Opening with the mother of all sweaty-palmed grade school slow-dance numbers, "Dream On," this collection was, for years, all anyone needed from Aerosmith, except for the glaring and inexplicable omission of the intro to "Sweet Emotion." Still, "Walk This Way," "Last Child" and "Back in the Saddle" form a one-two-three punch that simply can't be played loud enough. "Remember (Walking in the Sand)" is one the band's finest moments, and "Kings and Queens" is downright weird. Basically everybody in America had a copy of this in the '70s.
This was the sound of New York hardcore in 1986: Deft mic-trading routines, producer Rick Rubin appropriating rock samples and real-life rockers ("Walk This Way" with Aerosmith), and Run-DMC's boasts on how "Peter Piper"-styled sucker MCs are on Jam Master Jay's d*ck. There's an undercurrent of misogyny as evinced on "Dumb Girl," and lots of juvenile silliness via "Perfection" and "You Be Illin'." But give props to the Hollis crew: From DMC's booming superhero voice on "My Adidas" to Run's beat-boxing craziness on "Hit It Run," Raising Hell is an early hip-hop watermark.
With plastic surgery victim Steven Tyler grabbing headlines as an American Idol judge, Geffen figured it's the perfect time to release Tough Love, an odd assortment of "ballads." Most of the songs date from the 1987-1993 era; that's Permanent Vacation, Pump, Get a Grip and all those videos starring a deliciously young Alicia Silverstone. A few cuts are real-deal head scratchers, like "Rag Doll" and the ridiculous "Love in an Elevator." Those aren't exactly ballads, right? Sadly, just a single track dates from Aerosmith's golden age in the 1970s: the classic-rock radio staple "Dream On."
Nobody enjoyed the George H.W. Bush administration more than Aerosmith. This best-of spans just three ungodly-huge albums: 1987's Permanent Vacation, 1989's Pump and 1993's Get a Grip. The rockers come fast and furious, from "Love in an Elevator" to all-time best parenthetical "Dude (Looks Like a Lady)," but it's the ballads ("Angel" and "What It Takes" especially) that touch nirvana, if not Nirvana. The randy "Walk on Water," catchy "Blind Man" and splendidly sappy "Deuces Are Wild" (on loan from Beavis and Butt-head) round it out. Seriously though: "What It Takes."
Released in 1973, Boston's best-ever bar band delivered just that, a bar band record. Aerosmith albums usually have a couple more good songs but there still are a few high points here, particularly Joe Perry's constant chuggering and the middle part of "Mama Kin." OK, all of "Mama Kin." Also what would middle school dances have done in the '80s without "Dream On?"
Say what you will about Aerosmith's lowbrow Stones spectacle they evinced back in their drinkin' days. But c'mon, Joe Perry was just as influenced by Jimmy Page as he was by Keith Richards. That means riffs, riffs and more riffs. Add Steve Tyler's disgusting persona, a song as mean-spirited as "Seasons of Wither" and you have about the best FM rock America ever produced.
The title cut is the closest Aerosmith ever got to sounding as safe and smart as Cheap Trick, but they're still the types of dudes you don't want smoking pot with your little sister. "No More No More" rules and there's nothing in rock music like the first couple minutes of "Sweet Emotion." That and "Walk This Way" show the band becoming increasingly interested in funk.
The Aerosmith on 1997's Nine Lives sounds conflicted. In addition to almost breaking up while in the studio, the group couldn't decide whether they wanted to snarl like they did in the '70s or continue pumping out MTV pop for teens. The opening title track, maybe the hardest jam they recorded all decade, certainly argues the former; so does "Something's Gotta Give," which bleeds Rocks-like desperation. But the group also unload "Hole In My Soul" and "Kiss Your Past Good-Bye," gooey power ballads in the vein of "Angel" and "Cryin'" and "What It Takes" and "Crazy" and... oh, you get the point.
