#467 - Bob Dylan - Love and Theft

I’ve been dreading Dylan’s first appearance on the list. While I respect his songwriting, his typically terrible performing of those same songs ruins it for me. No, it’s not the nasal voice or inability to hold a pitch. It’s his poor timing and questionable melodic choices. To reference our last review, he’s more Bernie Taupin than Elton John. No one can question his ability as a poet, though. He’s had some pretty rotten lines, but anyone with his volume of output has to be expected to miss every now and then. So then, how much time was I going to spend with a seemingly permanent wince on my face while listening to “Love and Theft”?

Not too much. Released in 2001 (9-11 actually, in an ironic twist for an album that was practically a love letter to America) by a then sixty year old Robert Zimmerman, this record is a history lesson through music. Touches of swing, ragtime, jazz and Appalachian folk spell out an obsession with all the genres born in the middle states. I’m usually pretty harsh on artists that borrow to heavily from their forbearers, but in this case, Bob is at his best when trying to sound like his inspirations. “High Water” is the highlight for me. A traditional folk song with the group riffing of bluegrass, I love the mix of fingerpicked banjo, steel guitar and accordion. Aside from the ominous blasts of thunderous tympani, one could hear the Carter Family harmonizing this.

“Po’ Boy” is another favorite. It sounds like it could have been played just like this in a bar in New Orleans eighty years ago. Great attention is paid to structure, every part leads perfectly into the next and nothing seems out of place. Personally, I would have replaced the bass with tuba, but otherwise I can’t complain. “Cry A While” follows that with a unique twist on the familiar country blues structure, bouncing back and forth from the laid back brushstroke drumming to an offbeat-heavy jump rhythm. At first it’s jarring, but once it settles in and the band seems to loosen up a bit it becomes a comfortable and natural play on conventions.

Generally, the best songs on this record are the softer and darker ones. Possibly because Dylan’s voice is best suited to the more macabre. I think it’s also because he’s always been a pessimist and a fatalist, it’s only natural for him to convey the morbid side of life more believably. “Sugar Baby” follows that rule with the most sparse arrangement featured here. Acoustic guitar, accordion, a bit of electric guitar and maybe a smidgen of upright bass. I love the lyrics to this one. It’s impossible to pigeonhole them with one clear meaning. It struck me as advice to anyone who chose to listen close enough.

I’m not a big fan of the attempts at swing, jump blues and rock. It’s just not a world that Dylan is comfortable in, and the tempo is too quick for him. The guy that caused a million tongue cramps with “Subterranean Homesick Blues” just can’t keep up and ends up spitting out the words a tad too far behind. Even that can’t ruin the entire thing. I’m a little surprised at some of the praise it received, with one magazine recently naming it the best album of the decade. But it certainly earns a solid amount of glory, and I think this is a pretty good place for it to sit on the list.

Here’s one of the greats of modern reggae, Sizzla, reinterpreting “Subterranean Homesick Blues.”

-tfm

So, Bob Dylan’s Love and Theft, eh? Released on September 4^th, 2001, this album is an ode to American music, ranging from steady Southern blues to 50’s era rock n’ roll. Everywhere in between, we get the same old Bob Dylan except for one glaring addition: Dylan’s voice seems to have broken. Luckily for him (and us), the weary growl he brings to this album is much welcome, providing his listeners with an age old voice to go with his wisdom. He sounds like one who sings songs of “love and theft” should sound. Tired, at times. Upbeat, at other. Whichever song you look at though, Dylan seems to be having fun the entire time.

Mike does a wonderful job of dissecting particular songs in concerns to their respective genre and influences, so I will spare our listeners more of the same. Also, kudos to the big man for leaving his preconceived notions at the door and giving this album a fair chance. I was expecting a diatribe of animosity and hatred. Instead, I was pleasantly surprised at a glowing critique (despite its’ backhanded jabs). Supposedly, this is Bob Dylan’s 43^rd album (studio, live, etc.). Upon reading any review I could find on this album, I came across the same opinions. First, how great this album is. Secondly, how happy and alive Dylan seems to be after a string of performances that came off as lackluster or bored. One might expect this from a person who survived a heart condition scare. What this means to us is that we, as listeners, get the same Dylanesque characters while getting to enjoy an artist who is thoroughly enjoying himself. As the Village Voice review stated, “the poet of his generation is once again prophet of his age.”

