FIZZY’S CLOSET, VOLUME V:
Tunes of Christmas Past
With another Christmas come and gone, I thought it might be fun to delve deep into the Closet and revisit some holidays past. Ever since I’ve been into music, the thing I’ve wanted most for Christmas (and birthdays) was tunage. I’ve mellowed in my old age, but when I was a kid, the list of CD’s and tapes I wanted was longer than my list of other stuff. Nowadays, I tend to get a lot of gift certificates, but back then, I could usually count on a couple of tuneful stocking stuffers. SO let’s put on our Santa Claus boxers with the white fur trim, and journey into the past, and don’t forget our Fizzy Pudding. Never mind!
CINDERELLA: Night Songs; 1986 (Mercury)
Rating: 8.5
1988 was my first Christmas as a rocker. I had just been initiated into the heady world of hard rock and metal that fall, by Guns n’ Roses. But of course, one tape hardly makes a collection, and so, my list that year was heavy on music. I was eight.
And Cinderella’s debut was one of the tapes I got. Actually, it was their second album I had in mind, since “Don’t Know What You’ve Got (’Til It’s Gone)” was the single at the time, but it turned out to be for the best that I got Night Songs instead.
And there ain’t a damn thing wrong with this record either! Full of sass and swagger, at this point, Cinderella are just a straight-up hard-rock band. They looked completely ridiculous on the cover, and that ended up hurting them in later years. People look back at that picture and immediately write Cinderella off as another foo-foo band.
Night Songs has a lot more in common with AC/DC or Fastway or mid-’80’’s Kix than with their poofy-haired contemporaries like Poison or Autograph. At this point, they haven’t started seriously incorporating elements of the blues into their music yet, so this is basic, barroom rock, played with attitude and talent to spare.
The title track may seem like an odd choice to open the record, as it’s rather slow and plodding, but it totally works here, especially with the ominous wind and foghorn effects at both the beginning and end. Check out the tasty lead riff laid over the main power-chords. The howled chorus helps lend a wolves-baying-at-the-moon feel to the song, and I still don’t feel right playing the song before dark.
“Shake Me” is next, with a classic AC/DC/Kix-style boogie riff and raunchy lyrics about screamin’ and scratchin’ and kickin’ the walls. Pretty suggestive for the time. Anybody remember the video? “Ha ha, WE’RE going to the Cinderella concert, and YOU have to stay ho-o-ome!” “Somebody Save me” and “Push Push” are similar in style, all with strong, chanted choruses and repetitive but powerful riffs. “Hell On Wheels” is faster, and once again puts me in mind of Kix’s more headlong material,
a la “Dirty Boys” or “Hot Wire.”
The big flaw in this release is the vocals of Tom Kiefer. He definitely has a distinctive style, and his raspy shriek helped set Cinderella apart from other bands of the time, at least until Britny Fox ripped it off. As the album goes on, however, his tone tends to grate on the ears, and he often sounds like he’s forcing it. He’s making the noises with his mouth, but his gut isn’t behind it. I’ve always thought his mellower, midrange vocals were underused, and the two songs in which they appear here are a welcome treat. “Nobody’s Fool” is a great minor-key ballad, borrowing a page from Def Leppard’s “Bringin’ On the Heartache.” The smooth verses are mixed with stellar high-pitched layers in the chorus. Meanwhile, “In From the Outside” is a rousing shuffle, and just when you think it’s over, it breaks into a second, long solo, ending in a piercing wail.
One of my favorite tracks on the album (and a favorite Cinderella song overall), is the closer “Back Home Again,” with its whooping riff and melodic pre-chorus. But what’s with the ending that doesn’t go anywhere, with the two chords repeating into infinity?
It’s easy to overlook Cinderella, as their early image continues to overshadow their music. The band hasn’t released any music since 1994, and now has more best-of compilations than actual albums. Tom Kiefer continues to string the world along, evidently still waiting for a label to offer him a big contract like it’s 1986 all over again. Meanwhile, we still have their albums, and Night Songs is a fun, if technically unspectacular offering. More creativity would follow soon, but for now, the band is happy just to rock hard and loud.
