John Cena has everything wrestling promoters revere.  He’s well-built, good-looking, has a ton of charisma, and delivers in big match situations.   He sells a ton of merchandise, is an ambassador for the business, and goes out of his way for charity.  He should be the biggest babyface in the 40-year history of World Wrestling Entertainment, but he is reviled by half of the audience.  Why?

The answer is simple: John Cena is a superhero.  Every month he has a new enemy to vanquish.  He’ll get beaten down, but he’s never in peril.  You know that even though Mark Henry or Kane is booked to be a monster, Cena will hit him with the Attitude Adjustment and move on.  This goes against the most basic principle of professional wrestling.

A babyface is supposed to be a normal human being under extraordinary circumstances.  He is the blank slate for the fans to project their hopes, dreams and desires.  If you can’t identify with the hero, then the heel’s ultimate defeat is meaningless.  Fans cannot identify with John Cena, because he has no flaws.  He doesn’t get distracted by the cheers of the crowd, he never bleeds, and he has no discernable ego.  There is no reason for anyone over 12 to get behind him.

Dusty Rhodes is the polar opposite of John Cena.  He’s middle-aged, fat and has a speech impediment, yet he is arguably the greatest babyface in the history of the business.  I’ll let him explain why.

Every young babyface should be forced to watch “Hard Times” at least once a day.  Rhodes gives his entire reason for being in three and a half minutes.  He is a family man that doesn’t particularly care to fight anymore, but Ric Flair and the Four Horsemen have pushed him to his breaking point.   He admits that he is not perfect, but he will do his best.  This line is key:

“I HAVEN’T FORGOTTEN THE LOVE THAT WAS GIVEN TO ME, AND I WILL REPAY YOU BY BECOMING THE WORLD’S HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION.”

Rhodes wants the title so he can repay the fans for their kindness.  While the babyface doesn’t need to be entirely selfless, the fans are always their motivation for getting into the squared circle.  For of all of Cena’s talk about his Chain Gang, he has never been able to connect with his audience on an intimate level.   If he can do that, the catcalls will disappear.

The reason professional wrestling has survived for a century is because human beings have an innate need to see good conquer evil.  With all the changes in the pop cultural landscape, that one trope remained constant, from Bruno Sammartino to Steve Austin.  If the babyface is replaced by Superman, this American art form will cease to exist.   Without conflict, there is no drama.

Remember when I used to be a writer?  That was awesome, right?  2011 was a really intense year for me, so my “career,” unfortunately fell by the wayside.  However, I never stopped listening, so here are my favorite records of 2011.  Before I get started, I want to give shoutouts to a couple people.  Thanks to Nick Jackson and Kelly Lavelle for making my site look so incredible.  If you want an amazing website, get in touch with these two.  They know what they are doing, and they put up with my impossible demands.  Thanks, guys.  I really appreciate your help and I am in your debt.

I also want to say that Mixtape Muse is one of the best blogs on the web, run by my buddy Quinn S., whose skills are lightyears beyond mine.  It’s already blowing up, but it’s going to be the blog to watch in 2012.  Plus, he writes cool power pop songs, and the world needs more of those.

But enough of my yakking, let’s boogie!

1. Anthrax: Worship Music (Thrash ain’t dead!)

2. The Roots: Undun (Gold, Jerry)

3. Real Estate: Days

4. The Biters: All Chewed Up

5. Butch Walker and the Black Widows: The Spade

6. Mastodon: The Hunter

6. Dum Dum Girls: Only in Dreams

7. Smith Westerns: Dye it Blonde

8. Fucked Up: David Comes to Life

9. Sloan: The Double Cross

10. Wye Oak: Civillan

Honorable Mentions

Florence and the Machine: Ceremonials

The Copyrights: North Sentinal Island

Motorhead: The World is Yours

Megadeth: Thirteen

Drive-By Truckers: Go-Go Boots

The Horrible Crowes: Elsie

The Happen-Ins: s/t

TV On the Radio: Nine Types of Light

Ryan Adams: Ashes and Fire

Will Dailey and the Rivals: s/t

Favorite Box Set:

The Beach Boys: Smile

Favorite Reissues:

Elvis is Back! (shocking, no?)

The Rolling Stones: Some Girls

Biggest Disappointment:

Lady Gaga: Born This Way (Where did the hooks go, Germanotta? WHERE DID THE HOOKS GO?!)

