Def Leppard’s third and fourth albums – 1983’s ‘Pyromania’ and 1987’s ‘Hysteria’ – are two of the biggest selling rock albums of the 1980s.  The latter is one of the biggest selling rock albums of all time.  With these two albums, (over)produced by the legendary Mutt Lange, Def Leppard perfected their signature brand of soft metal with big hooks and even bigger harmonies.  Although a lot of this signature sound is down to Lange’s mastery of the studio, the band had a strong focus on melody and vocal harmony right from the beginning.

With regards to the band’s 1980 debut album ‘On Through The Night’, this is never more obvious than on ‘Hello America’, a track drenched in harmony vocals and tinkling synthesizers.  Those harmonies typify the vocal stylings which Def Leppard would soon make their calling card; and even at such an early stage, this blatant pandering to a music industry across the Atlantic could be seen as Def Leppard wanting to break out of the New Wave of British Heavy Metal as soon as possible.  Balancing a fairly throwaway lyric with a tough-edged arrangement, this presents one of the best examples of the early Leppard’s gift for melody and as such, made it the perfect choice for a single.  Between the commercial hooks and riffs, the guitar work exchanged between Steve Clark leads and Pete Willis’s solid rhythm brings an edge with a slightly more metallic leaning, but despite their best efforts, these guitar riffs still don’t quite match the work of their then heroes UFO and Thin Lizzy.

Although not quite as polished, ‘It Don’t Matter’ is also very melodic, with an opening riff which has plenty of groove.  That riff appears sporadically throughout, but during the verses, it gives way to very basic chord pattern, which is coupled by an equally simple bassline and a cowbell which, in places, could rival Blue Oyster Cult’s ‘Don’t Fear The Reaper’ for its lack of subtlety. It’s a track which – as part of a bigger picture here – certainly hits the spot; although it’s relatively basic approach probably could have been improved upon, had the more confident Def Leppard re-approached it for their second album sessions with Mutt the following year.  ‘Satellite’ is a statement of simple, no nonsense hard rock which showcases some great staccato guitar parts and a decent chorus.  What lifts above being ordinary is a rather grandiose mid-section, featuring a wah-wah drenched solo, some unexpected clean rhythm guitar and something nearing a bass solo.  It’s an interesting approach and hugely professional given Leppard’s relative youth at this time.

Even though there are lots of pointers towards some very promising talent, there’s no denying that ‘On Through The Night’ contains a couple of potential clunkers.  The worst offender is, in fact, the album’s opening statement, ‘Rock Brigade’.  Any song which contains the word rock in its title has the ability to make people cringe, but delivered from a bunch of teenagers whom fashion a chorus out of ‘Watch out it’s the rock brigade / oh no, it’s the rock brigade’, well, let’s just say it’s pretty questionable at best.  Luckily, Rick Allen’s rock solid drum part and the front line of Steve Clark and Pete Willis on guitars give those questionable lyrics a boost; the arrangement has enough cockiness that you just might manage to forgive the youthful song writing.  But only just.  Likewise, with ‘Answer To The Master’, the listener is expected to take the barrage of teenage arrogance with a bag of salt.  Again, any dodgy song writing is balanced out by a decent arrangement and tight playing: in this case, there’s a great twin-lead guitar part, a couple of energetic solos and Rick Savage’s punchy bassline, which definitely ranks as a high point here.  Rick Allen’s drum fills aren’t too shabby either.

‘Colonel’ Tom Allom’s production may not have the perfectionist qualities that Mutt would later bring to subsequent Leppard albums, but his approach is more than fine for the songs here.  As expected though, as a man best known for producing all of Judas Priest’s 80s albums, his techniques bring out the best elements on the harder numbers.  A rousing rock tune, ‘Rocks Off’ may not be the lyrical equivalent of Lennon/McCartney, but it captures the hard rock Def Leppard rather well, with a powerful riff which is reminiscent of ‘Stained Class’ era Judas Priest, while ‘It Could Be You’ and ‘Wasted’ (the latter also released as a single in a different recording) offer almost as much oomph.  Providing you can make it past ‘Wasted’s lyrics of teenage debauchery, it’s fine enough, albeit in a disposable sort of way.  Similarly, ‘It Could Be You’ breaks no new territory for the NWOBHM, but it has a naive charm.