Best songs: “Shake Me,” “Back Home Again”
Worst song: “Once Around the Ride”
AEROSMITH: Pump; 1989 (Geffen)
Rating: 7.5
For Christmas of 1989, I received what is
still one of my favorite presents ever: my
first stereo system. Not some little boom box,
but a real, honest-to-God stereo system.
Dual cassette! Programmable radio! Turntable!
It also had an input for a CD player, which I
didn’t have, and had no interest in getting,
since CD’s were several dollars more expensive
than tapes, and when you’re nine, and your
folks aren’t sure they approve of you buying
so many tapes in the first place, money’s tight.
Anyway, my dad helped me hook it up in the
living room amid the discarded wrapping paper,
and this was the first tape I popped into it,
fresh from my stocking.
I understand why a lot of people don’t like Pump. Its appeal has worn off a little for me as well over the years, but I’ll always have a soft spot for it. As you are no doubt aware, this was the second of Aerosmith’s string of wildly successful sober albums, which began with 1987’s Permanent Vacation. That winning streak continues to this day in terms of sales, but sometime in the middle of 1993’s Get a Grip, the quality started slipping fast. As it stands, some can safely argue that the decline began with Pump.
So what’s wrong with the damn record, you ask? Horns. Keyboards. Not enough guitar crunch. Oversaturation. Get the picture? The first four songs are all rockers though, including the megahit “Love In An Elevator.” Idiotic lyrics (“Kiss you all the way to seven, honey, and kiss your sassafras!”), but good music, and a patented Joe Perry long-ass solo. Extra points for including the hokey intro from the video on the album.
Not to be overlooked, however, are openers “Young Lust” and ‘F.I.N.E.” Both come with Steven Tyler’s signature sex-crazed wordplay (“Ain’t got no rubbers, now it’s rainin’ all the time, whoooooooo!”), and the latter sports one of the best hooks on the record. The two songs are connected by a brief but impressive drum solo, marred only by the fact that for much of the album, Joey Kramer sounds as though he’s beating on a metal washtub.
Other high spots o the album are the rollicking “My Girl,” and the seriously overlooked “Voodoo Medicine Man,” the latter with great stop-start passages and a creepy robot voice at the end.
Now the rest of the album. At the time I received it, “Janie’s Got a Gun” was the single, and a huge favorite of mine. But for whatever reason, I now can’t stand the song. The silly keyboards, the repetitive chorus, and it seems to drag on FOREVER! It does have salvageable parts, like the acoustic solo and the soaring “run away, run away” part, but overall, this one doesn’t stand the test of time. Neither does “The Other Side,” although it fares somewhat better. That’s thanks largely to the melodies and vocal blending. But what the hell is with the horns, and muted guitar tones? A better version of this song was released as some kind of B-side, which was more guitar driven, although it had a piano plinking relentlessly in the background. Remember that? It started with somebody tuning through an AM radio?
“Don’t Get Mad, Get Even” is an odd little harmonica-and-horn attempt at blues, reminiscent of the previous album’s “Hangman Jury.” The album closes with an acceptable ballad in “What It Takes,” which at least isn’t as Diane Warren-esque as the band would become in the future. It sounds more like an Aerosmith song than, say, that godawful meteor-movie song they did. All right, I like “What It Takes,” there, I said it.
Intermixed with all this are some throwaway little tracks like “The Water Song,” as it’s now listed, which I know only as the beginning of “Janie’s Got a Gun.” Why that’s a separate track on more recent pressings, I haven’t a clue. “The Other Side” begins with something that’s now being called, appropriately enough, “Mandolin Stomp,” but I usually skipped past it to the actual beginning of the song. And the banjo-and-horns hidden track at album’s end, well, I can’t say I’ve listened to that in a decade or more.
The good points are that when they rock, they rock. Joe Perry is as inventive as ever, and Steven Tyler’s voice is still in top form. Even this album is pretty far removed from what the band has become.