Most Inessential Album:

Justin Bieber: Under the Mistletoe (I’ll take A Christmas with Shaun Cassidy, thank you very much.)

Way to be Ahead of the Curve, John (Albums I Discovered This Year)

Superdrag: Regretfully Yours

Sunny Day Real Estate: Diary

The Jayhawks: Hollywood Town Hall

Rose Tattoo: s/t

The Undertones: s/t

Mission of Burma: Signals, Calls and Marches (I know, and you can all shut up)

Count Basie: The Atomic Mr. Basie

Sam Cooke: Live at the Harlem Square Club (Thanks to Scott Mullins for that one)

Waylon Jennings: Lonesome On’ry and Mean

Kinks: Kinda Kinks

Audio Comfort Food

Cheap Trick: At Budokan

Iron Maiden: Anything, but usually Powerslave, Live After Death or Somewhere in Time

The Ramones: Anything, but usually It’s Alive!

Rush: Moving Pictures

The Faces: Five Guys Walk Into a Bar

The Marvelous 3: ReadySexGo!

Pretty Boy Floyd: Leather Boyz With Electric Toyz

Bruce Springsteen: Born to Run

Superchunk: No Pocky For Kitty

Al Green’s Greatest Hits

From Elvis in Memphis

The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan

David Bowie: Young Americans

The Clash: Give Em Enough Rope

Elton John’s Greatest Hits

Guns n’ Roses: Appetite for Destruction

The Gaslight Anthem: The ’59 Sound

Rod Stewart (who is AWESOME, despite what certain people think) Every Picture Tells a Story

Frank Sinatra: Songs for Swingin’ Lovers!

The Replacements: Tim

Poison: Look What the Cat Dragged In

I told you the extra lists would be super fun.  Feel free to comment and let me know that I have no taste.  See you in 2012

Freak of the Week at Ram\’s Head Live

In 1999, Butch Walker’s power pop band, The Marvelous 3, scored a top five hit with “Freak of the Week,” a song about an indie band getting a taste of fame.  When the song fell off the charts, the band was promptly forgotten by their label, and left to wallow in Buzz Ballads purgatory.

When Walker played “Freak of the Week” during his acoustic set at Ram’s Head Live, the crowd roared.  Not because it was the song they came to hear, but because it has become a rarity.  Butch Walker is no longer the lead singer of The Marvelous 3, but his own man.  The Marvies and Left of Self-Centered certainly introduced some of the crowd to Butch Walker (myself included), but nobody was there to huddle under a warm blanket of nostalgia.

Butch Walker has a few well-known songs, but not a signature.  Because of this, he can play what he wants. He can open the show with an acoustic set, or he can storm the stage with his Les Paul blazing.  Like any artist with a robust body of work, there are a few songs you can generally count on, but nothing is a sure thing.  That is what makes a Butch Walker show special.  Even “Cigarette Lighter Love Song,” the closest thing he has to a signature song, gets played with.  The first time I saw him, he did it with a full band, like on the album.  The second time, he was on the piano.  At Ram’s Head last week, he scrapped the instrumentation entirely, performing the song a cappella.

Hardcore fans often lament the fact that Butch Walker isn’t a bigger star, that he should be selling out theatres instead of playing clubs.  He should.  However, watching Butch at Ram’s Head, I realized that if he had a huge hit single, he would have to make certain concessions.  The loose, freewheeling structure of his show would be gone.  He would have to play the hits, and concentrate on what the fans of that single wanted to hear.  They wouldn’t want to hear the evolution of Butch as a songwriter, which is what the crowd at Ram’s Head was lucky enough to get.  They didn’t get a Butch Walker show, they got his musical history; from the guitar duel of “Freebird”, to the Marvelous 3, to The Black Widows.  Butch wouldn’t have it any other way.

Sebastian Bach is one of heavy metal’s great interpreters.  Dave “The Snake” Sabo and Rachael Bolan were good songwriters, and Skid Row would have probably been successful with another singer, but Bach took their songs and shaped them into molten slabs of rock.  He has the combustible mixture of technical virtuosity and personal charisma that all great singers possess, regardless of genre.