I enjoyed this album as I enjoy most great blues albums. I tap my feet to the beat and wish I was at some dive watching it live. This is my greatest love of blues albums as well as my greatest disappointment towards them. I just feel that blues is so much better in person where one can smell the sweat, beer, and heartache. Now, admittedly, Dylan’s foray isn’t as depressed as some of my most beloved blues pieces, but he offers up the same sentiment in his characters. Personally, as someone who considers himself a writer of words, I love lyricists and find few even close to Dylan’s ability and delivery. That being said, I don’t feel overwhelmingly confident about recommending this album to everyone. Instead, I believe its’ greatness lies not in the appeal to millions, but instead those that enjoy reflection and feeling. While not containing such hits as “Like a Rolling Stone,” “Hurricane,” “Mr. Tambourine Man,” etc., this album is a tribute to the music deeply rooted in Americana and a testament of the strength of a great artist. Approval granted.

This kid loves three things: Bob Dylan, the blues, and hammocks???

-d.

#468 - Elton John - Self-titled

I feel like reviewing this album is almost pointless. Who doesn’t already know how brilliant Elton is at his best? If you have never sung along to “Your Song” I probably don’t want to know you. But then. I guess that’s really the only well-known song on this record. As great as this is, it’s not on the level of Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, but for a 23 year old kid on his second record the songs are shocking. Brilliant musicianship thanks to the (literally) dozens of top session artists he brought in. Of course, Bernie Taupin is on of the greatest songwriters of the century, which surely doesn’t hurt. This may not be Elton’s best, but it’s his most challenging and original.

Starting things with “Your Song” was a pretty damn good idea. This was obviously meant to be the single that broke Elton through, and it did the job. One of the all time great vocals, by any artist. It’s the most easily accessible song here, but while it doesn’t ask the listener to look as deeply within themselves as some of the other tracks it still doesn’t lack for emotion. “I Need You To Turn To” seems vaguely like a Led Zeppelin song with all the metal taken out. Very medieval lyrics with beautiful harpsichord work (a very underrated instrument). Lovely.

A burst of gospel brings up the energy in “Take Me to the Pilot”. Another song where the backing crew really shows off. More of today’s solo artists need to higher session guys instead of using synthesizer for everything. This whole album is proof of that. The next few songs show off a huge variety of sounds and styles. Country from “No Shoe Strings on Louise” and some classical guitar on “First Episode At Hienton”. To my great surprise and excitement we even get to hear some theremin on the latter.

The album does have some hit and miss bits. In the middle of “The Cage”, a Stevie Wonder style funk number, they break into one of the most misplaced and dated moog solos I have ever heard. For the most part, while lacking the spark of the first half, the later songs are pretty solid. The decline in inspiration is what keeps this from being Elton’s best, but it doesn’t exactly hurt it too much. At no point was I disappointed while listening, and that’s a freakish rarity for me. All the same, I had high hopes for the B side and they weren’t quite met. Can’t complain, though. This is a great record that deserves it’s placement on the list.

Here’s “Your Song” sung by Billy Paul of “Me and Mrs. Jones” fame.

-tfm

Mike touched upon the greatness of the opening track on Elton John's eponymous second album, but I think he failed to explain exactly what makes this song so unique and amazing. This track is important because, aside from being a love song, it is a song about the impossibility of trying to create something perfect for that perfect someone. What makes Bernie Taupin one of the greatest songwriters of all-time is that he is one of the only people that can make and ode about writing an ode not only appealing, but timeless. The song speaks to the listener, because it could be any one of us writing these lyrics trying our best to explain our love. I've said it before, but this song sums it up like no other: I love simplicity. I'm a sucker for it when it works the way it should. This song is the apex of that idea.