The title cut blares one of Joe Perry's best-ever riffs, hands down, while "Bright Light Fright" features the guitarist singing a lead that sounds like Johnny Thunders at his bad ass best. "Kings And Queens" is another middle school slow dance staple. This is pretty much the last Aerosmith album recorded during their golden period. Things get a little spotty after this.
This 1978 live offering finds America's greatest rock band just before they began to fall apart, nevertheless positively cranking through a list that may as well be a collection of greatest hits and badass covers. While the rhythm section is perfectly loosey-goosey and Steven Tyler sure knows how to scream, Joe Perry's truly nasty guitar playing is the main attraction, from the opening riff that "Back in the Saddle" hurtles past to the definitive version of "Train Kept a Rollin'." Their crashing take on The Beatles' "Come Together" was equally revelatory in '78.
Due to years of inner band rife and an all-around drug addled wipe out, Joe Perry left Aerosmith during the recording of this album. His playing is missed, but not a whole lot and the remaining members of the group do an excellent job given the circumstances. The opening cut, "No Surprize," rocks as nastily as any great Aerosmith tune.
Not since KISS' 1977 double disc Alive II has a recording of a live rock show sounded so slick and (dare we say) produced. The story goes something like this: Aerosmith owed Geffin a live album before their contract expired, so 1998 yielded this polished collection of hits that showcases the band's live prowess and Steven Tyler's confident stage banter (listen closely and you can hear that he's celebrating his 50th birthday, which is even more impressive when you hear him hitting all the high notes in old-school classics like "Dream On" and the airtight harmonies in "Love in an Elevator."
The only Aerosmith album recorded without Joe Perry (who was probably somewhere throwing darts at a picture of Steven Tyler at the time), Rock in a Hard Place is generally regarded as a low point for the band by most fans. That's not entirely fair; despite Perry's absence, there are some good songs. "Lightning Strikes" is about as close to classic-era 'Smith as one could ask for; the title cut almost sounds like "Same Old Song and Dance"; and propulsive opener "Jailbait" is anything but crappy. That said, the lack of Perry's guitar is major. It's a good thing they all made up.
Named in honor of the drug they were newly clean of, Done with Mirrors finds Aerosmith in that strange place after their critical peak and before the bell sounded for Round Two of their career, when they took over the world with synthesizers. With Joe Perry back in the fold, the muscularity is back ("Shame on You"), and "My Fist, Your Face" shows Steven Tyler can still turn a phrase. But with their major resurgence two years away, Aerosmith seem to be searching for an identity on Done with Mirrors.
Mostly ringing in 1985 in sweet home Boston on bassist Tom Hamilton's 33rd birthday, with Steve Tyler slurring like he popped open the bubbly early, Classics Live II came out mere months before Aerosmith's comeback, and has the distinction of being their only live or studio album that never charted. The setlist is fairly pro-forma: standbys, mainly, spanning their '70s catalog. Surprise debut-LP memory "Movin' Out" is a bit of a slog; "Let the Music Do the Talking" is a welcome Joe Perry Project/Done With Mirrors nugget. Otherwise, few frills, though these songs are tough to wreck.
The first Aerosmith album of the 21st century is light on pop hits (save the disarmingly sweet "Jaded"), but compensates with a pleasing heaviness: The super-busy title track threatens to go full nü-metal (scratching!) but never quite succumbs. Super-busyness is a theme, actually, with horns, strings, sitars, harmonicas and lotsa disembodied Steven Tyler choral action. The funk-rap vibe on "Outta Your Head" nods to the Red Hot Chili Peppers (great bassline!); if you're a power-ballad fiend, "Fly Away From Here" is your (relatively tasteful!) jam. "Trip Hoppin'" is not what you think.
To cash in on the unexpected success of the Geffen-released Permanent Vacation, Aerosmith's former label Columbia threw together this compilation in time for the 1988 holiday market. A sequel to Aerosmith's Greatest Hits, it contains an abbreviated selection of deep cuts from the group's '70s heyday. Amazingly, there's little drop-off between the two titles, a testament to just how consistent the group were in the age of bell bottoms and feathered hair. One particular nugget to pay attention to is "Chip Away the Stone," a single-only release from '78 that bridges The Stones and hair metal.
