Richards in a room together until they wrote a song. “Think of it as musical forced labor,” Oldham later joked. But here’s where it gets controversial: neither of them had any clue how to collaborate. Jagger was a shy ballad writer; Richards, a blues purist. Their first attempts? Awkward, overly sentimental duds. One early track, ‘As Tears Go By’, was so un-Stones-like that it became a hit for Marianne Faithfull — Jagger’s girlfriend at the time — instead. But that’s not the song that put their names on the map.
Enter Gene Pitney. A polished Connecticut-born singer with a knack for dramatic pop, Pitney seemed like the anti-Stones. Yet fate had other plans. While rummaging through Decca’s demo pile, he stumbled on a discarded Jagger-Richards tune originally penned for a session singer named George Bean. Pitney tweaked the melody, renamed it ‘That Girl Belongs to Yesterday’, and turned it into a 1964 UK Top 10 hit. Here’s the twist: The Stones never intended this song for themselves. Its orchestral pop style clashed with their raucous blues vibe — but Pitney’s version proved Jagger and Richards could craft commercial magic. When it peaked at #7, it beat even the Stones’ own single ‘Not Fade Away’ on the charts. For the first time, critics took notice of the duo’s potential.
Now, let’s stir the pot: Was Pitney’s success a lucky break or a calculated move? Some argue Jagger and Richards were still finding their voice, and Pitney’s polish simply made the song marketable. Others whisper that Oldham strategically leaked the track to boost the duo’s credibility. Either way, the payoff was huge. Within a year, the Stones hit #1 with ‘The Last Time’ — a song Richards openly admitted borrowed heavily from a 19th-century gospel hymn. And here’s where most people miss the bigger picture: Pitney’s hit wasn’t just a stepping stone. It proved that Jagger’s lyrical flair and Richards’ instinct for hooks could transcend genres, even if their early attempts leaned into pop’s softer edges.
So, should Gene Pitney be remembered as rock’s unsung hero? Without his gamble on a rejected demo, would Jagger and Richards have kept writing together? The Stones’ legacy — from ‘Satisfaction’ to ‘Exile on Main St.’ — hinges on that one unlikely collaboration. Drop a comment below: Do you think Pitney deserves a spot in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame for this accidental contribution, or is he just a footnote in a much larger story?