Best songs: “F.I.N.E.,” “Love In An Elevator”
Worst song: “Janie’s Got a Gun”
TRIXTER: Trixter; 1990 (MCA)
Rating: 6.0
As requested by Shasta Daisy........All right, all right. I hear ya cryin’, and you’re sayin’ “Fizz! Trixter has no business in the Fizzbunker! Glam fag! Glam fag!” So let me preface this review by saying, this is NOT a metal album. It is very commercial hard rock, verging on pop-rock. When I got this tape for Christmas of 1990, I didn’t have any metalhead friends to shame me into throwing it out. Nobody said “You little punk-ass pussy bitch, you should listen to SLAYERRRRR! [prolonged coughing fit] Or else you aren’t a true metalhead!” I simply didn’t “know better,” and therefore, I commenced to play the shit out of it. Why not? It has some real catchy tunes on it, after all. And for that reason, I refuse to rate this any lower than a 6.
And while we’re at it, let’s dispense with the debates over whether or not the guys in Trixter really were underage at the time, or of who, exactly, played on their debut album. Taken for what it is, Trixter’s debut is an extremely catchy, very lightweight collection of tunes. That doesn’t mean it’s without merit. The guitars of Steve Brown (I’m fairly certain he DID play on this) pack enough snarl and squeal to keep it hard rock, and most of the solos are simple but tuneful. I first thought Peter Loran sounded like a smooth Sebastian Bach, and that comparison still remains adequate. Every song has an ultra-infectious hook, a la Bon Jovi or same-era Def Leppard. Opener “Line of Fire” is one of the heaviest songs on the album, actually reminding me a little of L.A. Guns, with a slow, churning riff and a chorus that isn’t as happy-sappy as some on the album. The other heavier songs would be the harmonics-riddled “Play Rough” (marred slightly by Pete’s laughable tough-guy grunting in the chorus), and “Bad Girl,” which boasts the best riff on the album.
First single “Give It To Me Good” is an acoustic-to-electric strut that was an instant and inescapable hit. Okay, pop quiz: ‘So take me home tonight, like you know that you should ………” If you aren’t supplying the rest, you must’ve never heard this song. For the record, it’s “……… When you’re ready to be bad, just give it (BAM!) give it to me good!” Like the rest of the album, this song is pure guilty pleasure. Second single “One In a Million” is a bit more subdued, but nonetheless super-melodic, and with that Def Lep harmony chorus thing going on. There was an alternate version of this song with boomy production, but damn if I know where it can be found.
Most of the other rockers have their moments, usually in the form of a contagious chorus or pleasing riff. “Always a Victim,” ‘You’ll Never See Me Cryin’,” “Heart of Steel”--decent songs all.
There are, of course, two ballads. “Surrender” was the third single, and is one of those let’s-get-back-together-I’m-so-sorry type deals. It’s as musically memorable as anything on the record, but the lyrics are a bit of a hindrance (more on that in a minute). “On and On,” meanwhile is one of those worldly-and-wise songs about achieving goals, or some damn thing. Melodically strong, but lyrically weak.
And when you come right down to it, that is the album’s biggest problem. The lyrics appear to have been written by teenagers with no real experience with girls or life. Which is fair enough, since that’s what Trixter WERE at the time. Even allowing for the youth of the band, the lyrics come across in most cases as very manufactured and disingenuous. Some of the sex tunes sound as though they were written by virgins, and “Surrender” is conveyed with the drama only a first breakup can produce. Then there are the guidance-counselor-esque, give-it-your-best-shot numbers like “On and On” and “Only Young Once.”
Oh yeah, and “Ride the Whip” has a riff that sounds like something I would’ve worked out at about age eleven, before I had any lessons. The rest of the guitarwork on that song is, frankly, earsplittingly squealy.
I was listening to this the other night, looking for material for this review, and I realized that aside from the comparisons I made already, you might say Trixter sounded like a better, Yankee version of Southgang (see Fizzy’s Closet 4). Didn’t think of it when I wrote the Southgang review, but there it is.
