Author: Flyssy

My obsession with Def Leppard began with a fuzzy clip from In The Round In Your Face on a dusty VCR tape from the Cupboard of Forgotten Music Recordings. Saw a clip of Steve Clark playing his Firebird and I was a goner from there, and so began my second love affair with classic rock – nobody thought I could top the Bon Jovi obsession. They were wrong.

Let’s start with the most obvious one; Pour Some Sugar on Me could not have more dumb testosterone in it if it tried. The riff explodes in a fit of “I am man, I have loud guitar, listen to THIS.” This is helped along by the Man Grunt which furnishes the first verse. Everything about it is ridiculous and horny and stupid; it’s punchy and confident and the perfect strutting song, which is probably what enticed Floridian strippers in the late 80s. If I was a stripper, this would definitely be my song choice, which feels like a fitting accolade.

Love Bites is the one ballad on the album and does a good job of interweaving sex and intimacy (no mean feat for an 80s rock band). The lyrics highlight the power of sexuality in love and captures the emotion behind the lust. It’s an incredibly mature approach to a love song and sounds real, raw and emotional. This also comes through in the music – the long chords, slow tempo and minor key stretch out the deep sensuality of the track. The constant vibrato in the chorus played by Phil Collen is actually both him and Steve Clark playing simultaneously, as it was too difficult for one person to play singlehandedly, and the technique worked well to produce a unique, powerful resonance and a hauntingly beautiful song.

Armageddon It is another of those songs that evokes a sense of euphoria, from the verses studded with punchy guitar parts and ultimately building to a chorus which explodes in enough harmonized happiness to envelop even the most miserable of souls.

Think you might lose interest halfway through the B Side? Nope, you get smacked across with face with Run Riot, the most energetic filler I think I’ve ever heard on a record. The electricity of Run Riot is utterly contagious and completely exhausting to listen to, which doesn’t matter because then you have the calming serenity of the title track itself.

The moment the first bar of Hysteria hits, it’s impossible not to melt into a delirious puddle of relaxation. It’s something in the riff, the chord progression, the resonance – it’s so difficult not to fall in love with this song when it’s a song about falling in love. Not just falling in love, going mad with love. “Dream me off my feet” is just a great line and perfectly captures the feeling of dancing through the feeling of loving somebody, but also of completely surrendering to it.

Gods of War has always felt slightly separate from the rest of Hysteria. This album really has it all – strip club vs heartbreak, the restless impatience of youth and nuclear war! All the food groups. Gods of War is certainly topical for the period during which it was written, containing audios of ‘Maggie Thatcher, milk snatcher’ and the sounds of machine gun fire and falling bombs. Nearly a whole minute of anticipation before that bass kicks in, followed by one of the best riffs I reckon Steve Clark ever wrote. The last chorus culminates in a delicious Photograph-esque descending scale sung by Joe Elliott and it’s genuinely hard to quantify the sheer wall of power that is this song. No notes.

Hysteria is painstakingly well produced and worth the four-year hellfest that characterized its’ creation. The band themselves always say there’s something for everyone among the tracks – try to find somebody who doesn’t like even one song on the record. It’ll probably be Pour Some Sugar on Me, but that still counts.

Still not over the high from Bon Jovi the previous night, I was excited to see out the weekend back at Hyde Park with the Stones. 

Walking around BST is always a great experience. Everyone is always relaxed and happy, and on this occasion, drunk enough to take part in the Brazilian carnival which wove its way past the DJs and funfair rides.

The evening came and the crowd started to assemble. On strolled the Stones and, once settled, exploded into Start Me Up. All the hits followed – Paint It Black, Honky Tonk Women, Brown Sugar. Mick Taylor joined the band for Midnight Rambler, among others. The band still sound really tight, and it almost made you forget the bitterness at not being able to attend the free version of this exact experience in 1965.

The Stones don’t have anything left to prove. Jagger went to introduce everyone, only to see that they’d all disappeared – eventually, he located the others and had to pull Ronnie out from behind the amps because he and Keith had gone to have a smoke. The camaraderie seemed very much alive, and the finale was accompanied by a massive confetti explosion, a piece of which I’ve still got as a souvenir.  

