BAD COMPANY: DANGEROUS AGE (1988)
1) One Night; 2) Shake It Up;
3) No Smoke Without A Fire; 4) Bad Man; 5) Dangerous Age; 6) Dirty Boy; 7) Rock
Of America; 8) Something About You; 9) The Way That It Goes; 10) Love Attack.
There must be one thing and one thing only that
has determined the sound shift from Fame
And Fortune to Dangerous Age,
and it must have been the success of Aerosmith's Permanent Vacation in the interim. Suddenly, it was mathematically
proven that aging, no-longer-hip rockers could
be cool with the primary record-buying crowd once again, as long as they filled
out a subscription to cheesy pop-metal with an almost clownish approach to sex
matters. And the most awesome thing about it: you don't even have to rely on
synthesizers any more, because synthesizers do not prolong your male dignity
to the same extent as Mr. Rawk Guitar.
So the first thing you get to see when you pick
the album up is the title, and it has the word Dangerous on it. Dangerous? Bad Company? Even Paul Rodgers could
only seem «dangerous» to a very, very bored housewife with pretty low-set
standards of «danger», and Fame And
Fortune was no more dangerous than Chris de Burgh. Then you put it on, and
whoops, a blues-pop-metal riff explodes straight in your face. Then come the
lyrics: "One night ain't no love affair, but I won't ask no more from you
/ One night with you anywhere, heaven knows what we can do". See? It's a
song about a one-night stand. And Brian Howe really only asks to plug her once, like the good old-fashioned gentleman
he is, because he is a God-given gift to all
the ladies. As long as they do their hair in 1988 fashion, enjoy Dirty Dancing, and have not already been
chosen by Steve Tyler whose publicity advantages over Brian Howe are
undeniable.
You have already understood, I gather, that, in
between 1986 and 1988, Bad Company made the «smart» choice to shift from one
sort of awfulness (bland, languid synth-rock) to another:
metal-guitar-dominated cock-rock. «Smart» only in that this really helped them,
on the heels of Aerosmith, to sell more copies: quality-wise, this shit is only marginally better than
that shit, since the change gave the
band more chances to work out some concentrated, precise riffage — most of
which is still fairly rotten.
There is more to this than the riffs, though.
If your goal is to present yourself to the rest of the world as some sort of
orgasmic terror-inspiring sex god of hellfire, you have to know how to do it
with humor and irony — qualities that were no enemies to Steve Tyler or Gene
Simmons, but seem fairly incompatible with Brian Howe and Mick Ralphs. Instead
of truly sounding «dangerous», or at least «hilarious», the title track just
sounds stupid. Chorus lines like "young girl has found her stage, watch
out, she's a dangerous age" are delivered as if the singer is really warning you to watch out. Of
course, the style was not invented in 1988; but it looks ever so dumber when it
is dressed up in musical clichés of 1988 — its glossed-out metal sound, Big
Terror Drums, and satanic echo effects on the dude's voice.
Things can only get worse in a song that has
the word «rock» in the title, and there it is: ʽRock Of Americaʼ, a certified «truck
driver anthem» the likes of which this band had never stooped to before. It's
a good stimulus for punching your fist through the wall to the merry sounds of
"I wanna ROCK!", but it isn't a frustration-venter, and what's the
use of having to pay the repairman if you didn't even properly vent your frustation?
If you really want to rock the rock of America, go climb Mount Rushmore or
something.
Just like Permanent
Vacation, this miserable imitation features just one schmaltzy ballad
(ʽSomething About Youʼ, a song that even Diane Warren could never have written
— I think she generally uses a couple more chords in her monstrosities),
buried in a sea of Sex, No Drugs, and a Facsimile of Rock'n'Roll — a sea whose
individual waves roll over and fade away so quickly, it hardly makes sense to
mention them at all. Recommendable only for those who are curious about cross-breeding
«classic» Bad Company with «classic» hair metal. Those who have better plans
for their time can simply follow my thumbs down.
" If your goal is to present yourself to the rest of the world as some sort of orgasmic terror-inspiring sex god of hellfire,"
ReplyDeleteIs the other way round any better? Like
"do it good as you
lickin' on that lickin' stick
the way you do
you got the lips to make a strong man weak
and a heathen pray"
from a band you quite like, from an album you once called Quintessential. And one of your favourite songs goes like this:
"all you women come along with me
and I'll show how good a bad boy can be"
The difference with Bad Co? Beats me.
Well, for starters, AC/DC's lyrics are always funnier and wittier (actually, "I'll show you how good a bad boy can be" is quite a smart find). But that's not the main issue - in either case, the lyrics do not stand on their own, they have to be taken in the context of the voice and the music. I actually wrote that - you addressed the first part of my point without paying attention to the rest of it.
DeleteThen you have some further explanation to do - why are Bon Scott and co funny and are How and Ralphs not? It's me of course, but even as a horny teenager the humour of Go Down and Bad Boy Boogie was lost on me. As far as the context of music goes - I wrote about that in my comment on the album Let there be Rock.
DeleteNot to mention that the very assumption that the quality of music can justify gross lyrics is very dubious. So I strongly suspect that bias pro AC/DC and contra Bad Co plays an important role here. That's OK with me - experiencing art is always subjective - but you should rather admit it.
I don't think funny is really the important word, I would rather use Intelligence. Bon Scott has always sounded like an intelligent person to me, Brian Howe sounds like a total dumbass. Of course a sene of humour plays a large role there, Bon Scott realises the inherent silliness in his musical persona, again, Brian Howe apparently does not.
DeleteAnd, who could watch the video for "Let There Be Rock" and dare to deny that that Bon Scott guy is one charismatic fellow?
Wow, George, I am really surprised and pleased that you reviewed this record. This is one of my all time guilty pleasure albums. This was one of the big three albums for me and my buddies back during our 1988 college days (OU812 and Appetite for Destruction being the other ones). Sure, it is goofball cock rock, but it sounded great in my friend Jeremiah's 1966 Mustang. I don't play it much these days, but I feel I have to keep a copy in my voluminous CD archives.
ReplyDelete