I grew up listening to Elton John. He is my mother's favorite artist and, while most people might grow to hate an artist so beloved by their parents, John holds a much revered spot in my musical arsenal. Perhaps, I'm wrong about that previous statement though. I'm sure the musical likings of your parents can shape your musical talents without creating some sort of immense resentment towards their preferences. Regardless, my mom introduced me to this crazy, piano pounding bastard and I cannot help to thank her for doing so.

I find no fault anywhere on this album. Even the tracks that might appear as "misses" are wonderfully arranged and delivered. Taupin and John are an unbelievable duo. Absolutely unbelievable. I love the gospel of "Take Me To the Pilot" and the medieval pageantry of "I Need You to Turn To." "Sixty Years On" skirts the line of melodrama, but one can't get over how beautifully crafted a piece of work it is. Quite possibly my favorite song (aside from "Your Song") is "Border Song." Love that song. Listen to it all the time and belt that baby out.

Great album. Not Elton's best, but pretty damn good, especially for a second attempt.

Here's a version of "Border Song" by ol' Slowhand himself. This girl needs to be recognized for her attempt of "Sixty Years On." People do stuff like this.

-d.

#469 - Public Image Ltd. - Metal Box

This album is shit. Despite the fact that it showcases musicians who seem to be held in high regard, it sounds like a completely amateur attempt at avant-garde music. Aside from the bass lines (perhaps the only thing that sounds relatively competent), the sound just sounds garbled, random, and erratic. Maybe, this was the point. Whatever. It sounds awful. Every song seems like a carbon copy of the one that precedes it. “Oh hey, let’s get together and make random noises with our guitars, keyboards, etc. and put an annoying dance drum beat to it. That’ll sound great. People will love it.” Some people did. For me, I would rather listen to Smashmouth and that is saying a lot.

Honestly, it’s a testament to my high tolerance for pain that I was able to get all the way through this album and, like most albums thus far, I tried to give it another go, but I just couldn’t do it. This album is utterly unbearable. John Lydon (a.k.a. Johnny Rotton) and his ridiculous bellow made me want to stop listening to music. Again, the drums (aside from being something out of a poor man’s rave) seem haphazard and off-beat. None of the instruments and their respective players seem like they are on the same page. Ugh. I’m done. I can’t even pretend I want to write about this album. It sucks. If you’re one of those people, like the writers of some reviews I read, that praise this album, then you need to have your head examined.

The only redeeming thing about this album was its original packaging. Pretty inventive idea with the whole metal box thing. I also read how supposedly the band wanted to release it in a sandpaper casing, so that when placed next to other records, it would ruin them. Funny.

This is also humorous. Album is still shit though. Wow, just listen to the same riff over and over again.

-d.

Johnny Rotten may be responsible for some of the most overrated music in history. He made a career of being a poser, he never really had interest in the punk scene and only got involved because Malcolm McLaren convinced him he could meet girls and get paid. The idea that the Sex Pistols started punk is offensive. The Stooges and MC5 were playing punk rock in Detroit back in the late 60’s. So what does a guy who has been falsely labeled as a genius who created a genre do to follow up? In Mr. Lydon’s case the answer was to pack himself full of chemicals and wank out a waste of vinyl.

Let me start with the positive. Jah Wobble is a great bass player and influenced a generation of British post-punk groups to experiment with reggae and stylistic changes. That’s it. Everything else here is garbage. Wobble quit over how terrible this music was. Yet, just like the Pistols, the hipsters and posers bought into it and now Danny and I have to listen to it. Assholes.

There isn’t a single guitar part on the record. I don’t mean that there isn’t any guitar, just that instead of playing a riff of chord the guitarist spends the entirety of the album playing completely unconnected noise. The vocals….. Good lord. Off key hollering of senseless words. It’s like the Doors with even less restraint. At least the bass and drums are playing together, even though things are painfully sloppy. On “Bad Baby” the un-credited drummer misses the kick at least five times. As a bassist, I would stab any percussionist that did that. I mean, the whole thing is a sickening mess. My four year old daughter makes up more entertaining songs on the toilet.