‘Sorrow is a Woman’ is a bit of a mixed bag in terms of arrangement.  The verses are loaded with melody – the rhythm guitar work is beautifully clean, the lead guitar work occasionally hints at a jazzy infliction here and there and (as with ‘Answer To The Master’) the bass work provides the real highlight.  Throughout this number, Savage’s bass is presented very highly in the overall mix, and while he doesn’t play anything too complex, his work is more than just an anchoring role.  In fact, this track’s weak links come via it’s occasional hard rock moments; the chorus riffs sound like they’re building towards something big, but stop short.  In many ways, the rockier moments just interfere with the more intricate arrangements elsewhere.  With an atmospheric spoken word intro (courtesy of The Strawbs’ Dave Cousins), ‘When The Walls Came Tumblin’ Down’ has hints of pomp at its beginnings with Elliot vocalising over a soft guitar line.  While this hints at something bigger than straight-up hard rock, it doesn’t last.  The electric guitar riffs chug along in a manner that’s not too subtle – and as such place Def Leppard alongside many of their NWOBHM contemporaries.  What sets the band apart here, though, is their use of harmony vocals and a huge pomposity as the track progresses; those lead vocals are tempered by some well-placed harmonies and then overlaid by Clark’s vibrato lead work.  It’s one of ‘On Through The Night’s more adventurous numbers, but even so, it doesn’t live up to the epic ‘Overture’, which closes the album.

A track which appeared in a slightly different form on the Def Leppard demo tape and on their self-financed 7” EP, ‘Overture’ gets a full polish up and re-recording here.  As the opening notes drift in, there’s something here that’s a bit different – more mature, certainly far more adventurous.  The clean toned guitar work has a beautiful quality and Savage’s bass and Elliott’s vocal help take it to a higher level.  Keen listeners will recognise a similarity in the guitar part to moments featured during the UFO number ‘Cherry’ (from their 1978 album ‘Obsession’), but that’s as far as any similarity goes.  Once the drums crash in, Willis and Clark tear into a Thin Lizzy inspired twin lead, before the band powers into the rest of an already epic number.  Elliott can be heard in a strong, natural vocal role, backed by a few great harmonies in places, while Savage’s bass line gallops across everything with a far amount of abandon.  Also finding places for a couple of the album’s best guitar solos and a second twin lead which sounds like a cheeky nod to Iron Maiden (then, very much peers to the fledgling Leps), the seven and a half minutes of ‘Overture’ represent ‘On Through The Night’s finest achievement.  The band really still ought to hold this up as something of which they can be proud:  the first two minutes, in particular, may even be the best thing Def Leppard committed to record during their first three years.

Some of the song writing may be clichéd and the general rock posturing a little green in the gills, but the seeds of the Def Leppard sound can be heard scattered across various moments of ‘On Through The Night’.

In terms of live performance, the songs featured here were all but left on the shelf after the ‘Pyromania’ tour of 1983/4, with only ‘Wasted’ and – rather surprisingly – ‘Rock Brigade’ making sporadic appearances once again after 1999.  It mightn’t always have the polish of their arguably more popular works, but why Def Leppard have all but disowned ‘On Through The Night’ is a mystery.  As far as debut albums go, it’s got its share of great moments.

While it could certainly be argued that their second album (1981’s ‘High & Dry’, the first of three albums with Mutt Lange in the producer’s chair) is far more structured in terms of performance and the band really make the best of their new-found tougher, leaner sound, the carefree, youthful experimentation the band enjoyed on their debut shouldn’t be overlooked as often as it has been. And while – as a whole – ‘On Through The Night’ may not be as enduring across the ages as Iron Maiden’s debut or Judas Priest’s ‘British Steel’ (also both released in the same year), it’s strongest moments are among the best to emerge from the New Wave of British Heavy Metal.

