Binnie’s Dirty Dozen: Skid Row – Slave To The Grind (1991)
I can remember exactly where I was when I first heard this record – the memory is vivid I can almost smell the room I was in. In 1992, I was on a family holiday in Cornwall, a chocolate box part of England full of pastoral scenery and cozy, nook-like villages. Walking into the record shop of the town where we were staying, I heard something so out-of-place in those surroundings, so gargantuan, that I HAD to have it. I don’t think I’ve ever been so excited by a sound since – the voice just owned me. A damp little shop in which a young, long haired (and I now realize, stoned) man was going crazy headbanging to this radical, almighty sound of blazing riffs and raucous vocals – ‘Psycho Love’, the punk/metal pitbull which showcased all that was great about this band. I saw the CD cover on the playlist, found a copy in the store, and promptly walked over to buy it. ‘Woaaaah, little dude’ – blondie said, in his West Country accent – ‘this is going to rip your head off’. He wasn’t wrong.
Put into its proper context, this much more metallic, aggressive sound was something of a sideways leap rather than a march forward for Skid Row, whose debut record had been a major hit several years earlier. If that record – which had multiple points of contact with the LA sound of the ‘80s – had displayed more than a healthy respect for the poppier stylings of Kiss, The Scorpions and Cheap Trick, on album number 2 Skid Row dirtied up their attire (and their hair) and turned up the Judas Priest elements in their music. The band served up a two-guitar attack that was inspired by Halford/Downing: killer riffs, serious shredding, and contrasting styles – the one (Dave Sabo) – about flash and speed, the other – Scotti Hill – about feel and poise. Like Guns ‘N’ Roses – whose heals they were now clearly chasing – the band added more than a little punk into the sound (courtesy of bassist Rachel Bolan’s record collection) to make the music about feel and grit.
As vibrant as this sounded – and still sounds – it was as much a sign of the times as their debut had been in 1988: plaid shirts were a comin’, and Guns’ much more abrasive sound of psycho rock had been de-rigueur for a couple of years. The LA moments are still present. ‘Get the Fuck Out’ was pure Motley Crue groupie destroying, and this is an album which features not 1, not 2, but 3 power ballads. But at least those ballads were not the saccharine tosh of ‘la, la, I love you’ or the cynical ‘let’s write this for radio play’ which had become some commonplace at the turn of the ‘90s – on ‘Quicksand Jesus’ (the pick of the bunch), listeners were treated to a musing on faith that was beautiful and balanced. Lyrically, ‘Slave…’ was in-step with another sound of the moment: thrash. Gone were the songs about girls and booze (for the most part), and in were lyrics about power, social ills and anger. And the production – provided once again by Michael Wagner – whilst rawer than most of the LA bands, was still HUGE.
But then again, Skid Row were fronted by a huge personality in Sebastian Bach. Dave ‘the Snake’ Sabo and Rachel Bolan may have penned tunes that were more than a cut about the average US metal band of the ‘80s, but without Bach’s ADD personality and unholy screams, Skid Row would never have been such a powerful and maniacal force. Bach is in the ascendant here in what must be one of the best metal vocal performances ever committed to record (just listen to ‘Wasting Time’, a song that whispers and roars at once). The album’s juddering 1-2 opener of ‘Monkey Business’ and the title track are songs which demand to be cranked to the point where it hurts. On the former, a bubbling rage is powered by a herculean riff that sounds like Sunset Strip turned into crack whore; on the latter, we get a punk drive pseudo-thrash for the everyman – ‘fuck the world’ may be a moronic sentiment, but sometimes it feels good to be a moron! 20+ years on, it’s the deep cuts which surprise you: the sheer power of ‘The Threat’ (with its shrieking vocal and buzz-saw riff), the crunching heaviness of ‘Livin’ On A Chain Gang’, and the G’N’R debauched punk of ‘Psycho Love’ are all metal songs which – like Skid Row – deserve to be remembered as far more than just a sign of the times. There was some serious weight to this metal, it was anger that you could internalise, enjoy and use to positive ends. It’s been one of my best friends ever since.