So where is it?  Sebastian Bach rarely sounds like Sebastian Bach on Kicking and Screaming, his first solo album in almost five years. Listening to Sebastian Bach sing was like watching a great actor perform Shakespeare.  He would pick apart every lyric and figure out where to inject his trademark mannerisms.  He was so good at his craft that it never felt like showbiz trickery.  On Kicking and Screaming, every Bachism is intact, but they feel tacked on.  He’s screaming because he feels he has to, not because it fits the music.

You could make the argument that Bach is just trying to work with the material he was given.  If this was the case, I would be more forgiving, but Bach co-wrote many of the songs.  Bach is still writing from a 19 year old’s point of view.  He’s misunderstood, he’s full of aggression, and he’s still untouchable.  Metal is an ageless genre, but Bach is trying to portray the guy from the “Youth Gone Wild” video.  He’s not that guy anymore, and he hasn’t been for a long time. Besides, even if you write from a place of arrested development, couldn’t you come up with a better line than “I’m the original crazy/in a world that I never known?”

The lyrics are complimented by the most generic heavy metal that Bach has ever lent his vocals to.  The metal press has made a big deal over Bach’s latest axe-slinger, 21 year old prodigy, Nick Sterling, but he doesn’t bring much to the table.  He can shred, but his playing isn’t very distinctive.  His style consists of by-the-numbers metal riffing with a flashy but faceless solo on top.  His playing is also hindered by the terrible production, which is as clean and septic as a hospital hallway.

When Skid Row released Slave to the Grind two decades ago, it was a quantum leap from the rebellious party rock of their self-titled debut.  On that record, Sebastian Bach sounded like he was capable of anything.  Now he’s just another guy, trading on past glories.  Bach’s voice is still there, but the fire is gone.  It’s a damn shame.

Clarence Clemons is dead.  I never thought I’d type that sentence.  Clemons’ enormous personality made him seem immortal.  When the notes poured out of his saxophone, he was no longer a person, but a force of nature.  When I saw The Working on a Dream tour in the spring of 2009, he was clearly in pain.  He sat down for most of the show, rising only when his horn was needed.  When he put the sax to his lips, his physical problems disappeared.

I discovered Bruce Springsteen late in my musical life.  My parents were never fans, so I only had exposure to what I saw on Pop-Up Video, which was limited to “Glory Days” and “Dancing in the Dark.”  Both of them are good, but they aren’t a proper gateway.  It wasn’t until I bought Born to Run my junior year of college that I understood why Bruce Springsteen was so revered.  I felt the way his characters felt; isolated, confused and desperate to seek new horizons.  The sound was so grand, so huge.  Human emotions were blown up to cinematic proportions, which is a perfect snapshot of being in your early 20s.  You are technically an adult, but you are still searching for an identity.

Born to Run is Clarence Clemons’ finest hour.  His solos provide the hope in the bleak landscape Springsteen created.  His characters are stuck in a dead-end Jersey town, committing petty crimes that will put them in jail or kill them, but when the sax comes in, everything is going to be all right, even if it’s only for a few seconds.  Clemons often told stories of fans telling him that his solo in “Jungleland” saved their lives.  I don’t doubt it.  In my opinion, it is the most uplifting piece of music ever committed to tape.  I’ve heard it a million times, but I still get a lump in my throat.  Things are going to get better.

When I saw the E-Street Band perform, the thing that struck me was that they genuinely seemed to like each other.   The love and respect Bruce and Clarence had for each other was on full display.  When Springsteen introduced The Big Man in his over the top way, it wasn’t a rote piece of business, but because Clarence was the core of the E-Street Band sound.  As Bruce put it, “With Clarence at my side, the band and I were able to tell a story far deeper than those contained in our music. His life, his memory and his love will live on in that story and in our band.”

Many blogs have speculated whether or not the E-Street Band will continue.  Frankly, it’s not my place.  I’m grateful for the music that they gave us, and thankful that I got to see Clarence Clemons in person.

God bless you, Big Man.

The career of Elvis Presley is usually broken into two arcs.  The first is Young Elvis, the greasy haired hillbilly with a dangerous sneer and gyrating pelvis.  The second is Gilded Elvis, the overweight drug addict in a white sequined jumpsuit, belting out “My Way” as rivers of sweat poured from his black helmet of hair.  However, there is an arc in Elvis Presley lore that is often overlooked by the general public and rock critics alike, The Pop Idol.