June 2011

When the fourth Manic Street Preachers album, ‘Everything Must Go’ came out in 1996, it marked a turning point for the band. The first album recorded without lyricist Richey James Edwards (although a chunk of the albums lyrics came from notebooks he left prior to his 1995 disappearance), the album brought the Manics a far bigger audience, courtesy of the huge hit single ‘A Design For Life’. When its follow-up, ‘This Is My Truth Tell Me Yours’ was released in 1998, I hated it. Although they were a great rock band, this style “Manic Street Preachers with a safety net” weren’t the same. They just weren’t. From then, I kept my distance from the band, proclaiming (to the tune of their then recent hit, ‘If You Tolerate This Then Your Children Will Be Next’) “If he tolerates this, then old Richey must be dead”.

Almost a decade later, while in my local branch of Fopp, I heard the Manics’ 2007 album ‘Send Away The Tigers’. While not as edgy as the Manics at their ferocious best, something seemed to be an improvement. I still couldn’t tell you what, though. Maybe it showed the “poppy” Manics in a better light then the previous post-Richey records, or just maybe I’d finally accepted there wouldn’t be another ‘Holy Bible’ ever again. I bought the album and really enjoyed it, and continue to do so (I also went back and bought the couple of albums I’d avoided, to find they really weren’t all that bad; they were just a bit too safe). Then, in 2009, using more of Richey’s notebook scribblings, the Manics released ‘Journal For Plague Lovers’ – an angry collection of songs produced by Steve Albini – which was arguably their best album for some years. It was exciting to hear James Dean Bradfield yelping out previously unheard lyrics written by Richey. It was a sharp kick; proof that the band could still cut it – and a reminder why I loved the Manics in the early 90s, and why I still tell people I’m a fan, despite my criticism of huge chunks of their back-cat.

With two decent albums under their belts following nearly a decade of disappointment, my expectations were fairly high for ‘Postcards For a Young Man’. Those expectations for more anger a la ‘Plague Lovers’ were kicked to the kerb fairly swiftly, after hearing the choir of vocals slapped across the opening track. In a reaction to the harshness and old-school Manics approach its immediate predecessor, ‘Postcards’ is it’s polar opposite, much in the same way ‘The Holy Bible’ had been followed with the hugely commercial ‘Everything Must Go’. Released as a single, that opening track, ‘(It’s Not War) It’s Just the End of Love’ features a decent chorus and vocal arrangement from James Dean Bradfield. The ringing guitar on the verses coupled with Sean Moore’s good time-keeping during the verses ranks it among the better, post-96, softer-edged Manics material. If anything, it would have sounded better without the strings…but it’s a track which gets better with every play.

The title track appears to be an attempt at re-creating something anthemic; something in the vein of ‘A Design For Life’. It’s partly successful and the piano part is pleasing, but as the track draws to a close, there’s just a little too much going on and I’m reminded of the choir of vocals at the end of Queen’s ‘Somebody To Love’. A brave attempt – and it’s easy to see what the band were going for here, but sadly, for all of its potential, it sounds like a composite of a couple of older Manics songs (with a heavy influence from ‘A Design For Life’) and comes off worse for that. The only track with lyrics written by Bradfield, ‘I Think I’ve Found It’ is a quirky pop/rock workout, driven by mandolin. Matching a decent guitar riff under-pinned by Hammond organ, this is sunny and upbeat – and interestingly, one of the only tracks which doesn’t feel like its commercial edge was forced. Maybe Nicky Wire ought to leave more of the song writing duties to his creative counterpart…