From Steve Tyler's first shriek to Joe Perry's muted, hard funk guitars, "Back In the Saddle" is one of the band's weirdest, best numbers. They keep up the eccentric pace with the sleazy robot of "Last Child" (how'd they do that anyway? Even Bowie can't make robots sleazy), proving that Rocks is one of those albums where you can feel a band hitting their stride.
Though Pandora's Box arrived during Aerosmith's power-ballad comeback, the boxed set surveys their Columbia years (1973 to '82, roughly). In addition to the hits, from "Dream On" to "Sweet Emotion," it contains a fat sack of rare, live and previously unreleased material. The snarling, 10-minute rendition of Fleetwood Mac's "Rattlesnake Shake" betrays the influence Peter Green's blues-rock vision exerted on the group. Another revealing slice of history is opener "When I Needed You," a number from Steven Tyler's original band Chain Reaction, who sounded like they were way into The Yardbirds.
Opening up with a balls-out cover of Bo Diddley's "Road Runner" and running through 12 inspired blues, rock 'n' roll and R
With "Dude (Looks Like a Lady)," "Rag Doll" and "Angel," Aerosmith returned to the top of the charts (and stayed there) after years of floundering and straight-up absence. Permanent Vacation was the mega-successful comeback album Done with Mirrors was meant to be. Its ultra-slick production may have jarred longtime fans when it appeared in 1987, but songs like "Heart's Done Time" are still tough, and "Magic Touch" is the best their new style ever got.
Shuffling tapes from a few 1978 and 1984 dates -- that is, during the most underrated period of Aerosmith's career -- this Columbia cash-in after their mid-'80s Geffen jump is frequently ferocious. Opener "Train Kept A-Rollin'" viciously calls and responds; "Sweet Emotion" gets a badass percussive talkbox-psych kickoff; "Lord of the Thighs" stretches to seven minutes of killer grooving rock action. There's even a medley of two forgotten Night in the Ruts boogies. And give or take tacked-on early studio-outtake hoedown lullaby "Major Barbara," the sound is like a bootleg: dirty and cavernous.
Boston's finest weathered the Grunge Era just fine thanks to this MTV-saturating soft-core hootenanny that starts out all macho ("Eat the Rich" is a surly piece of class warfare) but peaks with a series of tender, catchy, frankly magnificent pop smashes: Pick your favorite from "Crazy," "Amazing" and "Cryin'," whose videos starred a barely legal Alicia Silverstone. The album's an ideal middle ground between Rocks and "I Don't Want to Miss a Thing"; if you want to amuse your friends, "Flesh" is just beyond belief: "His sword is sharp and hard as stone/ Her cauldron begs for one more bone."
Originally released in 2001 under the strange title Young Lust: The Aerosmith Anthology, the 34-track Gold is the most thorough of the many greatest-hits packages dedicated to the group's Geffen years (1985 to '93). This, of course, means it's soaked in power balladry ("Angel," "Crazy," "Cryin'" "Amazing," "What It Takes," etc.). But for those fans who prefer old school Aerosmith, Gold also sports decent live recordings of "Sweet Emotion" and "Dream On," as well as several tracks from 1985's Done with Mirrors, an underrated album that has far more in common with their classic '70s sound.
"Love in an Elevator" and "Janie's Got a Gun" revitalized Aerosmith's career thanks to a huge push from radio and MTV. Before Pump went big, Aerosmith had spent years languishing in a boozed-up limbo with much-publicized acrimony between Steven Tyler and Joe Perry. Their choice to get sober proved the right one. Like ZZ Top's Eliminator, the modernizing of the band's sound was jarring at first but has aged well. Joe Perry's snake-boogie guitar in "F.I.N.E." is all the proof you need.