Contrary to John Lennon’s belief, Presley’s artistic sprit did not die when he went into the army.  On the contrary, he entered RCA’s newly minted studio in Nashville with an unquenchable thirst to prove that he was more than just a rock n’ roll singer.  Revisionist history has painted Elvis’ post-army direction as Colonel Tom Parker exerting control over his client.  This theory could not be further from the truth.  Rock n’ roll was on shaky ground in 1960.  Little Richard had gone into the ministry, Chuck Berry was in jail, Jerry Lee Lewis was blackballed for marrying his fourteen year old cousin, and Buddy Holly, Richie Valens and The Big Bopper perished in an Iowa cornfield.  Rock became a genre of singles, one hit wonders and clean cut teenagers.  Rock n’ roll was not a career.  Elvis Presley was savvy enough to realize this, and knew he had to do an about face.

Shortly before the album’s release, Elvis was Frank Sinatra’s special guest on a Timex television special entitled Welcome Back Elvis.  In a moment of pop culture detente, Sinatra crooned a few verses of “Love Me Tender,” as Elvis shook his hips to “Witchcraft.”  Cynical critics wrote the duet off as Elvis paying his respects to the old guard.  When Elvis is Back was released shortly after, critics and fans alike were surprised at how traditional it sounded.  The arrangements were more subdued.  Elvis voice was deeper, smoother and rarely quivered or hiccupped.  “It’s Now or Never” could have been sung by Eddie Fischer or Mario Lanza.  It didn’t smack of danger as his earlier albums had, which is probably why some fans saw it as a betrayal.  There is nothing rebellious about a man in a white turtleneck.

Elvis is Back doesn’t sound like a revolution, but it’s arguably the best he album he ever made.  The reason it works is because the songs were well chosen, the musicianship was impeccable and Elvis Presley was determined to prove that he was more than a hick from Tupelo Mississippi.  When Elvis was engaged, he could make even the most saccharine song work.  Take “Are You Lonesome Tonight,” one of his best known songs from this period.  It’s maudlin, overwrought and a touch melodramatic, and features the most ridiculous monologue in the history of recorded music.  In the hands of Perry Como, Tennessee Ernie Ford or even Andy Williams, it would be resigned to late-night Time Life infomercials, but Elvis’s interpretation keeps it relevant.  Like his hero Marlon Brando, he brings his own experiences to every song he sings.  On the surface, “Are You Lonesome Tonight” is addressed to Pricilla Beaulieu, the gorgeous American teenager he dated while stationed in Germany.  However, he could also be singing about his own feelings of isolation after losing his mother two years before.  It could be interpreted a dozen different ways, making it one of his most unfairly maligned performances,

But he had to betray his rock n’ roll credibility for such a performance, right?  Wrong.  In the middle of all the sweet and syrupy pop comes “Reconsider Baby,” one of the toughest songs Elvis ever recorded.  Over a slinky acoustic guitar and Boots Randolph seductive saxophone, Elvis snarls his way through the Lowell Fulson classic.  He no longer sounds like a greasy-haired trucker from Tupelo, but an experienced veteran who has experienced the world outside of his hometown.  He may be asking the girl to reconsider, but he knows that he is capable of getting any female in the world.

Elvis is Back! proved that Elvis Presley’s appeal went beyond the rock n’ roll ghetto, but his new style quickly became an albatross around his neck.  He became seduced by the easy paychecks of lightweight Hollywood musicals, and exerted less control over the songs he sung.  As the ‘60s became “The ‘60s,” Elvis’s pop leanings became archaic.  He stopped caring, and released some of the most mediocre music of his career, which has blurred the greatness of Elvis is Back!  As with his late ‘60s comeback, there is a ton of wasted potential.  If Elvis had remained motivated, what could he have accomplished?   Unfortunately, this question would never be answered.

There comes a time in every rock critic’s career where you have an Almost Famous moment. A moment when your naïve vision of what rock journalism is like comes true.  Mine occurred at the inaugural M3 Rock Fest in 2009.   People who stared at me from album covers and posters my entire life became living figures, walking past me, riding golf carts and sharing beers with each other. Dee Snider was laughing with Don Dokken.  Ron Keel was reminiscing with Mark Slaughter.  Stephen Pearcy was shaking hands with Gary Cherone.  It was a high school reunion with leather pants.