‘A Billion Balconies Facing The Sun’ is rockier than at least half of the album – not edgy especially, but in keeping with the slightly punchier end of the commercial styled Manics. James Dean Bradfield’s guitar solos are spiky (and not always completely in tune), Sean Moore’s drumming is solid and – guesting on bass – ex-Guns N’ Roses man Duff McKagan does a great job of holding everything together. It’s not a particularly distinctive bass line and I’m sure Nicky Wire could have played it just as easily. I’m pretty sure that around the time of their second album ‘Gold Against The Soul’ the Manics had expressed a liking of G N’ R, so, with that in mind, the fact that Duff stepped in to help is cool. With an intro which sounds like a badly played Rolling Stones riff, ‘The Future Has Been Here 4 Ever’ is one of those tracks your skip button was invented for. Nicky Wire steps up for a lead vocal – an extremely flat one at that – while drummer Sean Moore contributes some equally tuneless trumpet work. It would have been bad enough, but once the choir chimes in, their harmony work only serves to make Wire sound even worse.

Drenched in strings and a guitar which sounds multi-tracked, ‘Hazelton Avenue’ is by far the best of the lighter material here. Bradfield’s performance is one of the album’s best, during a song which sounds instantly familiar. The mid-section features strings playing an eastern motif, though it’s no more than a fleeting moment, as if it were an afterthought. ‘Some Kind of Nothingness’ would have fallen into the category of nothingness, but is saved somewhat by the presence of Echo & The Bunnymen frontman Ian McCulloch, who shares lead vocal. McCulloch’s Scouse-tinged lower register is a good contrast to Bradfield’s higher belting voice, and the end result is decent, even if not as striking as Bradfield’s duet with Nina Persson on the Manics’ 2007 hit, ‘Your Love Alone Is Not Enough’. Sadly, although the appearance of McCulloch provides plenty of interest, the choir on the chorus is just too heavy handed and kills the song. I appreciate the Manics are attempting to grab your attention with the lavish production, strings and choirs, but sometimes less is more, y’know?

‘Auto-Intoxication’ features another guest performer – this time fellow Welshman and legend John Cale – whom, you have to wonder why, isn’t in the producer’s chair – and whose contribution here is limited to a few keyboards and some electronic noise. Like Duff McKagan’s guest spot, it’s an unassuming role which blends in well. Since John Cale was happy enough to lend his skills, it’s such a shame the band didn’t give him more to do. With or without Cale, the track is a decent rock number, with slightly more edge than a lot of ‘Postcards From a Young Man’. There are echoes of old style Manics here and there, especially as Bradfield hits the shoutier end of his performance, but it’s still more in keeping with the noisier moments of ‘Send Away The Tigers’ than anything from ‘Journal For Plague Lovers’.

‘Postcards From a Young Man’ is a mostly slick, well put together album which, from so many other “alternative” bands may have been a minor masterpiece. For the Manics, it’s a deliberate attempt at creating an album with huge appeal beyond their fan base, with both Nicky Wire and James Dean Bradfield claiming it “one last shot at mass communication”. Listening to the overly-shined safe rock music on the album, with the help of producer Dave Eringa they’ve certainly created something very commercial, but it’s a far cry from the Manics most edgy works.

If you were a late convert and were attracted to the band via songs like ‘You Stole The Sun From My Heart’ then this album is for you. If you’re an old-school fan who wants to be challenged by provacative slogan-style lyrics, there’s not too much for you here. Okay, so some of the songs have a bit of social commentary at their roots (for example, ‘Golden Platitudes’ regards Labour’s empty promises and their subsequent downfall and ‘All We Make Is Entertainment’ concerns itself with the selling off of Cadbury’s and Britain’s decline), but as expected, none of Nicky Wire’s lyrics have the same venomous bite as anything Richey Edwards left behind (and anything with any real edge is ultimately washed out by the aforementioned choirs and strings anyway).

‘Postcards From a Young Man’ is an album destined get played once in a while and enjoyed for the well-crafted rock record it ultimately is…but once it’s over, some of you will still find yourselves reaching for ‘Generation Terrorists’, ‘The Holy Bible’ and ‘Journal For Plague Lovers’. Still, it’s the push and pull between chorus driven accessible material and angry sloganeering that have kept this band so vibrant over so long a period. Not bad for a bunch of guys who originally set out to release one album and disappear into the ether…

September 2010