“Albatross” may be the worst opener of all time. It honestly has no redeeming values whatsoever. “Socialist” has some moderately interesting computer sounds and benefits from a lack of vocals. There is nothing here I can point to and say “I see what they were trying to get at on this one!”. Reading some of the positive reviews of this album I found online they referred to its experimentation and how they didn’t stick to the standard conventions of pop music. The problem is, those are conventions for a reason. I appreciate not wanting to sound like every other record, but to go to the extreme of becoming Dadaist and essentially spitting in the face of quality is just a lazy attempt at being edgy. There are no boundaries being pushed when you don’t toe the line by at least using whatever talents you may have. I can’t help but imagine what this would have been like if a better group of musicians had taken a stab at it.

Ironically, Rotten was chosen for the Pistols in part because of his “I Hate Pink Floyd” shirt, yet he made a record more pompous and plodding than Roger Waters could have ever dreamed up. I just keep coming back to one word: lazy. This is a man who had chosen to disavow his legacy grasping at whatever he could find, but not wanting to put the effort into making it work. Once again, I find I’m actually angered by a performance on the list. Just a complete waste.

-tfm

#470 - R.E.M. - Document

I’ve never really familiarized myself with the entire collective of R.E.M.’s catalog, but they have always been one of those bands which I liked (based upon their singles). Document offers up two of their greatest radio hits in “It’s the End of the World as We Know It” and “The One I Love.” I don’t feel I need to say much about those two songs, because most of us are familiar with them if we are roughly the age 25-30. For everyone else, younger and older, if you are not familiar with this band, you should be.

Truth is, this album does everything right. It takes the independent music feel of earlier R.E.M. albums (I did some auditory research) and incorporates their newly awarded and stylistic altering ability to create an album that became mainstream without losing those assets that initially made the band unique. It is around this time, that R.E.M. started to dabble in mandolin; an instrument that has made a few appearances in the albums that would follow Document.

I also appreciate the fact that this band had something to say during a time where lyrics seemed to be getting more and more ridiculous (see Def Leppard) and nonsensical (see most 80’s pop groups). Document presents itself as an outcry to society during and after the Reagan administration. It doesn’t take much analyzing to figure out that Stipe and Co. are trying to draw some parallels with history. Is that a senate hearing involving Joseph McCarthy I hear in the background? The band also provides a cover of a song that will appear on a to be reviewed album (Wire’s “Strange”). Ok, I said I didn’t need to mention them, but really, how great are those two radio hits? “The One I Love” is able to be a wonderfully singable tune while being completely melodramatic. And I once saw No Doubt perform “It’s the End of the World as We Know It.” I can’t remember, but I think it was during some New Year’s Eve special during concerns over Y2K. Makes sense. Regardless, although Stipe wasn’t the first, nor the last, to create a rap-rock ramble, his attempt seems to have a lot more to say than most. This might be why the song remains relevant over the years.

Yep, found the No Doubt version. Deduction of points for the fact that Stefani had to use cue cards for the lyrics. Double deduction for making “Hollaback Girl” and ruining your band’s legacy and hurting my brain.

By the way, this might induce vomiting from Michael: I once saw R.E.M. live and in concert with none other than......Bruce Springsteen. It was epic. Clarence brought his 'A' game.

By the way, Stipe is a goofy dude, but we've all known this.

-d.

I have very mixed feelings about R.E.M.. I find a lot of their output pretty ….annoying. Nonetheless, alternative rock wouldn’t exist in it’s current form without them, and for that I have to give the band much love. But to break down my feelings about them, they just come across to me as inconsistent. When they’re on top of it, very few can do it better. But when they aren’t…..wow. Just wow.

