Aerosmith: Get Your Wings

I’ve recently discovered that I come up with albums to review in a fairly roundabout (some might say “unorthodox”) way. Normally, it’s just what I happen to be listening to at the moment, or it might be a certain season starting that takes me back to the first time I heard that album. Nothing too out of the ordinary there, hm?

I tend to think of myself as a reluctant Aerosmith fan; it was “cool” in middle school to like them, but now that my tastes have developed considerably, they’ve become obsolete compared to what I like now. Not that I don’t get enjoyment out of hearing their songs – it’s just that I can’t take them seriously anymore. So the other day, when I was in the bathroom, I looked at the wall clock that’s hanging by the door and saw that the brand name was Chaney. Naturally, I thought of Dick Cheney – itself a disturbing image when one is getting ready to take a shower – and that whole gun incident last year. Hence, “Cheney’s Got A Gun”, and that, inevitably, made me think of Aerosmith. See? Roundabout.

Anyway, I was trying to think of an Aerosmith album that I would want to review, without it degenerating into “oh these guys are so old why are they singing about how great their sex lives are”. (See also any Rolling Stones album from 1983 onward.) That pretty much excluded any of their output from 1987 to present – though I will have to get around to reviewing those albums eventually – so I looked a little further back. In my collection of Aerosmith albums from the 1970s, I only have Get Your Wings, Toys In The Attic, Rocks, and the much-maligned (justifiably so) Night In The Ruts. I decided to give the first album (their second) a spin.

Aerosmith has often been called a pale American version of the Rolling Stones, and it’s hard not to imagine a wasted Keith Richards kicking out the opening, growling guitar riff of ‘Same Old Song And Dance’ on his battered Fender Telecaster. The production is a little too airy when compared to the claustrophobic grit of, say, Exile On Main Street; in that respect, it’s easier to hear Steven Tyler’s seemingly nonsensical lyrics: “Get yourself a coo-la [cooler, I assume], lay yourself low / Coincidental moida [murder, of course] with nothing to show / Judge of constipation will go to his head / His wife’s aggravation, he’ll soon end up dead”. But damn if that riff isn’t catchy, and the combination guitar / saxophone solo, punctuated by footstomps and handclaps, is enough to get one’s foot tapping.

From the title alone, ‘Lord Of The Thighs’ is enough to make one roll one’s eyes, though it’s actually a satisfying, snarling rocker that has been forgotten over time. Tyler’s lyrics, once again, are largely inconsequential, but we’re not here for anything life-changing or earth-shattering here. Besides, isn’t it nice to occasionally have a song written from the view of a pimp as he hussles a sweet honey? Tyler emulates Jagger here so much that it borders on parody, but Joe Perry and Brad Whitford weave their guitars in such a way that it would put Keith Richards and Brian Jones / Mick Taylor / Ron Wood to shame. The Rolling Stones only wish they could rock this hard in 1974. ‘Spaced’, as its title would suggest, is vaguely psychedelic, with a nice echo effect added to Tyler’s vocals, though it still growls as much as anything else Aerosmith is known for. However, despite a nice hook and something resembling a melody, it’s not particularly memorable.

‘Woman Of The World’, however, is, and ranks with ‘Same Old Song And Dance’ as one of the highlights of the album. It takes its time to get started, with a minute-long intro that shifts from a lazy drum shuffle to a double-time rave before settling back into its groove. There’s a nice amount of instrument integration here, with the drums well to the fore, though the bass and guitars get a chance to be heard. It’s hard to imagine Aerosmith playing this song to a packed stadium, with all of its twists and turns, but as an album track it’s excellent, with a scorching guitar solo and coda that, in this Guitar Hero day and age, would be next to difficult to play. (Then again, I’m a Guitar Hero novice, so don’t take my word for it.)

The second side of the album (if you’re listening to vinyl; if it’s on CD or MP3, the last four tracks) kicks off with ‘S.O.S. (Too Bad)’, the first half of the title standing for “same old shit”. Guitars snarl, drums thwack, and Tyler screeches his way around the lyrics, though he sounds almost remorseful by the time the chorus comes around: “I’m a bad, lonely school boy / And I’m a rat / And it’s too bad, can’t get me none of that”. The song doesn’t overstay its welcome, and gets out of the way just in time for an epic cover of the Yardbirds’ ‘Train Kept A-Rollin”, by far the best song on the album. It should come as no surprise that Aerosmith were huge fans of the criminally underrated Yardbirds, and to try to do a song that was a staple of that group’s set would be a set up for inevitable failure; however, Aerosmith’s version smokes the Yardbirds’ version in every way, to the point that it’s almost redefined as an Aerosmith original. The song grooves along nicely for the first half, before a drum solo and slide guitar (cleverly emulating a train whistle) kicks it into high gear, complete with whistles and cheers from an audience, to give it the impression that it’s a live cut. (It’s not.) The song bleeds into ‘Seasons Of Whither’, an epic ballad with another lengthy, atmospheric introduction reminiscent of a winter evening, practically sending shivers down the spine. It should be mentioned that “ballad” is a loose term here; it’s not necessarily a torch song, but it is slower, with plenty of acoustic guitar, though the abundance of electric guitars and a particularly emotive moment when Tyler nearly howls “Take the wind right out of your saaaaaaaaaaails” turns it into a forerunner of the power ballad, that would become popular in the 1980s – and Aerosmith themselves would perfect in time.

‘Pandora’s Box’, a songwriting collaboration between Tyler and drummer Joey Kramer, closes the album in a typically bombastic Aerosmith fashion. Of course, this being Aerosmith, the song isn’t about the mythological Greek jar of untold evils and hope, but instead about … well … you be the judge: “I gotta watch what I say / Or I’ll catch hell from the women’s liberation”. Which is a nice way of summing up Aerosmith’s sophomore effort: unless you’re listening really carefully, you’re bound to miss the sexual innuendo and jokes that abound, instead getting caught up in the catchy hooks and guitar work that’s guaranteed to have you pumping your fists in the air. And there’s certainly no shame in that.

Essential listening: Same Old Song And Dance, Woman Of The World, Train Kept A-Rollin’, Seasons Of Whither