How I stopped worrying and learned to love Aerosmith

Three times an Aerosmith record saved my life. Well, less exaggeratingly, a cassette tape or CD by “The Bad Boys from Boston” rescued me from whatever depths of the seasons of wither or nightly forays into rut-mania I was experiencing during three particular summers. There have been others of course (heaven and hell and Black Sabbath), but the mullet-haired boy inside this carcass of a angry bird-haired man remembers how the Toxic Twin-ship of lead singer Steven Tyler and lead guitarist Joe Perry — along with cigarettes, orange soda, pale pilsen and, later on, childhood friends and crushes — made the days quite bearable.

First was when I got exiled just before heyday of glam rock to a Town That Shall Not Be Named. I got into trouble in high school in Manila, so I was sent off to a relative’s house in semi-suburban hell. The days were infinite. I don’t even think the townsfolk grew old or died; they just malfunctioned due to tedium. The lone basketball court was ruled upon by Orcs in shorts, and the girls were famously prudish. I spent my days in the only mall in town — four stores and seventeen stalls ago. There was one store of note comprised of a video shop (where you could order obscure Filipino classic movies such as The Driver and Juan Tam*d) and a vinyl store (where you could select classic rock n’ roll albums and have them transferred to cassette tapes).

That corner of that mediocre mall was boss: likeminded exiles congregated there and rummaged through platters such as “Highway to Hell,” “KISS Alive” and Van Halen’s debut album. The Scorpions and The Eagles were bestsellers, much adored by teenagers as well as former Saudi Arabia journeymen, but Aerosmith’s “Rocks” (1976) caught my attention. It became one of three albums I listened to exclusively that entire month. Back in the Saddle evoked all the good, the bad and the ugly Spaghetti Westerns, which my friends and I watched in the old pungent cinemas in that dead town. Last Child and Rats in the Cellar gave me the impulse to rooster around the house like Steven Tyler. And I always imagined Home Tonight as my hymn to the girl of my dreams I had yet to meet. 

And maybe drink a ‘cheers’ to yesterday…

When Aerosmith came out in the early ’70s, the band had a sound that was steeped in the blues Bible, a tradition nurtured by the likes of Yardbirds, Led Zeppelin and the Rolling Stones. Tyler originally wanted to name the band… the Hookers. Then drummer Joey Kramer broached the name Arrowsmith. The singer writes in his autobiography Does the Noise in My Head Bother You, which I would get to read decades later, how he came up with the spelling that stuck. Tyler says, “‘Aero: A-E-R-O, right?’ The name evoked space — aerodynamics, supersonic thrust, Mach II, the sound barrier.” Clive Davis signed the band to Columbia Records in 1972 and the rest is Aero-history.

One of the first hit power ballads that the band recorded was Dream On. The band couldn’t afford to hire an orchestra. So, Tyler dug out a Mellotron (the same sampling device used by The Beatles on Strawberry Fields Forever). When the single first came out in 1973, it was a bust. But the track was a slow-burner, becoming a concert staple, getting rereleased in 1975, going all the way to No. 6 on the charts, and casting its huge influential on future power balladeers. The song, says Steven, has an Edgar Allan Poe kind of feel to it. Blame it on the F minor and C-sharp combo.

Second was in Malabon with my “Malaboner” friends Darrel, Randy and occasionally Mark. We were glam rock fans. We learned the acoustic guitar (mine was bought by my mother for the princely sum of P300 — yes, just imagine how P300 sounds like… clang!) and we strummed along to Patience by GNR, Heartbreak Station by Cinderella, I Remember You by Skid Row or Every Rose Has Its Thorn by that guy before he had a crappy reality show called Rock of Love. But in all the interviews by those bands on Circus or Hit Parader magazines, which we bought on the cheap in Quiapo, the glam rockers would always mention their main influence — neither Led Zeppelin nor Black Sabbath; not the sun, the moon and the Rolling Stones. It was always scarf-waving, blues-pilfering, train kept a-rollin’, with an accumulation of miles upon miles of hair and white coke lines… the one and only, Aerosmith. Particularly the Lord of the Thighs, Steven Tyler.