I can remember exactly where I was when I first heard this record – the memory is vivid I can almost smell the room I was in. In 1992, I was on a family holiday in Cornwall, a chocolate box part of England full of pastoral scenery and cozy, nook-like villages. Walking into the record shop of the town where we were staying, I heard something so out-of-place in those surroundings, so gargantuan, that I HAD to have it. I don’t think I’ve ever been so excited by a sound since – the voice just owned me. A damp little shop in which a young, long haired (and I now realize, stoned) man was going crazy headbanging to this radical, almighty sound of blazing riffs and raucous vocals – ‘Psycho Love’, the punk/metal pitbull which showcased all that was great about this band. I saw the CD cover on the playlist, found a copy in the store, and promptly walked over to buy it. ‘Woaaaah, little dude’ – blondie said, in his West Country accent – ‘this is going to rip your head off’. He wasn’t wrong.
Put into its proper context, this much more metallic, aggressive sound was something of a sideways leap rather than a march forward for Skid Row, whose debut record had been a major hit several years earlier. If that record – which had multiple points of contact with the LA sound of the ‘80s – had displayed more than a healthy respect for the poppier stylings of Kiss, The Scorpions and Cheap Trick, on album number 2 Skid Row dirtied up their attire (and their hair) and turned up the Judas Priest elements in their music. The band served up a two-guitar attack that was inspired by Halford/Downing: killer riffs, serious shredding, and contrasting styles – the one (Dave Sabo) – about flash and speed, the other – Scotti Hill – about feel and poise. Like Guns ‘N’ Roses – whose heals they were now clearly chasing – the band added more than a little punk into the sound (courtesy of bassist Rachel Bolan’s record collection) to make the music about feel and grit.
As vibrant as this sounded – and still sounds – it was as much a sign of the times as their debut had been in 1988: plaid shirts were a comin’, and Guns’ much more abrasive sound of psycho rock had been de-rigueur for a couple of years. The LA moments are still present. ‘Get the Fuck Out’ was pure Motley Crue groupie destroying, and this is an album which features not 1, not 2, but 3 power ballads. But at least those ballads were not the saccharine tosh of ‘la, la, I love you’ or the cynical ‘let’s write this for radio play’ which had become some commonplace at the turn of the ‘90s – on ‘Quicksand Jesus’ (the pick of the bunch), listeners were treated to a musing on faith that was beautiful and balanced. Lyrically, ‘Slave…’ was in-step with another sound of the moment: thrash. Gone were the songs about girls and booze (for the most part), and in were lyrics about power, social ills and anger. And the production – provided once again by Michael Wagner – whilst rawer than most of the LA bands, was still HUGE.
But then again, Skid Row were fronted by a huge personality in Sebastian Bach. Dave ‘the Snake’ Sabo and Rachel Bolan may have penned tunes that were more than a cut about the average US metal band of the ‘80s, but without Bach’s ADD personality and unholy screams, Skid Row would never have been such a powerful and maniacal force. Bach is in the ascendant here in what must be one of the best metal vocal performances ever committed to record (just listen to ‘Wasting Time’, a song that whispers and roars at once). The album’s juddering 1-2 opener of ‘Monkey Business’ and the title track are songs which demand to be cranked to the point where it hurts. On the former, a bubbling rage is powered by a herculean riff that sounds like Sunset Strip turned into crack whore; on the latter, we get a punk drive pseudo-thrash for the everyman – ‘fuck the world’ may be a moronic sentiment, but sometimes it feels good to be a moron! 20+ years on, it’s the deep cuts which surprise you: the sheer power of ‘The Threat’ (with its shrieking vocal and buzz-saw riff), the crunching heaviness of ‘Livin’ On A Chain Gang’, and the G’N’R debauched punk of ‘Psycho Love’ are all metal songs which – like Skid Row – deserve to be remembered as far more than just a sign of the times. There was some serious weight to this metal, it was anger that you could internalise, enjoy and use to positive ends. It’s been one of my best friends ever since.
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