(This feature article originally appeared on the Rhapsody Blog.)
Lead singers tend to be prima donnas who snag all the front-row babes and front-page accolades. Unfortunately, replacing these ego freaks is almost always an exercise in failure. Though the dude might’ve skipped a rehearsal or three, he’s the vessel through which all those killer songs are delivered to the masses. The medium is the message and to lose the medium means nose-diving right back into club circuit hell, where green rooms are nothing more than a gutted bathroom plastered in hand-scrawled personals: For a good time call…
Musicians know all this, and yet there are always going to be successful bands who believe they can succeed with a newbie frontman. Can you blame them? If you were Eddie Van Halen, wouldn’t you feel a powerful urge to stick it to that blowhard D.L.R.? I know I would. Of course, Van Halen are one of the rare exceptions to the rule. Say what you will about Van Hagar and lame-o hits like “Right Now,” but they sold a ton of records. Roth’s popularity, meanwhile, declined with each passing year he wasn’t swinging from the rafters 40 feet above Michael Anthony and his Jack Daniels bass.
But what of the other titans of rock who dared switch frontmen? How did they fare? Let’s find out…
Alice in Chains
I expected to hate AiC’s new album, Black Gives Way to Blue. While defenders of new singer William DuVall point out that guitarist Jerry Cantrell is the group’s primary songwriter, Layne Staley was one of the most intriguing frontmen of the last two decades. Dirt is a trip-through-hell rock odyssey: scary, brutal and engrossing. But hey, Black Gives Way to Blue is a fat slice of quality modern rock in its own right. Cantrell can still write, while DuVall does an honorable job, negotiating the whole “how much should I rip off Layne” issue. Besides, a Staley-less Alice in Chains still rocks harder than just about any post-grunge act you can name.
Grade: B
Mo�tley Cr�ue
The Cru�e really screwed the pooch back in 1994. In addition to 86-ing its trademark sound, the band parted ways with that pudgy, porno-producing pipsqueak Vince Neil, whose screechy yelp helped define the hair metal aesthetic. On Mo�tley Cru�e, hapless scrub John Corabi howls like the grunge wanna-be that he is, while the group fails to find a place in the alt-rock revolution. But the Cru�e have never been about angst; they’re about stripper poles. And fortunately for longtime fans, the band came to its senses and reunited with Neil, as well as their love for trashy pop metal.
Grade: C (would be a D had they closed out their career with Corabi)
Black Sabbath
There are more than a few pro-Ozzy Black Sabbath fans who coldly dismiss the Dio years. What these folks overlook is the abject mediocrity of the band’s last couple of albums with Osborne. Heaven and Hell and Mob Rules, in stark contrast, sound absolutely riveting. Not only do Sabbath sound revitalized with Ronnie James, they’re actually helping heavy metal make its next evolutionary leap into the 1980s. On top of all this, Dio’s pipes and artistry have aged far better than those of Ozzy, whose bumbling jive-talk I’ve always found more sad than endearing. I guess the moral of the story is this: an addiction to Dungeons & Dragons is far healthier than an addiction to cocaine.
Grade: A
Lynyrd Skynyrd
I don’t want to sound overly morbid, but let’s say your brother dies in plane crash. You’re crushed. Yet you decide to dress and talk exactly like him for the next two decades. Not only that, you airbrush his image (which is now your image) on the back of your jean jacket. Only in rock ‘n’ roll would such behavior be rewarded with sold-out concerts at county fairs and a long line of longhairs waiting to purchase $30 belt buckles emblazoned with the flag of the Confederacy.
Grade: P (for psychotic)
Judas Priest
The story is now legendary: after the departure of leather-clad metal icon Rob Halford (who put together tenacious thrashers Fight), Judas Priest enlisted Tim “Ripper” Owens, a dude who was fronting some Priest tribute band in northeast Ohio. Thank Satan Halford returned to the fold in 2003; the band needs him far more than he needs them. Fight’s War of Words slays just about anything the Priest released during the Owens era.
Grade: D
Journey
Steve Perry, who more or less invented the template for the soaring MOR crooner, wasn’t Journey’s first frontman (that was some dude by the name of Robert Fleischman) but he is unquestionably the group’s most popular — and powerful. Chew on this: his first replacement, Steve Augeri, bowed out due to vocal attrition. The guy’s instrument simply couldn’t handle the poperatic gymnasitics of “Lights” night after night. In order to find a singer who could, Neal Schon and company had to venture all the way to the Philippines, where they found Perry clone Arnel Pineda. The latest incarnation of Journey, with Pineda out front, has enjoyed some modest success, yet they will forever live in Steve Perry’s shadow.