I only recently got properly into Toto – I’ve grown up listening toRosanna and Africa, but it wasn’t until I heard Africa properly that I went away and found more of their songs. Suffice to say, I’m glad I did. I found many songs by them that I loved, but Stop Loving You stood out the most.

Joseph Williams’ voice is exceptional – I loved his singing even before I found out that he voiced adult Simba in Hakuna Matata, a fact that increased my general happiness by approximately 78%. Lyrically, I’ve always been caught between wondering if Stop Loving You is sweet or vaguely obsessive (“I won’t stop till I’m through loving you”) but even if it does ere on the creepier side, Williams, unlike Sting, manages to make it sound happy and not like he’s looking through your window with a telescope. This is probably my favourite Williams song, tied with Pamela, which, by the by, is possibly the snazziest take on a guilt trip I’ve ever heard (“don’t break this heart of mine, it may not heal this time”).

Another element to note is Toto’s legendary harmonies, exhibited on every track from Africa to I’ll Be Over You to Dying On My Feet. Stop Loving You is no exception, and combined with an irresistible hook, you basically end up with a beautifully intrinsic wall of vocal loveliness which will also have you dancing around the kitchen.

Perhaps the fact that each member was a well-respected session musician means that there is no shortage of songwriting talent in Toto; they’re one of those bands at whom I’m amazed at their unending originality, which is helped of course by the instrumentation. Guitarist Steve Lukather’s distortion is a perfect contrast to the soft keyboard sounds created by Paich. All of this is tied together by the world-class drumming of Jeff Porcaro, about whom I have many thoughts, the main one being that I simply worship his talent.

Stop Loving You is an amazing song, and I defy you to listen to it without smiling. Aside from anything else, Joseph Williams’s mullet in the music video is magnificent.

I was once watching a random music channel with my brother, and Bon Jovi’s You Give Love a Bad Name came on. We sat watching the video, and my brother said “those videos just look like they were so much fun to make”. I was half listening to what he was saying and half transfixed by Jon Bon Jovi. Once I’d watched that video, I went away and researched the band and managed to find a video online made up of 5-second clips from every song recorded by Bon Jovi to the present day. I played that video every day religiously, learnt the order of those songs and wrote down the name of the ones I liked the most and thus began my obsession, quite literally overnight. I listened to little else for months, and one day, my dad asked me “what is it about that band in particular? What brought on this sudden overnight obsession?” – the answer lay somewhere in the combination of live videos, hooks and the hair.

Fast forward a year or two, and they’re still easily my favourite band (this is before I properly discovered Def Leppard – but more on that later), so when I heard that they were doing a world tour, I got a little bit excited. However, my hopes were crushed when there was no mention of a London date. For months, nothing. Just as I lost hope, Jon Bon Jovi appeared on TV stating that the band was to play the British Summer Time Festival in Hyde Park in the summer.

I managed to swing the afternoon off school to go to London early and get a good place. The atmosphere around Hyde Park was amazing – roasting day, and I nearly got heatstroke standing in the same spot for three hours, but I wasn’t losing pole position by the barrier. Then, the last opening act finished, and the long wait was over. David Bryan and Tico Torres appeared, followed by Richie Sambora. Then, finally, finally, on walked Jon Bon Jovi, in a bright red vest and holding an acoustic guitar. They opened with You Give Love a Bad Name and my life was complete. They went on to perform practically every song that they’d ever written post-Slippery, as well as performing tracks from their latest album, What About Now. Bad Medicine, Raise Your Hands, It’s My Life all preceded the encore, which everyone was waiting for. The lights went down, and there was a single spotlight. “We’ve got to hold on, to what we’ve got..doesn’t make a difference if we make it or not….” and the whole of Hyde Park went mad. There is nothing like being in a crowd of thousands of people screaming the chorus to Livin’ On a Prayer. 

Sometimes even now, I’ll listen to a Bon Jovi song and reflexively expect to hear another one, and I’ve since realised that it’s because I can still recite the order of the songs in that video.