So what about Document? Thankfully it falls solidly into the former category. Not as hard as Monster, but also no “Shiny Happy People," so I call that breaking even (I know it‘s actually a whole big anti-complacency message, I still hate that song). Also this is by far their most political album, calling out Reagan and run away consumerism. The insanely catchy pop of “Exhuming McCarthy” is pretty much one giant misdirect as they attack that old hallmark of conservatism; exceptionalism. This song reminds me of my mothers opinion of reggae, and how she always gets thrown off by the major key harmonies and danceable riddims that belie the lyrics calling for revolution or recounting violence and poverty. Same general idea here.

A note on hand claps. I hate them. That is all.

“Finest Worksong” is actually pretty rocking and starts with what has to be the biggest drum sound R.E.M. ever recorded. I had never paid much attention to this track, but man it has grown on me the last few days. Just some fantastic attention to small details. Constantly grinding guitars with a classic hard rock dive bomb every so often. Killer outro with some-LEONARD BERNSTEIN!!!!!!! -great bass playing and perfect use of touch harmonics. Just can’t find any fault with that song. Really, even the tracks that don’t stand out still offer something of interest. “Fireplace” has a completely random burst of acid jazz saxophone that somehow is a great fit. “King of Birds” features a marching beat and some wild shredding on dulcimer. Seriously, dulcimer.

Let’s touch on the hits. “It’s the End of the World As We Know It (and I Feel Fine)” is everything you remember. Which means (as Tommy Boy so perfectly recounted) ‘that’s right it starts with an earthquake…mumble mumble…..’. Really though, it’s just a great song. For the most part the conglomeration of words is pretty random, but many seem to spell out an image of ‘50s cold war hysteria and fear, as well as references to the biblical apocalypse. Throw in the supremely singable hook and how can you go wrong? Right? Right. As for “The One I Love”, this may be the best song about emotionally crippled people using each other for meaningless relationships ever written. Plus, with so many people blindly thinking it’s a love song and requesting it on the radio for valentine’s day it makes things even more fun. Unique side story, the photographer on the video was Alton Brown of Food Network fame. Your welcome.

I don’t see much point in going further into the songs. Your probably either have the album already or don’t care for the band. It’s strange to think that this record is about 24 years old. It still seems modern, which is a great credit to the bands ability to stay ahead of the times. Plus I remember seeing the videos for these songs on tv, and I refuse to acknowledge that I’m getting old. I wonder how old that kid with the skateboard is now and if that house has collapsed yet. I have a fascination with old abandoned buildings so maybe that’s why it sticks in my mind. Anyway, good stuff.

You all need to watch this. It’s unbelievable.

#471 - Echo & the Bunnymen - Heaven Up Here

While doing some research into Heaven Up Here, I came across a few reviews published around the time of the album’s initial release. One thing I found interesting is that a number of reviews referred to the album as the band’s least accessible collection for those not familiar to Echo & the Bunnymen, which is funny because, while listening to it, I couldn’t help but thinking the same exact thing. That being said, I felt “eh” about this album. I have not glaring complaints and it was a much welcome follow-up to the travesty involving having to listen to that shite album Hysteria, but I have nothing glowing to say about the album either.

For the most part, I enjoyed the album and, while I lack the great story Mike has concerning this album and its’ 4am appearances, I feel that not only would it be a fantastic album to listen to at such a late hour, but I couldn’t help to picture myself lying on my bed in the 80’s, staring at the ceiling, listening to the nuances of this album. To be honest, I even tried it, but there is something about it that the 80’s decade adds to its’ importance and effect. I loved the musicianship on the album. It is incredibly impressive how Will Sergeant is able to take such simple notes and construct them in a fashion that creates a composition so ethereal and overwhelming. There are just things that Sergeant does that most other bands couldn’t pull off or wouldn’t even attempt. For that, I thank him. Seriously, the album is worth listening to for this reason alone. On the other hand, Ian McCulloch’s voice, which finds itself between Morrissey’s croon and Michael Stipe’s spastic franticness (but not as enjoyable), can at times position itself as an additional instrument, but usually just invokes irritation from the listener (a.k.a. me). Despite this, one can still appreciate the work as a cohesive unit.

