Foreigner – Foreigner
Released March 8th, 1977 on Atlantic Records
The death knell of traditional freewheeling rock ‘n’ roll – the last sound to really embrace it before it all shot off in the direction of punk and metal – was the sound of Foreigner. On paper it was one of those regrettable supergroups that pop up continuously in rock history, like Asia or Velvet Revolver or Divine Fits. Mick Jones, friend of the Beatles and guitarist for Spooky Tooth, got together with Ian McDonald (formerly of King Crimson) and Lou Gramm (from the largely unknown and by-then defunct Black Sheep) to play prog-tinged, flashy rock ‘n’ roll. It seemed, and continues to seem, crassly put together by label executives to sell records and get radio play, but it came out at just the right time to cash in before the revolution.
Boston came out in 1976, and it set the standard for slickly produced prog-pop. Foreigner was a sort of response to it, doubling down on the effort to get sticky melodies and traditionally hard guitar in the heads of radio listeners. Boston, Styx, Supertramp, Foreigner – all of those bands that Adam Sandler is always going on about – dominated rock radio by the end of 1977. It’s drivetime commute music, arena rock that lived up to it’s name. McDonald and Jones’ work did the job admirably, of course; Foreigner is one of those debuts that has a number of indelible singles attached to it that will live on until the youngest of the Boomers has passed on. “Feels Like The First Time” and “Cold As Ice” are anchors on classic rock radio, while “Starrider” and “Long, Long Way From Home” show a somewhat deeper side of the band. “Headknocker” showcases the real enduring problem with Foreigner – Lou Gramm. The songs are always well-written, airtight compositions of rock ‘n’ roll that morphs a little with the times in order to fit in on the radio. Gramm oversings them like he actually believes he’s a rock ‘n’ roll hero and not the singer for a radio friendly unit shifter. Consequently, a song like “Headknocker”, which could be a decently gritty rock tune, gets rendered a little ridiculous by Gramm’s hair-in-the-wind Jesus Christ pose. I’ve always wanted to hear Craig Finn’s take on the song, provided the idea didn’t make him a little queasy.
Change was just around the corner, and within three years you couldn’t sell an album like Foreigner if you tried. It encapsulates the final form of a certain sound that had been knocking around the rock milieu since 1969 and it nails it, more or less. First wave punk, New Wave, and the charge of the hair metal brigade would obliterate it in the end, forcing bands like Foreigner to trade in ever-slicker and desperately hedonistic songs before finally collapsing into Power Ballad Hell. The Eighties could be terribly unkind. Before that ignominy, however, Foreigner functions like an artillery blast in the night, showing that maybe the old guard wasn’t dying quite as quickly as anyone might have thought.
Max Webster – High Class In Borrowed Shoes
Released March 1st, 1977 on Anthem Records
Canadian guitar hero Kim Mitchell, before he found quasi-fame as a solo artist and, much later, the drive time DJ for Toronto’s classic rock powerhouse Q107, was in a little Seventies hard rock band called Max Webster. While better known songs would come from their third album (including “A Million Vacations”), their second album is more consistent. This is pure Seventies prog-pop-rock, make no mistake. If you like Rush but hate all the Ayn Rand fanboying and all the endless concepts, or you like Supertramp but feel like they’re just not cheesy enough, High Class In Borrowed Shoes is the right direction to travel in. The title track, “America’s Veins”, “Rain Child”, and the stoned-in-a-convertible “Oh War” all prove Mitchell’s hard rock guitar chops. “Diamonds, Diamonds” and “Gravity” both play with the proggy concepts a bit more, and “In Context Of The Moon” actually functions pretty well as a killer hard prog song, including the ill-advised disappearance into a keyboard-laden k-hole. “Words To Words” probably fueled a few awkward teenage pregnancies, or at least some of that really, really awkward teenage dancing that Mitchell would later sing about on “Patio Lanterns”. Incidentally, “On The Road” is also just as awful as “Patio Lanterns.” You were warned.
Also, I don’t know what’s up with the cover. Did Canadians just not know how to design things in 1977? Actually, looking back on it, no. No they did not.