HOT RODS:

Known for his tart tongue, Stewart livens up “Storyteller” with a witty set of liner notes chronicling “my illustrious, albeit chequered musical past.” A few highlights:

* “Good Morning Little School Girl.” Twas a typically cold, wet London morning in the year 1964 when a thin, slightly nervous lad of 19 made his way enthusiastically via public transport to his first recording session. On arrival, he announced himself proudly forthwith. A secretary with a face like a bag of chisels looked up in dismay and replied, ‘Rod who?”’

Crestfallen but unbowed, the lad once again offered his name. “Ah yes,” said the secretary, looking up from her diary. “I’m sorry to inform you, er, Mr. Stewart, but I’m afraid you’re exactly one week early for your recording appointment.”

* “In a Broken Dream.” This was only meant to be a demo, which I did for a friend in exchange for a new set of carpets for my automobile. He was a car salesman trying to enter the field of rock ‘n roll management--a lethal combination.

* “Street Fighting Man.” What on earth led me to record this song I’ll never know. In fact, it was actually meant to be a song by Little Richard called “The Girl Can’t Help It” but for some apparent reason I started singing “Street Fighting Man,” adding much confusion to an already bewildered band.

* “The First Cut is the Deepest.” A Cat Stevens song, let it be known, recorded at Muscle Shoals. As I recall, nobody knew how the song went, apart from myself, so a phone call was made to L.A. and some madman had to go out and buy it, rush back and play it on the phone with seven guys crowded ‘round the receiver at the other end.

* “Love Touch.” This is one of the silliest songs I’ve ever recorded. Though hugely successful, I can’t bring myself to sing it in concert.

* “The Killing of Sister Georgie.” On live performances of this song, with my good self on acoustic guitar, a New York street scene was erected on stage with a full-size lamppost lowered from above. On one particular night I stood by mistake underneath the descending lamppost, which struck me on the shoulder and caused me to stumble and fall in front of 18,000 people. Neither the song nor the lamppost has been heard of since.