Every 20 minutes, a white van with tinted windows would pull up and someone would get out.  Around 2:30, ex-Warrant singer Jani Lane arrived.  His red, puffy face and engorged belly was far removed from the lithe rocker he once was.  He was immediately surrounded by his peers, who slapped his back and told him how good he looked.  Jani was all smiles, lapping up the attention.

After the crowd thinned out a bit, he approached me.

“How are you, Jani?” I asked.

“I’m good, man,” he said, clearly jazzed that I knew who he was.  “I’m really excited to be here! I can’t wait to get out there and rock! Are you ready to rock?”

“Always, dude.  It’s been a great day so far.” I said.

“That’s great, man! I love to hear that! What’s your name, bro?”

“John.”

“NO WAY!” he exclaimed.  “That’s my name too! Awesome!  So what do you do, John?”

“I’m a writer,” I said. “I’m covering this event for my blog, Rant n’ Rave With John.  May I interview you?”

“YEAH!” he enthused.  “I’d love that.  Maybe we could do it after my set or something.  Are you going to watch my show?”

“Definitely. “

“Awesome.  Is there a song I can play for you?” he asked

“Could you play ‘I Saw Red’?”

Jani’s eyes grew wide.  He took a step back.  I thought he was going to burst into tears, but he composed himself.

“I’d fucking love to play that song for you,” he said, and then went into the inner-sanctum.

Jani Lane was no longer an A-list rock star, but he hadn’t forgotten how to command an audience.  He had them pumping their fists in the air and chanting every chorus.  He was embracing the past that he had run from for so long.  After a rousing rendition of “Dirty Rotten Filthy Stinking Rich,” a roadie handed him an acoustic guitar.

“Thank you all for coming,” he said. “I’d like to dedicate this next song to my new friend, John.”

He took a deep breath and began to play “I Saw Red.”  As he played the opening chords, Jani Lane disappeared.  He was replaced by John Oswald, singer/songwriter.  We were no longer in Meriwether Post Pavilion, but a small club.  He finished the song to a wave of applause.  Oswald put down the guitar, and bowed.  When he came back up, his guitarist played the riff to “Cherry Pie.”  Jani Lane had returned, but for three minutes, we got a glimpse of what he could have been.

An hour after his set, Jani came running over to me.

“Hey, John! I’m glad you’re still here! I wanted to make sure I signed a picture for you!”

“Thanks, Jani!” I said.  “I really enjoyed your set.  You sound great.”

“Thank you so much, dude.  I’m really glad you came,” he said, scribbling his signature on an 8×10 glossy.  “Did I do the song justice?”

“If Elvis Costello had written ‘I Saw Red,’ Rolling Stone would be creaming themselves over it.  It’s one of my favorite songs of all time.”

Jani smiled and handed me the picture.

“That means the world to me, John.  Thank you.  I’m going to go do a meet and greet and then we’ll do our interview, OK?”

“Sounds good, man.”

He gave me a hug and got onto a waiting golf cart.  I never saw him again.

Oh well, 13 years is a damn good run.

Photo credit: Rock Eyez.com

Author’s note: I conducted this interview at last year’s M3 Fest.

For over two decades, Steve Riley has provided the backbeat for L.A. Guns, one of the sleaziest bands to emerge from L.A.’s Sunset Strip.  Before joining the Guns in 1987, Riley was a journeyman, pounding the skins for Steppenwolf and W.A.S.P.  I sat down with Steve to discuss playing in Baltimore, the songwriting process and the dangers of flaming signs.

L.A. Guns comes through Baltimore a lot.  When did you first come here?

Steve Riley: I first came to Baltimore in 1984 when I was with W.A.S.P.  We were touring with Metallica and Armored Saint.  We played a club called the Coast to Coast and it was packed out the door. Metallica had just come out with Ride the Lightning and we had just released the first W.A.S.P. album.  That was an infamous tour.

Where was the club located? Near Hammerjacks?

SR: It was down where Camden Yards is now. It had a really low ceiling, but was really big.  The show was a complete mob scene.

What was it like following Metallica every night?

SR: Well, we switched off every night. W.A.S.P. would headline one night and then Metallica would headline the next night.

Were you in competition with each other?

SR: Not really.  We became really good friends with them and it was an entirely different style of music.