Grade: C
AC/DC
AC/DC have produced two, maybe three, flat-out killer albums with Brian Johnson on vocals. One of them, the immortal Back in Black, was suppose to feature Bon Scott. That said, I’m going out on a limb and saying AC/DC would’ve fared no better had Scott lived. The group’s primal, minimalist riff-rock is beyond amazing, but it’s also a one-trick pony. AC/DC would’ve started making mediocre albums regardless of who was out front screaming. So give Johnson some credit. The guy has made the most with what’s been handed to him. He’s kind of like a reliable workhorse who refuses to be put out to pasture.
Grade: B
Queen
I have a theory about Queen teaming up with meaty Bad Company stud Paul Rodgers. Somewhere along the way Brian May got sick and tired of all the “gay talk” that inevitably surfaces whenever the group is mentioned on a VH-1-produced special on rock history. It made them feel as though they were nothing more than the pit band for Liza Minnelli or bathhouse-era Bette Midler. So in order to prove that Queen was a real-deal hard rock group, they hired the most virile singer in the history of British blues-rock (yet they still call themselves Queen — weird). This, of course, destroyed what made the group so unique: the original Queen rocked as hard as Zeppelin, yet also busted some wonderfully campy art pop. It’s one of the most singular aesthetics in all of rock ‘n’ roll. Unfortunately, with Rodgers now at the helm for the occasional world tour, Queen are just another boogie-rock dinosaur on the slow road to extinction.
Grade: H (for homophobic)
Iron Maiden
Who on earth remembers Blaze Bayley? I sure as hell don’t! Mr. Bayley replaced Bruce Dickinson in 1994 and proceeded to stink up the joint. Iron Maiden, much like Priest, struggled until Bruce and his bionic lungs returned. I saw them in 1999, and they sounded just fantastic. (Halford opened, as a matter of fact.) What is it with these operative metal dudes? Why are they so irreplaceable?
Grade: C (should be a D, but the fact that Maiden succeeded in replacing their real-true original singer, one Paul Di’Anno, with Dickinson boosts them up a whole letter grade)
INXS
There is only one band more pathetic than the Doors when it comes to not realizing their lead singer meant everything, and that’s INXS. Michael Hutchence was so Mojo Risin’: a moody and charismatic longhair in shades whose distasteful death — was it suicide or autoerotic asphyxiation? — embodied rock’s dark side. INXS have tried to push on, but it’s been a slog. First came false starts with Jon Stevens and, uh, Terence Trent d’Arby, as well as the band asking Faith No More’s Mike Patton, of all people, to join (he, of course, said no — as well as some other choice comments). Then there was the reality-show debacle and winning contestant J.D. Fortune. After all that, the group started experimenting with celebrity frontman by committee. This has produced some strange results, including one-off collaborations with Rob Thomas and the Killers’ Brandon Flowers. Of course, this sounds a lot like Ray Manzarek and Robby Krieger shacking up with one modern rocker after another: Ian Astbury, Fuel’s Brett Scallions, Scott “It’s Good to be the King” Stapp and so on.
Grade: C (should be an F, but let’s be honest: INXS’ decline started long before the death of Hutchence)
Van Hagar
We already stirred this cocktail (see our intro). However, I need to mention just a few more tidbits before folks start to grill me for defending Van Hagar. Call me crazy, but for me the Van Halen legacy took a serious hit when I discovered that the Chickenfoot album rocks harder than any of the live stuff I’ve heard from Van Halen’s recent reunion with Roth — who, unlike the ageless Sammy, sounds tired and old. Couple this with the fact that Hagar’s first major band, the Ted Templeman-produced Montrose, basically invented the Van Halen sound all the way back in 1973, and you have to admit he isn’t a bad dude. Sure, I’m not spinning 5150 or OU812 anytime soon, but I’d rather party at the Cabo Wabo Cantina with him and nice guy Michael Anthony than either D.L.R. or those dysfunctional Van Halen brothers.
Grade: B (should be an A, but there’s Van Cherone to contend with)
The Doors
Jim Morrison is a golden god, and there’s no replacing golden gods — even if we’re talking Iggy Pop or Ian Astbury. ‘Nuff said.
Grade: Anything below a F?
New albums from Alice in Chains and Pearl Jam have me daydreaming about the days when grunge stormed America and wrapped just about every high school between Seattle and Syracuse in red-and-black checked flannel. Those were heady days for me and my alternative pals Jay, Kerry, Jared and Ted. In the summer before senior year, we’d sit around Ted’s house (his parents were never home) and impatiently wait for MTV to play the “Alive” video or maybe even Temple of the Dog’s “Hunger Strike.” Feeling intensely nostalgic, I’ve been spinning the popular classics of grunge over the last week or so. Some of these sound really great, others kind of dated and a few haven’t changed at all. I figure I’d share my discoveries… in the form of a stock report.