While Trixter is definitely not for all the Fizzbunker visitors, if you like ultra-melodic hard rock, don’t listen to the lyrics, and aren’t worried about what people may think of you if they catch you listening to it, this is a worthwhile little gem for the occasional listen and nostalgia colonic.
Best songs: “Line of Fire,” “One In a Million”
Worst song: “Ride the Whip”
TESLA Psychotic Supper; 1991 (Geffen)
Rating: 9.5
Oh hell YES! Now we’re talkin’, goddammit! In case you haven’t figured it out already, I love this album. Actually, I love almost everything Tesla has done, and can even find the good parts in their latest album (see review, if you really want to). Interestingly, I know two people, also fans of Tesla’s earlier albums, who both skipped this one, and instead got back onboard for the band’s ballad-heavy 1994 album Bust A Nut.
Well, to quote one of their new songs, “What a shame,” because Psychotic Supper is Tesla at their creative peak. Whilte 1989’s Great Radio Controversy may have had more commercial success and radio-friendly tunes, Psychotic Supper has more diversity, showing the band at their heaviest and mellowest. The differences from one song to the next are striking, yet it’s all still obviously Tesla. The excellent musicianship of the band is fully in play, as well as their sense of melody and hooks. When I’m in the mood for Tesla, this is the album I most often reach for. Maybe it doesn’t have as many “hits,” and what hits it does have aren’t as big as those on the previous album, but that almost makes this a better choice in some ways.
“Put this in your pipe and smoke it!” is the rallying cry that opens the album, and smoke it certainly does! “Change In the Weather” is a fine song, with a bit of a funky rhythm, and double-speed, wah-infused solos. And it says something about the album that a perfectly good song like this isn’t even an album highlight. It is a little silly, however, to hear Jeff Keith, who was almost 33 at the time of the album’s release, singing “We’re the younger generation,a nd we came to face the day.” Oh well! “Time” is similarly sassy, with a few lyrical jabs at Tipper Gore and other, unnamed authority figures. Check out the swinging end-part, culminating in a thorat-blowing scream from Jeff Keith. Good God!
“Edison’s Medicine” was the first single and video from the album, and appears to actually be about Thomas Edison being a misunderstood genius. The song lacks a real riff, and instead features guitarist Tommy Skeoch in one of his few shining moments (Frank Hannon usually hogs the glory), as he wails all over this song. Of particular note are the siren-howls, which I’ve always gotten a big kick out of, and the twangy, melodic section of the solo.
On the heavy side of things, we have the near-thrash blitzkrieg of “Don’t De-Rock Me.” Great lyrics about independence (“No time for fuckin’ around with mediocrity / Takes everything I got just tryin’ to be me”) and vicarious groupies (“Backstage Betty, banana in her cherry, in the shower down on her knees / Like to think she’ll own if she do just what ya please!”) froma venomous JK. Skeoch and hannon trade off scorching solos for a full two minutes before tearing through the remainder of the song. Elsewhere, “Freedom Slaves” is a slow grinder, with subterranean bass and interwoven guitar lines. “Had Enough” is a rolling, last-call ode to excess, with a driving riff, cool-down verses and a plodding, Sabbathy ending. As a bonus, it includes the line, “The more I drink, the more I smoke and the better she looks--and honey, that’s a whole lot better than before!”
Then there are the softer songs. “What U Give” is a seven-minute, country-tinged ballad displaying both acoustic guitar talent (I’m not sure who’s playing that part), and JK’s penchant for overt sentimentality. The lyrics may seem incredibly sappy, but Tesla is the only band who could pull this song off convincingly. Great for weddings and wooing the ladies! “Call It What You Want” is more rocking, but still very melodic and with mellow verses and similarly heartfelt lyrics, touching on love, music and society. “Government Personnel” is a fast-strumming fifty-eight seconds of folk-song protest that any other band would’ve made seem extraneous. “Stir It Up” is one of the few non-highlights on the album, if only for Jeff’s strange-sounding vocals. Sounds like he’s got a cold or something. Oh yeah, and the lyrics are of the esteem-building kind that he sometimes slips into, telling the world that WE CAN DO IT! Even with that and the squitchy-witchy-woo guitar solo (sorry, but that’s the sound it makes!), it’s still a decent song, and the chord changes are creative as always.
