AndyK
04 Apr 2007, 16:22
Found this article here (http://www.newwest.net/index.php/city/article/the_big_4_0_and_a_meat_loaf_obsession/C8/L8/) today on turning 40 and liking Bat Out Of Hell ... doesn't strike a chord with me at all, oh no! ;-)
On April 4th, 1978, I turned 11, and I was a huge KISS fan. I had prepared a list of the KISS albums I possessed so that my parents would know which ones I already had in preparation for adding to my collection. So when I was handed the thin, album-sized square wrapped in newspaper I was giddy with excitement. I tore into the package, hoping for “Rock n’ Roll Over.”
Instead, I was greeted with the garish monster-and-motorcycle artwork of “Meat Loaf – Bat Out of Hell.” Cool cover . . . but . . . Meat Loaf (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Meat_loaf)?
My dad was red-faced and giggling. “Meat Loaf, ha ha!” he wheezed. “Because you’re a ‘meat loaf’!” Thanks, Dad. Burning the only album credit I would likely get in the near future on one that reminded you of your son’s shape. Fan-****ing-tastic.
I was familiar with Meat Loaf, of course, in the same way as I was familiar with broccoli: I hated him. The fact that I had no more heard Meat Loaf’s music than I had tasted broccoli didn’t matter. I had seen pictures of Marvin Lee Aday, Meat Loaf’s real identity (since changed to Michael Lee Aday), and decided then that his music sucked. This was a point in my musical development where anyone who took up space in music magazines that should be reserved for KISS were cheap charlatans. The ‘zines of the day were things like “16” and “Tiger Beat” that my sisters got; I always swiped the KISS articles and pictures, leaving them to their Leif Garretts and Sean Cassidys. Meat Loaf, this big, fat sweaty guy in a ruffled shirt spitting all over some hot female singer, was showing up more and more, and I could not abide it. He was despised. I vowed to hate him, even as my parents were urging me to throw the album on the stereo.
Turns out “Bat Out of Hell” was a pretty good album. Great, in fact. I was blown away at first listen, even as I was torn by feelings of “must hate this!” vs. “wow, this is awesome!” Just the heft of the thing; of all my vinyl records, this one was the thickest, darkest, richest slab of vinyl I’d ever thrown on the big console stereo in our living room. The overwrought majesty of Jim Steinman’s compositions roared into the room, with Meat’s operatic wail raging from the title track on into the gentle angst of “Heaven Can Wait.” Hearing “Two Out of Three Ain’t Bad” made me realize I had indeed heard Meat Loaf before, without even knowing it . . . but that didn’t prepare me for the rousing sexuality of “Paradise By the Dashboard Lights.” It almost made me finally understand what someone meant when the talked about “getting to second base.” Now, 29 years later, I can clearly remember my dad, who was a mere 38 in 1978, turning to me and saying, “This album is actually pretty good, isn’t it?” I had to agree, even as the revelation that there could be music my dad and I both liked was unprecedented.
Little did we know then that “Bat Out of Hell” was on its way to selling in excess of 35 million copies worldwide.
I’ve talked before (http://www.newwest.net/index.php/main/article/rock_kid_rock_dad/) about the musical relationship my son, Sid, and I share. As often happens, we were talking music around the dinner table the other night, and Julia made the comment to Sid that sooner or later he’d stumble on a band or music style that she and I wouldn’t like, and that she thinks it’s an important part of growing up to love some kind of music that grown-ups hate. So far, though, that hasn’t happened. Sid’s primary source for music has been my CD collection, and there really isn’t anything there that I don’t like. He may have different favorites – for example, for a blast of lo-fi fury he’s more likely to reach for The Misfits while I’m pulling The Stooges – but for the most part the bands he has been digging hard lately are bands he can put in the CD player for the drive to school and I’m happy to listen as well. I’m happy to have created a solid musical legacy for the little punk. I derive great pleasure hearing Saint Vitus blare from his room while he’s doing his homework.