W.A.S.P. was a very theatrical band.  When you played clubs with them, did you have to tone it down?

SR: Yes.  I think that was one of the big mistakes with W.A.S.P.  After I joined, we went to Europe right away and recorded Live at the Lyceum with all the blood and the meat.  We took that all over the world, but stopped doing it when we got back to the States.  We were still theatrical over here, but not like overseas.  We went crazy over there.

Didn’t you have a girl that would be stretched out on a rack?

SR: We dropped her too.  We dropped all the shocking stuff.  I thought we needed to go back to the States with it but (W.A.S.P. singer) Blackie (Lawless) didn’t want to.

Do you have any memories of Hammerjacks?

SR; Oh man, that was such a crazy time.  I played there a couple times with W.A.S.P. and a bunch of times with L.A. Guns.  It was one of the best rock clubs in the country.  It was always packed to the balcony.  Now it’s a ballpark.  Camden Yards is right there.

You guys have a new record coming out soon.  What is the recording process like for you guys?

SR: We’re actually not going to tour behind a full album.  We’d be stuck on a small label with no distribution and no record stores, so we don’t want to go that route anymore. We’re just going to record five songs and put them on iTunes, so the fans can get to them right away. We’re gonna test those waters, because we haven’t done that yet. We have plenty of material, we just need to get in there and do it.

How has the digital marketplace changed the process?

SR: For an older band like us, it’s a godsend. Digital recording is much quicker, and you can take a line and double it quickly. It really helps the vocalist.  Analog recording sounds great and everything, but it was a really slow process.  You were in the studio for hours and hours.

For example, how long did it take to record Cocked and Loaded?

SR: That was actually a pretty easy process.  We wrote material for about six months, went in the studio for five weeks and then released it quickly.

The follow-up, Hollywood Vampires, took much longer?

SR: Yeah, that came out two years later, in 1991.  It took forever because we were in preproduction for six months and in the studio for five. We didn’t even tour behind it in the States.  The band dissolved because we were so burnt out. It had been five years of nonstop movement and when Hollywood Vampires came out, we were burnt to a crisp. I liked the way it turned out, but it’s a bit disjointed.

Music had changed as well.

SR: Yeah, the whole Seattle scene was like a tidal wave coming at us. Like a lot bands, we panicked. Looking back on it, it was just a natural change. We didn’t need to panic, because there is always a new scene coming up.  The ‘80s metal scene was getting fat anyway.  Labels were signing a bunch of shitty bands.  It got to the point where labels were signing anything that remotely looked like a rock band. There was no substance.

You guys were sleazier than the glam bands.

SR: Yeah, we always tried to keep a street sense about us and not be fluffy.

Even though you never were truly glam, you did have a hit power ballad with “The Ballad of Jayne,” about 50s sex symbol, Jayne Mansfield.  How did the song come about?

SR: It started as a simple blues song, and then (lead singer) Phil (Lewis), (guitarist) Mick (Cripps) and (bassist) Kelly (Nickels) took the music that we recorded and came up with the melody that became “The Ballad of Jayne.” Phil came in with new lyrics about Jayne Mansfield, and there it was.  Phil put a really nice touch on that.

Did you know it was going to be a hit after hearing the final mix?

SR: Yes, because it had a really good hook. It kind of stuck out like a sore thumb on the album, so we couldn’t jump on it right away. We launched the album with “Never Enough” and things like that so we could build to “The Ballad of Jayne.”  We knew it was going to be a special song.

Do you remember the first time you played it?

SR: Yeah, man. People liked it right away.  The first time we played it in LA, there was an immediate reaction.   I heard the crowd and I knew we had our first top 40 hit.

And the video was in heavy rotation on MTV.

SR: The video was really well done.  It had a dreamlike quality to it, and it was filmed on (former Filipino dictator) Ferdinand Marcos’ old estate in LA.

Really?

SR: Yup.  Crazy, right?  I think the song still holds up today.

So you never get tired of playing it?

SR: Nope, because if you are lucky enough to have a song that resonates with people, that’s what it’s all about.

Yeah, although Phil has a love/hate relationship with “Sex Action.”

