Some Girls was the Rolling Stones' resurrection. Goaded by punk, disco, and the threat of Keith Richards' impending incarceration (eventually deferred) they threw aside their mid-'70s lethargy and returned with a snarling, rocking fightback.

This month's MOJO magazine throws the spotlight on the Stones' rambunctious '70s, with brand new interviews with Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, Charlie Watts, Bill Wyman and Ron Wood, concluding with a detailed look at Some Girls, featuring unseen shots by fashion photography legend Helmut Newton.

MOJO's James McNair welcomes Halloween with a selection of music to scare your pants off.

Asked what tunes make them feel happy, sad, horny or uplifted, most folks can reel off examples. Ask them to name pieces of music that scare the living bejesus out of them, though, and brows tend to furrow. From "The Monster Mash" to the groovy exorcism service offered by Ray Parker Jr's theme from Ghostbusters, pop, at least, tends to de-fang the purportedly terrifying. Dig deeper, though, and there is some genuinely frightening music underfoot, its ability to unsettle us tied to personal associations or some inherently scarifying trait of the arrangement or lyric.

How did it feel to be Bobby Pickett whenever October rolled around? The 11-month wait for the coffin lid of your career to creak open and release your one cobwebbed hit. A hit resistant to each decade's trends, whether Bee Gees or Nirvana or Coldplay. A hit that sold over 4 million copies. That must've felt pretty good, royalty check-wise.

But year after year, to be onstage wearing a blood-smeared lab coat and singing in a hammy Karloff accent about "Dracula and his son?" That must've gotten old.

Pickett kept a good sense of humor about it, though. He called himself "the Guy Lombardo of Halloween." He welcomed visitors to his website with: "Bobby 'Boris' Pickett is available year round and can be dug up to appear and sing a medley of his hit."

Pickett never wanted to be a singer. When he moved to Hollywood in the early 1960s, it was to become an actor. His resumé included a knack for impersonations--the best of which was horrormeister Boris Karloff.

As Bobby hustled for acting jobs,

For our George Harrison commemorative issue, MOJO's Michael Simmons spoke to Harrison's former bandmate Paul McCartney about their musical life together. While quotes from it form part of the enormo George profile in the MOJO magazine that hits US stores shortly, this is the director's cut of their interview.

MOJO: Louise Harrison [George's sister] told me that their parents taught them to be trusting and that when George was young, he was a very trusting person. She implied that it made him vulnerable. Does that ring true?

PAUL McCARTNEY: I would think of it more like loyal. Trusting? Mmm, I don't know. His elder sister would see him differently than his contemporary mates on the street would. So it depends what you're talking about. If it was charlatans, he would definitely not be trusting and he was quick to spot them. But he was a very loyal guy; anybody he liked he was very loyal to. [laughs] But there were a lot of things he didn't trust. He was super-canny. He had an eye out for

In 1958, Frank Sinatra famously described rock'n'roll lyrics as "imbecilic reiteration... written for the most part by cretinous goons." He didn't name names, but you can bet that he was thinking about the rash of nonsensical hits that year, from "Yakety Yak" to "Splish Splash" to "Bimbombey."

Though nonsense songs had been around for centuries - from rum dum diddles in Renaissance ballads to scoodly-wops in the Swing Era - they really started sh-booming in the '50s and '60s (even Sinatra gave in with his Rat Pack hit "Ring-A-Ding-Ding". Sometimes the nonsense was code for sexual antics. Other times it described a new dance step. But more often it was just a way to convey the inarticulate yawp of "I'm alive, dammit!"

While there has been a steady decline in nonsense songs over the past forty years, the occasional "Izzo" or "Boom Boom Pow" pops up to remind us of their powerful charms.

For your listening and viewing pleasure, here are MOJO's ten favorites:

"Tutti Frutti" - Little

She became a byword for excess, but MOJO knew her as a genuine artist with soul to burn. By MOJO Editor-In-Chief Phil Alexander

Despite her battle with alcohol and drugs which has been so well publicised over the last six years, the confirmation of the death of Amy Winehouse this afternoon (July 23) was both shocking and pitiful.

The 27 year-old singer was found dead at her flat in North London by parademics who attended the scene following a call to the singer's property at 3.54pm.

The Metropolitan Police issued a statement that reads: "Police were called by London Ambulance Service to an address in Camden Square, NW1, shortly before 16.05hrs today, Saturday 23 July, following reports of a woman found deceased. On arrival officers found the body of a 27-year-old female who was pronounced dead at the scene. Enquiries continue into the circumstances of the death. At this early stage it is being treated as unexplained."

Winehouse's death comes after the singer's disastrous return to

A debate is now erupting on Twitter and Facebook following Beyoncé's show at Glastonbury. On Sunday night Jo Wiley gushed that Beyonce was the "first woman ever to headline at Glastonbury". Beyoncé took the ball and ran with it, declaring onstage "I'm the first woman... etc". And now Piers Morgan in his TV interview with the star is reiterating it. Does no one check their facts? Previous female headliners on the main stages have included Skin (Skunk Anansie), Björk, Meg White (White Stripes), Shirley Manson (Garbage), Candida Doyle (Pulp), Sinead O'Connor, Suzanne Vega and Joan Baez. Even Shakespeare's Sister headlined Saturday night on Pyramid Stage in 1992.

Granted, Beyoncé delivered a fantastic performance on Sunday - from the stuttering energy of "Single Ladies (Put A Ring On It)" to a moving rendition of Etta James' "At Last" (complete with footage of civil rights protest and President Obama), to a vast singalong Halo. There was some grumbling before her appearance about the

After 43 years The Fugs return to London. America's legendary subversive rockers are curator Ray Davies' special guests at this year's Meltdown Festival. Playing the Southbank Centre this Saturday, June 11 are the current Fugs, together since 1985: guitarist/singer Steven Taylor, bassist Scott Petito, drummer/singer Coby Batty and, of course, singer/co-founder/guiding light/poet/journalist/novelist/activist Ed Sanders. Missing will be Sanders' partner-in-rhyme Tuli Kupferberg, the beloved singer, poet, and performance artist who passed away last year at age 86. The band will perform a homage Sanders wrote for this occasion called In Honor Of Tuli. With songs like "Group Grope," "CIA Man," "Slum Goddess," and "Coming Down," as well as the aching ballad "Morning Morning" and "collaborations" with William Blake like "Ah, Sunflower Weary Of Time," the Fugs embody the history of bohemia in one outrageous rock 'n' roll band. MOJO spoke to Chief Fug Ed Sanders from his home in Woodstock, New