Summer, 1971.

Inside the frame, Keith lights a cigarette. His lithe shirtless body pours upward from a pair of lose linen trousers. Anita Pallenberg, the mother of his child, turns her head to face him.

Inside another frame, Mick blows smoke through pursed lips. A bottle of wine rests half full on a table strewn with empty cups. Eye half closed, he listens as Keith strums the guitar.

Light floods the balcony and bounces off a bowl of apples. A pine tree in the background. Someone is singing. A blonde haired child curls his feet beneath him in the chair.

Inside the frame, the men in bright coloured trousers pose in the corner of a bare studio. Charlie cocks his leg. Mick yawns.

Youthful, cool, eyes expectant. Five Stones wait for the shutter to click, and the bulb to flash.

Photographers Dominique Tarle and Peter Webb spent 1971 making the Rolling Stones look their best. But, asks Charlotte Simmonds, who’s really to blame for the legend the band left behind, them or us?

In this double interview, Webb and Tarle share memories and reflections on a summer of rock & roll in London and the south of France.