SR: (laughs) We all do, because we had to play it so much. For the first year we were on tour, we only had one album, so we could only play that material.  Phil really got sick of it because he had to sing it so much.  Everywhere we went, it was “Sex Action,” “Sex Action,” “Sex Action.”  It got old after awhile.  I love the song now. It’s a killer rock song.

Has the songwriting process changed since the early days?

SR: Not really. Everyone contributes.  Someone usually brings an idea and then the band pieces it together. After the band has worked things out musically, we give it to Phil and he writes the lyrics and melodies.  That’s how we’ve always done it.   Or (guitarist) Stacey (Blades) comes in with a riff, and we come up with a verse and a chorus to make some sense out of it and then we put it together with Phil in the room.

So it’s an organic process?

SR: Yes.  Phil is a really great songwriter, and it’s not easy to write good melodies and good hooks.  I don’t think he gets enough credit.  He comes up with all of that himself.   For example, “I Wanna Be Your Man,” was just a riff, but Phil gave it the melody. He writes all the lyrics and all the melodies. The band puts the music together.

Phil is British, so was there a culture shock when he joined the band?

SR: Not really, because Phil had already been to The States.  Remember the actress Brit Ecklund from the ‘70s?  Phil went out with her for a few years, so he’d already had a taste of Hollywood and everything.  He fit right in.

You’ve been in Steppenwolf, W.A.S.P. and L.A. Guns.  That’s basically three different genres of music.  Did you have to change your drumming style for each band?

SR: Not for L.A. Guns and Steppenwolf, but for W.A.S.P.  I had to become a double kick drummer right away.  It was a real challenge playing those songs, and it gave me a real workout every night.

You also had the flaming logo behind you.  Did you ever worry about catching on fire?

SR: Nope, because it was my job to light the sign every night (laughs)! I got used to a lot of shit happening around me.

1. Superchunk: Majesty Shredding

Superchunk had been a gaping hole in my indie rock education.  I’d read all the critical acclaim, but never bothered to pick up No Pocky for Kitty or On the Mouth. When my boss put Majesty Shredding on my desk, I approached it with some trepidation because latter day works by respected artists are usually a terrible gateway.  The moment the record stopped playing, I slapped the disc on my bosses’ desk and said, “This needs to be added to our playlist today.”

Majesty Shredding has everything I look for in a rock record.  The huge guitars are balanced by catchy pop melodies.  The choruses are anthemic and awash in harmony.  Majesty Shredding is proof that a veteran band can continue to make relevant music two decades into their career.

Key Tracks:“Digging for Something,” “My Gap Feels Weird,” “Crossed Wires”

2. The National: High Violet

High Violet is a record that rewards you for paying attention.  I hate that I actually typed that sentence, but there is no other way to describe it.  When I played High Violet for the first time, it all ran together.  The band’s deliberate playing and Matt Berringer’s moody baritone merge to make a drone. With every listen, I discovered something new.  The National is the only band in the world that can write about zombies without sounding completely ridiculous.

Key Tracks: “Bloodbuzz Ohio,” “Conversation 16,” “Anyone’s Ghost”

3. Robyn: Body Talk

2010 was not a banner year for mainstream pop music.  It was the year of Katy Perry ejaculating whipped cream from her flesh terrace, Justin Bieber’s Canadian swagger and Ke$ha.  Lady Gaga got more press for her meat dress than her pop hooks.   In the midst of all the hype and hot air, Robyn quietly released three EPs of sublime pop, each one catchier than the last.  A refugee of the mid-90s teen pop boom, Robyn’s songs are compulsively danceable, but with meaningful insights about relationships.  There are a million pop songs about unrequited love, but “Dancing on My Own” is one of the few that is truly honest.

Key Tracks: “Dancing on My Own,” “Hang With Me,” “Time Machine”

4. Kanye West: My Beautiful, Dark, Twisted Fantasy

People love to hate Kanye West.  They love to hate him because it’s fun to boo a villain when the stakes aren’t very high.  Interrupting Taylor Swift’s VMA acceptance speech isn’t going to start any world wars, but it sells magazines.  After listening to Kanye’s first post-Swift-gate album, I think people hate Kanye West because he’s so good at what he does.   Twisted Fantasy is exactly what Lil Wayne’s Rebirth should have been, a weird, wonderful funhouse of every musical genre, held together by West’s schizophrenic yet oddly literate rantings (Sample lyric: “I was the abomination of Obama’s nation.”).  West has the balls to put a King Crimson sample in a lead single and make it work by sheer force of will.