I don’t see myself listening to this album consistently, but then again I don’t have the background to go with it that Mike fortunately carries with him. I think some albums and their respective greatness are aided by the memories of their time and, in this case, I missed that boat due to my age and inexperience. Nonetheless, a decent album, but I am still confused as to its’ placement on the list. I’ll leave this one as an “OK,” if not for anything else than the fact that anything is better than Def Leppard’s epic garbage.

-d.

Formed by Ian McCulloch after he was fired from an early version of the Teardrop Explodes by Julian Cope, Echo & the Bunnymen are a bit of a surprise entry on the list. Not that they shouldn’t get that respect, but I just wouldn’t expect the average person to remember this album. There hasn’t been anything else quite like this in our previous reviews. Husker Du comes close at times, but never reaches this level of art rock. This is really the antithesis of Hysteria. Lyrics that clearly took thought, but also inspire thinking on the listeners part. Solid musicianship with creative verses and original lines. Thank God…..

It’s hard to really describe the songs on this album. This is true artistic brilliance at work. A perfect example is the closer, “All I Want”. Ever changing, each section feels like a new wave washing over you. There’s touches of Gang of Four style punk-funk, a healthy dose of British psychedelica ala the aforementioned Mr. Cope , even some Talking Heads-ish percussion backings. There’s more going on in that song than a lot of bands touch on in their entire careers. But it never seems congested even though it could have been a train wreck.

“All My Colours” rides a busy drum part as the rest of the band lays out, letting quiet touches of feedback and echo wrap around you. Again a very trippy number with repeating chants and flourishes of piano. This is 2am music. Actually, the album used to be in the jukebox at my favorite all night pizza and beer joint on campus and I’d always put this on around four in the morning after all the musicians had stumbled in from their gigs and the queens were sashaying through because the drag shows had let out. Vivid memory right there, I still smell the smoke and perfume, mixing with garlic and the stench of years of spilled beer. I will forever relate this song to the image of makeup-smeared napkins, crumpled beside the hairy forearms of Marilyn Monroe and Liza Minnelli.

Aaaaannndd… back to the music. I’m really having trouble finding anything to dislike. Inventive bass lines and unconventional drumming keep this record from falling into one of the traps of early 80’s British alternative groups: terrible rhythm sections. But Will Sergeant steals the show with his impeccable guitar playing. At times sparse, at others layered; he always knows what to play and when to shut up. Perfect.

Great stuff that anyone can enjoy. Heaven Up Here runs through a constant state of evolution, never sounding the same for more than a few minutes but making those transitions in gradual enough increments to be completely natural. Should be in anyone’s collection.

-tfm

#472 - Hysteria - Def Leppard

Maybe, arena rock like Def Leppard is just not my cup of tea, but this album was everything I expected it to be and by that I mean absolutely ridiculous. I have no idea what millions of people were thinking in the 80's, but this is a testament of how off-kilter that thinking was. Granted, Leppard's arguably biggest hit "Pour Some Sugar On Me" is still, to this day, highly revered in the stripper circuit. But amongst the greatest albums of all time?

Now, I get it. Def Leppard fell on hard times (particularly their drummer who tragically lost his arm in an auto accident) and producer Mutt Lange apparently did things in the studio that were previously unheard of: backmasking, putting noises from the Apollo space mission into songs, using parts of other Leppard songs as backing, etc. All this is well and fine, until you listen to the godawful lyrics that run rampart throughout this album. I mean these lyrics are absolutely abysmal. So, much so that I don't really feel like rehashing this album. Don't believe me? Look no further to that delightfully (read as excruciatingly painful) titled tune "Armageddon It." Aside from the fact that this is the worst play on words I have even had the nightmare of coming across, the song contains such great lyrics as "You say love is won when you get some / But then your finger won't trigger the gun." And let's not forget the chorus which asks us "Yeah, but are you gettin' it? Armageddon it," just to ask again, "Really gettin' it? Armageddon it." This is so ridiculous I don't know how to even punctuate that last statement correctly; meaning it should never have been written once, let alone discussed. Also, this song contains some water from that all too familiar well Def Leppard frequently visits which is repeating the same goddamn lines over and over and over and over. Shoot me in the eardrums, please. So much hatred and I have only described one song! One freakin' song!
I'm sorry. Maybe, some of our frequent readers (you know? the ones that may or may not read but don't leave comments either way) are yearning for more description on this album, but I can't do it. This albums sucks, for lack of a better (read as harsher) term. I know there are bound to be a group of readers who detest the thoughts of this blog, but I challenge them to come up with any sort of cohesive argument about why this should be on the list above any of the last 28 albums, let alone appear at all. If they try, I'd love to punch them in the throat.