The centerpiece of the album is the epic “Song and Emotion,” written in tribute to the late Steve Clark, of Tesla’s past touring mates Def Leppard. The song starts slow and haunted, building slowly into a powerhouse groove, slowing down again for the chorus. That’s the song, and the emotion is also in abundant supply. After all, they ARE singing about a dead friend. The eight-and-a-half-minute track length is due partly to a long coda that I don’t find particularly necessary, but since it’s at the end of the song, it doesn’t take away from the other seven minutes. As it stands, this is probably my favorite Tesla song of all time.
As I have possibly hinted at already, every other song is notable for at least something. “Can’t Stop has evil verses switching to a smooth chorus, and the line “Candy’s fine and dandy, but then sex don’t rot your teeth.” And the album closes with a silly, funked-up ode to marijuana called “Toke About It.”
Another thing worth noting is the lyrical content of the album in general. Past releases tended to be mostly about love and relationships, but on Psychotic Supper, the band stretches lyrically, dealing with heavier topics to compliment the heavier music. The plight of the Indians, government warmongering, freedom and the less-fun sides of the music business are all explored to some degree or another, which is commendable, and yet another reason why Psychotic Supper is quite possibly Tesla’s finest hour. If it seems like I’ve written a lot about this one, well, it’s just that good.
Best songs: “Song and Emotion,” “Freedom Slaves,” “Don’t De-Rock Me,” “Call It What You Want"
Worst song: “Stir It Up,” maybe, I guess
All right, Merry Fizzmas, and here are a couple of brief, unfavorable reviews I thought might be fun to write, as well as for you to read.
FIONA: Heart Like a Gun; 1989 (Atlantic)
Rating: 2.5
Anybody who regularly watched Dial-MTV in the fall of 1989 remembers this one. The album’s big hit was Fiona (Flannigan)’s duet with Kip Winger on “Everything You Do 9You’re Sexing Me).” That bubble-gum rock treasure remains one of this record’s two good songs. The other is the heartfelt ballad “Victoria Cross,” which includes some lyrics that look a little ……… lesbian. The rest is, to quote my buddy Tim, “like a hard-rock Tiffany.” Even Vixen rocked harder than this. From what I can glean from the liner notes, it was produced like a pop album as well, with no fewer than nineteen people named in the credits, including Kip Winger, his brother Nate, his drummer Rod Morganstein, super-producer Beau Hill, Dweezil Zappa, Brad Gillis, and a bunch of others who names sound vaguely familiar, like David-Glen Eisley and Jamie Hunting. I saw this in a store in the fall of 1990 and decided, “Hey, I want that for Christmas.” Bad move. I learned years later that Fiona actually had three more albums, dating back to 1985, and all are said to be better, and more rocking, than this.
BUSH: Razor Blade Suitcase; 1996 (Too Lazy To Go Look It Up Records)
Rating: 1.0
What the fuck was I thinking?! Well, as you may remember, metal pretty much did not exist in 1996. Oh, sure, bands like Iced Earth, Overkill, Nevermore, Testament and others were recording and putting out records, but they were being virtually ignored in the mainstream media, especially radio. I didn’t have the Internet to help me discover new bands, and so I was left with picking the best of what I heard on my local radio station. And before Christmas of ’96, I took leave of my senses momentarily and decided I wanted this CD. I actually liked Bush'’ debut, and still find a few good songs on it, but this? Ugh! Lots of slow numbers, lots of dreary vocals, and few hooks. Gavin Rossdale is little more than a minor-league, limey Kurt Cobain with better hygiene habits. The good parts of this album, all put together, account for all of the meager rating, but as it is, ‘Personal Holloway” and “A Tendency to Start Fires” are the two least horrible songs here.
Okay, gang, that was a long one. I realize these last few editions of Fizzy’s Closet have been fairly lightweight, so next time, we’ll definitely explore the heavier corners. Promise.
1//01/05