The guys from Aerosmith were enjoying a renaissance of sorts during that golden age in the Sunset Strip of L.A. “Get Your Wings, “Toys in the Attic,” “Rocks” and the often-overlooked “Draw the Line” got themselves crowned as one of the kings of hard rock in the ’70s. But the drugs, the madness and the Keith Moon of it all paved the way for the band’s descent into purgatorial obscurity. Joe Perry left, so did guitarist Brad Whitford. Bassist Tom Hamilton and drummer Joey Kramer stuck it out with Tyler who recruited a Joe Perry clone, Jimmy Crespo. A couple of lackluster albums ensued. It would take a collaboration with Run-DMC on the Rick Rubin-produced cover of Walk This Way in 1986 that would bring the Lazarus juggernaut back from the grave. Remember that immortal guitar riff, the wicked rhyming scheme, and those Adidas Superstar sneakers? That’s a slice of pop culture for you: rock and hip-hop, formerly strange bedfellows, became backstroke lovers overnight because of that landmark tune. 

One of my friends bought “Permanent Vacation” (1987) on high-grade cassette tape and we wore that mother out. We could sing that entire album from Heart’s Done Time to The Beatles cover, I’m Down. We waited for the music videos — Rag Doll and Dude (Looks Like a Lady) on EmpTV. The songs were raunchy and naughty, and have that backbeat of dogs in heat. Despite the fact that it’s the first album the band recorded while sober. But Angel was our anthem that summer. Another tune that would soundtrack relationships yet to be.

Enough’s enough, I’ve suffered and I’ve seen the light…

Nowadays, in this hellfire of a summer where videoke is king, Aerosmith still rules the roost. “Pump” (1989), “Get a Grip” (1993) and the Armageddon soundtrack (1998) are the songbooks of choice. Mt. Everest, of course, is the Dianne Warren-penned track I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing, which stayed on the No. 1 spot on Billboard’s Hot 100 for four weeks. Believe me, how we murdered that song. And the killing continues. ’Cause even when I dream of yaaaaau!

No matter how sleazy the sing-along joint is, or how skimpy the dresses of the waitresses to come, or how expensive the goodtime packages are (usually P400 per head, drink-all-you-can SMB Light plus a saucerful of Oishi), my officemates and I focus on the more pressing issues at hand. What to belt out? Whether it should be What it Takes or I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing. What are the prevailing wind conditions? What about the wind-chill factor? Is it safe to take the high road to falsetto land on Dream On. Not the one by Nazareth, mind you. A co-worker erroneously programmed that particular track, and almost died onstage trying to reach the stratospheric notes — But you’ll never know how much I needed you… — with lungsful of Sharon Cuneta air and without a bellyful of crispy pata. Nonesuch problems with Aerosmith tunes. Steven Tyler himself could kick the sassafras out of his own tunes, be pitchy, lose cues, fall off-stage and still be one of the coolest singers on Planet Earth… as long as that frilly scarf flies. Maybe that’s what spurred the producers of American Idol into getting Steven Tyler as one of the jurors of the show. An epic fail, I thought right away upon hearing the news. Can’t teach individuality or free-spiritedness. Can’t ape that rag doll of a singing career.

“Along with everything else that’s happened, life is good,” says Tyler in the most sober passage of his autobiography. “And if I learned that if I shoot an arrow of truth, I must first dip its point in honey. I’ve learned the ancient lesson of apology — OWN IT. It puts out every fire you may have walked through in life. People, too, often miss the silver lining because they were expecting gold. I’ve seen the sun go down only to be swallowed by the ocean! Only to rise again in the morning.” Oh what wisdom! All this coming from a guy who claims in his unreliable-narrator of a book how he snorted $20 million up his nose.

I guess it’s the same old song and dance for everyone, for those of us who spent sick-as-a-dog summers like rats in the cellar, for those of us with desperate hearts, even for a rock god like Steven Tyler.

“Remember,” the rubber-mouthed singing preacher concludes in Amazing, “The light at the end of the tunnel may be you.”

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Aerosmith fans in Manila can finally watch lead singer Steven Tyler, guitarists Joe Perry and Brad Whitford, bassist Tom Hamilton and drummer Joey Kramer perform live on May 8, 8 p.m., at Mall of Asia Arena. Tickets are now available. Call 470-2222, go to any SM Ticket outlets or reserve online https://smtickets.com/marketing/view/1217. For VIP assistance or inquiries, e-mail royalty@pulpliveworld.com or call 727 4957.

The Aerosmith concert is supported by PLDT, StarWorld, Fox, ABS-CBN, MYX, 2Go Express, BDO, Pioneer Insurance, MC Graphics Carranz, Pulp Magazine, The Philippine Star, BusinessWorld, BusinessMirror, Monster Radio RX 93.1 Manila, Monster Radio BT 105.9 Cebu, Monster Radio BT 99.5 Davao, RB 106 Radio Boracay Philippines, 99.9 Country, The Country Authority, and Diamond Hotel is the official residence of Aerosmith.