A minor classic, in which the lyrics are all Cajun, but here somehow the beat starts to go all Mexicali. Chuck is paying the white-boy backup band minimum wage, no doubt.
You might prefer Johnny B. Goode with Bruce and the E-Street Band. Vas-y, Johnny, vas-y.
An appreciation by Bill Wyman, who turns out NOT to be the Stones' bassist. It goes to show you never can tell.