Mea Culpa Meat Loaf

Photo by Mr.Mushnik and licensed under Creative Commons 2.5

By Art Fredette.

In the summer of 1977, I was 10 years old and trapped every weekend on a drum and bugle corps bus. My sister had decided she wanted to be in the color guard, and the family was all in for the journey, or sentence.  The headiness of the Bicentennial had faded, and all we were left with were horrible clothes and AM radio.  From the wasteland of AM gold, Meat Loaf roared onto the airwaves with “Bat out of Hell.”  For better or worse, this was the soundtrack of that summer.

I clearly remember bouncing along the highways of Upstate New York while every teenage girl on the bus sang along to “Two Out Of Three Ain’t Bad’ at the top of their lungs and out of key, and I prayed for a fiery crash. Sticky vinyl seats in the August heat exasperating the torture with every off-bleated chorus echoing from the rear of the rolling metallic tube. And on top of it all, insult to injury, all of this in the shadow of Elvis dying. I decided right then and there to HATE Meat Loaf the singer forever. I still kinda like the meal.

The years passed, and I survived the summer of ‘77, discovered new bands and sounds, and sort of forgot Meat.  Then, I started to mobile-DJ, and he was back!  Back with a vengeance – every weekend, without fail, someone would request “Paradise by the Dashboard Light.”. Could I ever escape this album?  Was I trapped forever in Jim Steinman’s overblown theatrical purgatory of excess?  At least it wasn’t “Celebration” by Kool and the Gang. But still … really?

But time passes, and tastes change, past traumas fade (drum corps weekend excursions), and old convictions fade.  So cold and lonely on a deep dark night, I took the time to revisit the Meaty one and the album that made him. I will admit that his performance in “Rocky Horror” had helped to soften my resistance.  With headphones on, so no one will know my sin, I dropped the needle on the record.  Would I be reviled, would my ears bleed, would the Ramones crawl out of my closet and beat me with broken guitar strings for the sin I was committing? Maybe, but nothing ventured, etc.

When the album ended, I was still alive and, dare I say, impressed.  The damn thing was near perfect, and why wouldn’t it be? Todd Rundgren was the producer, and members of the E Street Band were all over it. Meat Loaf, for all his excess, was perfect in his delivery, and his theatrical bent gave the songs the life they deserved. This was pure over-the-top excess, and I loved it. I did say the record was “near” perfect. Six of the seven tracks on this record move smoothly within the theme and flow with an odd grace.  The only sore thumb is “Paradise”; it lacks the Hammer movie majesty of the rest of the LP.  If it were left off, “Bat Out of Hell” would have been a rock opera to be reckoned with.

I guess what it all comes down to, in the end, is even a music snob like myself can eventually and begrudgingly admit that sometimes what we believe sucks … doesn’t. So bless me, Father, for I have sinned. I have listened to Meat Loaf, and I liked it. Sort of. Now say five “Sweet Jane”s and five “Satisfaction”s and sin no more.