Key Tracks: “Power,” “Devil in a New Dress,” “Runaway”

5. Sleigh Bells: Treats

2010 was a big year for lo-fi indie duos, but Sleigh Bells’ debut put them at the top of their class.  The first thing that hits you is Derek Miller’s guitar, which bludgeons the listener with short bursts of distortion.  Then Alexis Krauss comes in, tempering Miller’s distortion with her voice, which is the picture of innocence.  However, Krauss’ persona changes on a dime, cooing above the guitars one second, growling with them the next.  The push/pull between the two is what makes Treats such a fascinating record.

Key Tracks: “Infinity Guitars,” “Riot Rhythm,” “Crown on the Ground”

6.     LCD Soundsystem: This is Happening

The set began in darkness, with four notes drifting from a solitary keyboard.  After a few minutes, a single spotlight lands on James Murphy.  He barely moves and holds the microphone so close to his face that you can’t see his mouth.  At the end of every verse, his delivery becomes more passionate, and more instruments join the menagerie of sound.  Then the drums come in and the lights go up.  20,000 people bounce in unison.  The effect is overwhelming.  If This is Happening turns out to be LCD’s last album, what a way to go.

Key Tracks: “Dance Yrself Clean,” “Pow, Pow,” “You Wanted a Hit”

7.     The Sword: Warp Riders

There is a lot of debate in the heavy metal community over whether The Sword is a real metal band, or if there is a layer of irony in their work.  Warp Riders hopefully put the doubts to rest.  You can’t have a twin guitar attack that tight without being students of the game.  The riffage is enough to make even the most jaded metal dude bang his head with joy.  Put your horns up for this one.

Key Tracks: “The Chronomancer Part I: Hubris,” “Night City,” “The Warp Riders”

8. Drive-By Truckers: The Big To-Do

The Big To-Do refers to the arena rock concerts that Drive-By Truckers’ Patterson Hood attended as a youth in Alabama.  In a smoky arena, the young Hood saw AC/DC, Thin Lizzy and Ozzy Osbourne provide an escape to thousands of kids looking for a respite from their everyday lives. The Big To-Do begins with “Daddy Learned to Fly,” a song that could have been on a Molly Hatchet record.   The album gets darker with each song, touching on murder, alcoholism and dead-end jobs.  The message: A big rock show can provide an escape, but real life never goes away.

9. The Arcade Fire: The Suburbs

Only The Arcade Fire could turn something as banal as Suburbia and turn it into an epic landscape.  Largely inspired by brothers Win and William Butler’s Texas childhood, the album is an art-rock record with arena rock sensibility.  Butler sings of spending time driving around with nothing to do, staring out the window dreaming of the world beyond. Although these sentiments are framed as distant memories, Butler cannily notes that not much has changed: “You watch the life you are living disappear / and now I see, we’re still kids in buses trying to be free.”

Key Tracks: “We Used to Wait,” “Ready to Start,” “Sprawl II: Mountains Beyond Mountains”

10. The Gaslight Anthem: American Slang

Three years ago, The Gaslight Anthem was an up and coming band building a solid reputation as an amazing live act.  In 2010, they were anointed rock’s next big thing.  There was a lot riding on this record, and American Slang largely lived up to the hype.  The band largely stripped away the rockabilly influence of The ’59 Sound and replaced it with a more soulful approach.  The sound may have changed, but the heart is still a mile wide.  The stage has gotten bigger, but these Jersey boys haven’t forgotten where they came from.

Key Tracks: “American Slang,” “The Queen of Lower Chelsea,”  “The Diamond Church Street Choir”

Just Missed the Cut: Other Albums I Enjoyed This Year

• Butch Walker: I Liked You Better When You Had No Heart
• Best Coast: Crazy For You
• Jenny and Johnny: I’m Having Fun Now
• The Hold Steady: Heaven is Whenever
• Iron Maiden: The Final Frontier
• Beach House: Teen Dream
• The Dillinger Escape Plan: Option Paralysis
• Ratt: Infestation
• Fitz and The Tantrums: Pickin’ Up The Pieces
• Jonsi: Go
• Belle and Sebastian Write About Love
• Bruce Springsteen: The Promise
• Mavis Staples: You Are Not Alone