The first thing I wondered, upon realizing that the Daily Vault
had never reviewed Styx’s
Paradise Theater, was whether our Fearless Founder was
actually from Chicagoland. I know that my home town was on the very
periphery of the Part Of Illinois Around The Big Shoulders, where
Chicago arena-rockers Styx were as omnipresent as Cub games on WGN
and Italian beef sandwiches when I was growing up. That meandering
aside, I turned my attention to actually writing the damn
review.
And I’m gonna start it off with a bit of Serious Rock Music
Critic Heresy. Repeat after me: Styx Doesn’t Suck.
One of the things I hate about most rock music reviewers is that
there are certain genres that it’s tres stylish to bash
unceasingly. (
Rolling Stone being one of the worst offenders; when I said
I write for this site because RS pissed me off at an early age, I
wasn’t joking.) One of those genres is the late-seventies
early-eighties genre of arena rock, where musical alchemy mixed
progressive rock with monster arena concerts. Journey, REO
Speedwagon, Cheap Trick, Kansas — lotta bands paid the rent with
this stuff, and yes, some of it’s drivel. But you know what? Some
of it’s pretty tasty.
Paradise Theater falls in the latter category; Styx was
never this good before, Styx would never be this good again, and
when Styx was good — when the band wasn’t infighting or indulging
in pop excess like the execrable “Babe” — they were tight, y’all.
Paradise Theater was Styx’s high-water mark, and one of the
greatest albums in rock history.
Let’s look at the reasons why. First off, Styx was talented; the
essential lineup of the glory days, Dennis DeYoung, Tommy Shaw,
James Young, Chuck Panozzo, and John Panozzo, were a great group of
musicians. The song selection on Paradise contains some of the best
songs Styx would ever write: the hit singles like “Too Much Time On
My Hands” and “The Best Of Times” had more hooks than a convention
in Las Vegas. Other tracks like “Nothing Ever Goes As Planned” and
“Lonely People” (both with a great horn part provided by the
Hangalator Horn Section) and the driving intro of “AD 1928/Rockin’
The Paradise” catch the listener immediately and pull them in.
While nominally Paradise Theater is a concept album (the decline of
a Chicago landmark theater is used as an allegory for America’s
decline in the late seventies), it never gets in the way of the CD,
and songs like “She Cares” — which has very little to do with the
theme — are still delightful.
The highlight, though, is “Snowblind,” one of the two tracks
written by James Young. Young is really Styx’s unsung genius; in my
opinion (which is what you read this review for, right?) Young was
a better songwriter than either DeYoung or Shaw, and his tracks
snarl and tear at your emotions. “Snowblind” is a bitter tale about
drug addiction, brilliantly performed; when Young sings “Mirror,
mirror, on the wall…” chills run down my spine. This is some
great stuff, people.
Styx isn’t cool anymore. So what? It means there’s less of a
crowd at the Paradise, and you can get some prime seats. Visit
Paradise Theater today.
