Is Aerosmith Our Friend?

By Eric Butterman

On the bus up to Camp Olin Sang Ruby Union in good ol' (very ol') Oconomowoc, Wisconsin a friend of mine was looking just this side of a seizure, his over-spiked haircut head bobbing up and down to whatever madness his Walkman was dishing out. I remember hearing a lot of "Ow"s and "Yeah yeah yeah"s coming from his fuzzily worn phones. When he got bored, I got hooked. It was 1989. The album "Pump" had just come out. I was 11-years-old and had no idea what "F.I.N.E." stood for, but I knew I liked it. I liked it a lot. In fact, I liked it so much that my friend never got his tape back. Evidently a 1978 Pete Rose Topps card was worth more to him. Evidently my friend had problems.

It is 2002. Aerosmith has come out with "O, Yeah! Ultimate Aerosmith Hits." I am in Nobody Beats the Wiz in Upper Manhattan (New York's version of Oconomowoc) and I have this two-disc set in my hands. I have not one Aerosmith CD in my present collection. I eye the back of the album. "Mama Kin". Good. "Dream On". Excellent. "Walk This Way". Both theirs and Run DMC's version. An unexpected delight. But like two sides to every story, I find the contents of the other disc. And all I can see is "Don't Want To Miss A Thing". You remember "Don't Want To Miss a Thing", don't you? The "Armageddon" song? The only number one song in Aerosmith history? The song that probably alienated more longtime Aerosmith fans than any other? I feel torn. No, that's not true. I feel like a poseur.

It was a week into camp before the largest part in my Aerosmith conversion arrived. Ben came into our tent guitar-first, which probably said as much about him as anything. He didn't just listen to it. He actually played it. Now I can't tell you that we became friends right away, nor that we became best friends, nor that our friendship lasted long, but I can tell you that he loved Aerosmith, and like any kid who had some good in him, he wanted to spread the vibe, man. You see, Ben didn't just have "Pump." No, Ben had albums of theirs that went back to, get this, the seventies. From "Toys in the Attic" to "Draw the Line", it was all played and processed. And when we weren't doing that we talked about what girls at camp we wanted to bang. We were very eleven.

I start to notice other songs on that second disc as I check my watch. Where do I have to be again? Nowhere. Good thing I reminded myself. Okay, I see "Livin' On The Edge". Damn, killer riff on that one. Kill-er. It's getting harder to resist the $22.98 the store is asking. I've spent much more on much less. Instantly every drink I ever spent on every worthless date comes to mind. Music, on the other hand, has always been a justifiable purchase. More worthy than most anything. Music relaxes, excites and sometimes even mind-expands. Music is what heroin, marijuana and mescaline would be if they ever had a seamless menage a trois. But this isn't about money. Never is. No, this is the little bullshit part of me that occasionally surfaces. The one that still worries about what we own and what it says about us. Is Aerosmith still cool to buy? Especially this particular collection? An "As Seen on TV" label sits by the, believe it or not, hologram of the Aerosmith logo. This is so corporate you'd think there would be a tip on how to write this purchase off your taxes next to the liner notes.

By the time I entered high school I owned every one of Aerosmith's studio albums, including their numerous and sometimes very unnecessary compilations. But, surprisingly, it wasn't so I could flaunt my "fandom." No, I just really dug them. While tons were rocking to "What it Takes", I was air-guitarring classics like savvy "Sick as a Dog" and lascivious "Lord of the Thighs". I was the real deal. I was doing something for the right reasons. This wasn't about image. It was about ecstasy. Somewhere in the midst of endless Aerosmith concerts in my room, my father died and my mother was less there when she was there. I remember being excited as hell about the "Get a Grip" album coming out. I remember moments of excitement then could be counted on both of Mordecai "Three-Fingered" Brown's hands.

