It was 1964. London was vibrating. In a small, dimly lit room, a seventeen-year-old girl with a blonde fringe and a convent-school aura sat across from two of the most ambitious men in rock history. She was barely out of her teens. She hadn’t even recorded a single note. Yet, the song they handed her—As Tears Go By by Marianne Faithfull—wouldn't just become a hit; it would define the "Chanteuse" archetype for the next sixty years.
People think they know this story. They think it's just a Rolling Stones B-side that got lucky. Honestly? It's way messier than that.
The Accident of "As Tears Go By"
Andrew Loog Oldham was a man who saw stars where others saw teenagers. He was managing The Rolling Stones and desperately needed them to stop covering Chuck Berry and start writing their own checks. He famously locked Mick Jagger and Keith Richards in a kitchen, telling them not to come out until they had a song.
They emerged with something... soft. Too soft for the Stones' gritty, blues-obsessed image at the time. It was originally titled "As Time Goes By," but since that was already a legendary jazz standard, Oldham swapped "Time" for "Tears."
Enter Marianne Faithfull.
She was at a party. She was beautiful in a way that made people stop talking. Oldham saw her and immediately decided she was a singer. It didn't matter if she actually could sing yet; she had the look. When she stepped into the studio to record As Tears Go By by Marianne Faithfull, she brought a fragile, upper-class melancholy that the Stones couldn't have mimicked if they tried.
It was a strange session. Jimmy Page was there on guitar—yes, that Jimmy Page—and the arrangement was heavy on the oboe and strings. It sounded like a baroque daydream. When the record dropped, it hit the Top 10 in the UK and launched her career into a stratosphere she wasn't entirely prepared for.
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Why the 1964 Version Hits Different
If you listen to the 1964 recording today, it sounds like a ghost.
Faithfull’s voice is high, clear, and almost unnervingly innocent. She sounds like she’s reading a diary entry she doesn't quite understand yet. The lyrics—all about watching children play and feeling the weight of the evening—are weirdly mature for a girl who was still technically a minor.
"It is the evening of the day / I sit and watch the children play"
There’s a profound disconnect there. That disconnect is exactly why it worked. It captured the end of innocence just as the Sixties were starting to get dark.
The 1987 "Broken" Re-recording
Fast forward two decades. The innocence is gone. The convent schoolgirl is a survivor of heroin addiction, homelessness, and a brutal public breakup with Mick Jagger.
In 1987, Faithfull re-recorded As Tears Go By by Marianne Faithfull for her album Strange Weather. If the 1964 version was a watercolor painting, the 1987 version was a charcoal sketch in the rain. Her voice had dropped an octave. It was raspy, cracked, and full of the "tears" the lyrics had promised years earlier.
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This is the version most critics point to when they talk about her brilliance. You can hear the scars. When she sings "Doing things I used to do, they think are new," it’s no longer a teen pondering the future. It’s a woman looking at the wreckage of the past.
It's rare for an artist to be haunted by their debut single in a way that actually makes the art better. Usually, they just get sick of playing the hits. Faithfull grew into the song. She lived enough life to finally earn those lyrics.
The Stones vs. Faithfull: Who Owned It?
The Rolling Stones eventually recorded their own version in 1965. It’s fine. It’s iconic. Jagger sings it with a sort of detached, cool irony.
But it never felt as "real" as the Faithfull version. For the Stones, it was a stylistic experiment—a "look what we can do" moment. For Marianne, it was her identity. It’s the difference between someone wearing a costume and someone wearing their own skin.
There's a lot of debate among vinyl collectors about which version is superior. The Stones' version has that classic 12-string acoustic jangle, but Faithfull’s 1964 original has an eerie stillness. It feels like a secret.
Why It Still Matters in 2026
We live in an era of hyper-processed vocals. Everything is tuned. Everything is perfect.
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As Tears Go By by Marianne Faithfull stands as a reminder that mood beats technique every single time. She wasn't a powerhouse vocalist like Dusty Springfield. She didn't have the range of Cilla Black. What she had was vibe.
The song has been covered by everyone from Nancy Sinatra to Avenged Sevenfold (seriously). It’s a standard. But it remains tethered to Marianne because she represents the two extremes of the song: the youthful observation of sadness and the aged experience of it.
How to Truly Appreciate the Track
If you want to understand the impact of this song, you have to do a side-by-side listen. It's a masterclass in how time changes art.
- Listen to the 1964 Original: Focus on the oboe. Notice how her voice almost floats above the track. It’s delicate. It’s "The Girl on a Motorcycle" era.
- Listen to the 1987 Strange Weather Version: Turn it up. Listen to the cigarette smoke in her throat. Notice how the tempo feels slower, even if it isn't. The weight of the world is in that performance.
- Watch the 2017 Live Performances: Faithfull performed this song well into her 70s. By then, it wasn't just a song; it was a testament.
As Tears Go By by Marianne Faithfull isn't just a 1960s relic. It’s a blueprint for the "sad girl pop" that dominates charts today. Without Marianne’s whispery, melancholic delivery, you don't get Lana Del Rey. You don't get the quiet intensity of Billie Eilish.
It all started with a teenage girl in a studio, singing words written by her future boyfriend and his best friend, about a life she hadn't lived yet. She lived it eventually. And we got to hear the result.
To truly understand the legacy of 1960s British pop, look past the loud guitars and the screaming fans. Look at the girl sitting alone, watching the children play, and realizing that the evening of the day comes for everyone.
Check out the original Decca mono recordings if you can find them. The "wall of sound" approach Andrew Loog Oldham tried to mimic works best when the digital polish is stripped away. It sounds more human that way. It sounds like Marianne.