I don’t see him pulling out Meat Loaf any time soon, however. This is my record, and the way it rocks to me just doesn’t rock the same way for the kid who has swiped my leather jacket.
My parents didn’t have a record collection at all to speak of. I remember seeing stuff like Percy Sledge, or Gary Puckett and the Union Gap, but those were records they’d picked up before us kids were on the scene. Any musical legacy from my folks, besides my mom loving the music I brought home (not to mention being the biggest fan of her son’s music any musician could ever hope for), would all arise from “Bat Out of Hell.”
Jim Steinman’s songs are huge. They are bombastic – epic! They are also very cheesy, and it is the wink in Meat Loaf’s eye even as he delivers them so passionately that make them work. The songs of this record spoke to me in ways that even my heroes, KISS, couldn’t. While Stanley, Simmons, Frehley and Criss swaggered through their repertoire, scoring copious wanton chicks, rock n’ rolling all night and partying every day, Meat Loaf was expressing the angst, often as not, of the guy who wanted it so bad but just couldn’t get it. Or, having gotten the girl, couldn’t keep her. Girls didn’t dig me back in the day; I’m lucky enough to have found one now who does, because I’d hate to see if the 29+ year later incarnation of me would fare any better out in the cruel dating world (http://www.newwest.net/index.php/city/main/C501/L8)! But when the tragic protagonist in the song “Bat Out of Hell” is roaring down the highway on his evil motorcycle, singing, “And I can’t stop thinkin’ of you, and I never see the sudden curve ‘til it’s way too late!” it was me, dying romantically for love. I was also the guy who was wanted, was needed, but would never be loved (can we just be friends?), and it was as heartbreaking to me then as it was for the character in the song “Two Out of Three Ain’t Bad.” I was all revved up with no place to go, and I wanted so bad to be the guy getting lucky by the dashboard lights.
That was a long time ago, and the emotions Meat Loaf triggered in 1978 don’t seem to be so relevant for a grizzled old rock warrior like me at 40 who has a pretty damn decent life. Maybe that’s why this birthday isn’t such an albatross around my neck as teasing co-workers would like to make it out to be. Maybe it’s the many ways I don’t think I’ve aged beyond 17 that makes turning 40 not that big of a deal. I mostly think about how weird people are about age. At 20, most are thinking, “Yes, one more year ‘til I can buy my own beer!” 10 years later, 30 hits and most think, “Great, my life is over.” On my 40th, I’m looking forward to “Savage Tales #1” landing at Muse Comics (http://www.musecomics.com/) later today; I can’t wait for the “official” celebration that happens Friday, when we roll out to gorge on pizza at Biga’s and then head over to catch the Rodriguez/Tarantino trash flick, Grindhouse (http://www.grindhousemovie.net/). Screw golf and sipping martinis. I’m still the guy who wants to play my guitar until the canyons rock!
And that is how my obsession for Meat Loaf has blossomed these days. I read an interview with Jim Steinman in a recent issue of Classic Rock magazine and my obsession with “Bat Out of Hell” renewed 10-fold. Particularly the title track; I bet I’ve listened to that song 50 times over the last few weeks. My goal is to take my bludgeoning heavy rock band, Lazerwolfs (http://www.lazerwolfs.com/) (“putting the chest hair back on rock since 1999!”), and attempt a cover of the tune. May not sound like a big deal, but squeezing what is essentially an orchestra down to the power trio format may seem like an exercise in futility, but dammit if I’m not certain we can make a go of it. It’s got everything we excel in: big chords, drama, and a vocal line I know I can dig into like Meat Loaf could dig into a chocolate cake. I’m not saying I can sing as well as him, but I can hit the notes, and when you’re roaring over loud guitars, you just need to be in the ballpark. I’ve gone so far as to tell Julia that, “Hey, if we nail the title song like I think we can, I’m seriously considering arranging the entire album and doing a special one-off, ‘Lazerwolfs Cover Meat Loaf’ rock event!” Rock the canyons, hell, we’ll rock the damn world!