P.S. I challenged Mike to write a positive review about this album. Let's see if he was able to.

-d.

A true classic, Hysteria broke the mold for great hard rock albums in the eighties. Brilliant guitar playing, deeply thoughtful lyrics and restrained production add up to make one of the all time greats. Def Leppard had always sustained a reputation as a true metal band, and wouldn’t be letting up for this album, Instead they created a raw, straight ahead rocker, not seen since the likes of MC5 and Television. Mutt Lange has said that they set out to make a metal version of Michael Jackson’s Thriller, but they may have actually topped it. Not a single bad word can be said about this record, and I’ll fight anyone who says otherwise.

The first burst of God-given amazingness is Women, a balls to the wall……… I’m sorry, I just can’t do it…. I promised Danny I would try to write a positive review and really slather on the praise, even if it was just a joke. But, damn it, I feel dirty just typing the words. Not the good kind of dirty either. More like uncle-drunky-mcbadtouch dirty. I mean this whole recording is just abysmally bad. I’ve actually lost a rather large amount of faith in God over it’s mere existence. The production is one of the greatest crimes the 80’s committed, with so much reverb and echo that any hopes of hearing actual tone are completely lost. There is no soul, feel or depth at all. I am actually angered to the point of violence by the whole thing.

First off, where do the guys in Def Leppard get off referring to themselves as metal? I pray that before he died, Dio hunted each of them down and used his wizards magic to punish them for their evils (For those who don’t know, Dio was a wizard. He was actually Merlin. That’s how badass Dio was.) But let’s move on to the actual music. I give Rick Allen credit for coming back from losing an arm, but the drum sound is simply garbage. It sounds huge at first, until you give it a good close listen and you realize the drums have the most over compressed, plastic tone ever recorded. They actually multi-tracked each and every beat of each and every song on the album. Check it out, every time you hear a snare hit, you’re actually hearing ten snares at once, with about twenty different layers of reverb laid over them. It’s ridiculous! To go through so much work, just so you could be lazy and not worry about getting the best take, goes against everything I have ever learned as a musician. Stupid stupid stupid…..

Hey Joe Elliot. You don’t have to tell me which instrument is about to play a fill. I’ll probably figure that out for myself when I, y’know, hear it. I have absolutely no need or desire to hear you yell “Guitar!!” whenever Steve Clark is about to play the simplest of riffs. Jackass. For that matter, you can pretty much stop singing all the words. There isn’t a single lyric here that came close to catching my attention and making me stop and analyze what I was hearing or debate it’s meaning. I mean, really, how many times on one album can you use the words “make love”? When you make love, When I make love to you, Making love to you, You think that making love is the way to make it, I’ll make love to you. Those are all in one song. ONE FUCKING SONG! What the hell was going on in the studio dur-…..oh yeah…. Cocaine.

I’m not even going to touch the individual songs. I would actually burst a damn vessel if I tried. It would probably look like Scanners. But a few other things. The bass is called bass for a reason. Turn down the knob that says Treble, break it off, and shove it straight up your ass. Once your done putting the coke up there first, of course. The guitar work is a joke. Lazy, derivative, and completely lacking in original riffs. The fact that I have to listen to music like this is why I don’t own guns.

This is the only way I will ever listen to “Pour Some Sugar on Me” again.

-tfm