Aerosmith has probably now had more success for more time than anyone else in the Rock 'n' Roll era. Yes, the Rolling Stones have been around longer, but they have not truly had a juggernaut of a hit album since the 70's. Every Aerosmith album since "Permanent Vacation" has been huge. They are more popular than ever. The problem for many of their original fans is who they're popular with and what they're supplying in return for that popularity. Their recent "Jaded", along with the aforementioned "Don't Want To Miss A Thing", are so "balladdy" that they make "Angel" sound like Slayer after getting their Mensa scores back.

But does soft rock mean you're going soft? A fair comparison might be Metallica. Although you will never hear Kirk Hammett sing duets with Michelle Branch, "Nothing Else Matters" certainly crossed a line for many fans from which there has been no return. And losing their lengthy hair might have felt like, say, a heavy metal castration via Ginsu. But here's a question: Should a band never change? But here's maybe a better question: What constitutes changing for the better? I've noticed the "we have to be allowed to grow as a group" excuse and I've noticed the "growth" is almost always the same: shorter hair and softer melodies. But then why don't soft bands ever grow into hard? Why don't I remember Air Supply ever having a "Kick Your Ass and You'll Like It, Mister!" tour? Why do bands always cut their hair as time goes on but never grow their hair? Because it's not "growing" as a band. It's changing. And bands only hurt themselves when they don't make that distinction. Metallica, though becoming a more popular band, did not necessarily become a more mature band. But did Aerosmith?

When I was packing my Pontiac for college I realized I didn't have enough room to take my countless CDs. I had to make some hard choices. One of the easiest, however, was when it came to Aerosmith. Aerosmith would stay at home. They weren't "cool" anymore. "Get a Grip", though a competent enough album, was not what I "joined" the group for. It was obvious where the "Boys from Boston" were headed. But I was headed to Des Moines, Iowa for school. And, let's face it, that's a long way from Oconomowoc.

Steven Tyler sings much better today than he did during Aerosmith's original hey day. Anyone who says he doesn't is being stubborn, not to mention deaf. Not that I don't admire stubbornness, but I also find it to be a real waste of time these days. I'm playing "Deuces of Wild" right now, a mid-90's song that I am singing along with full freaking blast. It is a great song, "Beavis and Butthead" soundtrack or not. I'm just listening to what I like, instead of what I think I should like. "Falling in Love (Is Hard on the Knees)" comes on. I forgot how much I dug this one. And this was just on their second-to-last album. This is supposed to be their "selling out" stuff. Obviously my toe-tapping says I've been sold.

So, as you might have guessed, I did buy that "O, Yeah!" compilation album. And, as you also might have guessed, I'm enjoying it immensely. But does that mean I'm forgiving Aerosmith its profit-motivated sins? Well, first, I have to find them guilty of sinning. If I'm gonna play God, and as album buyers that's our right and sacrilege, then I must take a look at what's before me. The critics will wheel out Exhibit "A" and confidently rest their case (yes, please give it a rest). What a surprise! It's "Don't Want to Miss A Thing." Penned via lyric-by-numbers queen Diane Warren, it was factory built for Billboard chart topping. Case closed. Hmm, but what about "Permanent Vacation"?

"What?" you say. "Are you attacking what might be the greatest Aerosmith album of all time?!"

No, not attacking. Observing. I see many of its writing credits have included a Child. Desmond Child. A man whose track record is purely about chart success and nothing else. Does this ring a bell? "How can we be lovers if we can't be friends?" That's right, he wrote a song for Michael Bolton! And don't get me started on his pieces for Cher!

"No!" you cry. "They were selling out right even back then! It's all a sham! Now we'll have to go back to listening to Bryan Adams!" No, you just have to understand that Aerosmith is four guys. Four guys who aren't drug-induced anymore. Who aren't as pissed anymore. Who are writing just as much about love as lust. Who have, believe it or not, changed. And why does that have to be such a bad thing?

You think I wanted to stay 11-years-old forever?