She just smiles, and agrees that it would indeed be the coolest thing ever. She is also the one who baked today’s chocolate cake. After all, it is my birthday.
On April 4th, 1978, I turned 11, and I was a huge KISS fan. I had prepared a list of the KISS albums I possessed so that my parents would know which ones I already had in preparation for adding to my collection. So when I was handed the thin, album-sized square wrapped in newspaper I was giddy with excitement. I tore into the package, hoping for “Rock n’ Roll Over.”
Instead, I was greeted with the garish monster-and-motorcycle artwork of “Meat Loaf – Bat Out of Hell.” Cool cover . . . but . . . Meat Loaf (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Meat_loaf)?
My dad was red-faced and giggling. “Meat Loaf, ha ha!” he wheezed. “Because you’re a ‘meat loaf’!” Thanks, Dad. Burning the only album credit I would likely get in the near future on one that reminded you of your son’s shape. Fan-****ing-tastic.
I was familiar with Meat Loaf, of course, in the same way as I was familiar with broccoli: I hated him. The fact that I had no more heard Meat Loaf’s music than I had tasted broccoli didn’t matter. I had seen pictures of Marvin Lee Aday, Meat Loaf’s real identity (since changed to Michael Lee Aday), and decided then that his music sucked. This was a point in my musical development where anyone who took up space in music magazines that should be reserved for KISS were cheap charlatans. The ‘zines of the day were things like “16” and “Tiger Beat” that my sisters got; I always swiped the KISS articles and pictures, leaving them to their Leif Garretts and Sean Cassidys. Meat Loaf, this big, fat sweaty guy in a ruffled shirt spitting all over some hot female singer, was showing up more and more, and I could not abide it. He was despised. I vowed to hate him, even as my parents were urging me to throw the album on the stereo.
Turns out “Bat Out of Hell” was a pretty good album. Great, in fact. I was blown away at first listen, even as I was torn by feelings of “must hate this!” vs. “wow, this is awesome!” Just the heft of the thing; of all my vinyl records, this one was the thickest, darkest, richest slab of vinyl I’d ever thrown on the big console stereo in our living room. The overwrought majesty of Jim Steinman’s compositions roared into the room, with Meat’s operatic wail raging from the title track on into the gentle angst of “Heaven Can Wait.” Hearing “Two Out of Three Ain’t Bad” made me realize I had indeed heard Meat Loaf before, without even knowing it . . . but that didn’t prepare me for the rousing sexuality of “Paradise By the Dashboard Lights.” It almost made me finally understand what someone meant when the talked about “getting to second base.” Now, 29 years later, I can clearly remember my dad, who was a mere 38 in 1978, turning to me and saying, “This album is actually pretty good, isn’t it?” I had to agree, even as the revelation that there could be music my dad and I both liked was unprecedented.
Little did we know then that “Bat Out of Hell” was on its way to selling in excess of 35 million copies worldwide.
I’ve talked before (http://www.newwest.net/index.php/main/article/rock_kid_rock_dad/) about the musical relationship my son, Sid, and I share. As often happens, we were talking music around the dinner table the other night, and Julia made the comment to Sid that sooner or later he’d stumble on a band or music style that she and I wouldn’t like, and that she thinks it’s an important part of growing up to love some kind of music that grown-ups hate. So far, though, that hasn’t happened. Sid’s primary source for music has been my CD collection, and there really isn’t anything there that I don’t like. He may have different favorites – for example, for a blast of lo-fi fury he’s more likely to reach for The Misfits while I’m pulling The Stooges – but for the most part the bands he has been digging hard lately are bands he can put in the CD player for the drive to school and I’m happy to listen as well. I’m happy to have created a solid musical legacy for the little punk. I derive great pleasure hearing Saint Vitus blare from his room while he’s doing his homework.
I don’t see him pulling out Meat Loaf any time soon, however. This is my record, and the way it rocks to me just doesn’t rock the same way for the kid who has swiped my leather jacket.
My parents didn’t have a record collection at all to speak of. I remember seeing stuff like Percy Sledge, or Gary Puckett and the Union Gap, but those were records they’d picked up before us kids were on the scene. Any musical legacy from my folks, besides my mom loving the music I brought home (not to mention being the biggest fan of her son’s music any musician could ever hope for), would all arise from “Bat Out of Hell.”
Jim Steinman’s songs are huge. They are bombastic – epic! They are also very cheesy, and it is the wink in Meat Loaf’s eye even as he delivers them so passionately that make them work. The songs of this record spoke to me in ways that even my heroes, KISS, couldn’t. While Stanley, Simmons, Frehley and Criss swaggered through their repertoire, scoring copious wanton chicks, rock n’ rolling all night and partying every day, Meat Loaf was expressing the angst, often as not, of the guy who wanted it so bad but just couldn’t get it. Or, having gotten the girl, couldn’t keep her. Girls didn’t dig me back in the day; I’m lucky enough to have found one now who does, because I’d hate to see if the 29+ year later incarnation of me would fare any better out in the cruel dating world (http://www.newwest.net/index.php/city/main/C501/L8)! But when the tragic protagonist in the song “Bat Out of Hell” is roaring down the highway on his evil motorcycle, singing, “And I can’t stop thinkin’ of you, and I never see the sudden curve ‘til it’s way too late!” it was me, dying romantically for love. I was also the guy who was wanted, was needed, but would never be loved (can we just be friends?), and it was as heartbreaking to me then as it was for the character in the song “Two Out of Three Ain’t Bad.” I was all revved up with no place to go, and I wanted so bad to be the guy getting lucky by the dashboard lights.
That was a long time ago, and the emotions Meat Loaf triggered in 1978 don’t seem to be so relevant for a grizzled old rock warrior like me at 40 who has a pretty damn decent life. Maybe that’s why this birthday isn’t such an albatross around my neck as teasing co-workers would like to make it out to be. Maybe it’s the many ways I don’t think I’ve aged beyond 17 that makes turning 40 not that big of a deal. I mostly think about how weird people are about age. At 20, most are thinking, “Yes, one more year ‘til I can buy my own beer!” 10 years later, 30 hits and most think, “Great, my life is over.” On my 40th, I’m looking forward to “Savage Tales #1” landing at Muse Comics (http://www.musecomics.com/) later today; I can’t wait for the “official” celebration that happens Friday, when we roll out to gorge on pizza at Biga’s and then head over to catch the Rodriguez/Tarantino trash flick, Grindhouse (http://www.grindhousemovie.net/). Screw golf and sipping martinis. I’m still the guy who wants to play my guitar until the canyons rock!
And that is how my obsession for Meat Loaf has blossomed these days. I read an interview with Jim Steinman in a recent issue of Classic Rock magazine and my obsession with “Bat Out of Hell” renewed 10-fold. Particularly the title track; I bet I’ve listened to that song 50 times over the last few weeks. My goal is to take my bludgeoning heavy rock band, Lazerwolfs (http://www.lazerwolfs.com/) (“putting the chest hair back on rock since 1999!”), and attempt a cover of the tune. May not sound like a big deal, but squeezing what is essentially an orchestra down to the power trio format may seem like an exercise in futility, but dammit if I’m not certain we can make a go of it. It’s got everything we excel in: big chords, drama, and a vocal line I know I can dig into like Meat Loaf could dig into a chocolate cake. I’m not saying I can sing as well as him, but I can hit the notes, and when you’re roaring over loud guitars, you just need to be in the ballpark. I’ve gone so far as to tell Julia that, “Hey, if we nail the title song like I think we can, I’m seriously considering arranging the entire album and doing a special one-off, ‘Lazerwolfs Cover Meat Loaf’ rock event!” Rock the canyons, hell, we’ll rock the damn world!
She just smiles, and agrees that it would indeed be the coolest thing ever. She is also the one who baked today’s chocolate cake. After all, it is my birthday.