This week In ‘Hard & Metal Throwback’ 05/52
Kiss, Iron Maiden, Van Halen, Alice Cooper, Foo Fighters, Guns N’ Roses, Billy Idol, Alice In Chains, Metallica, Uriah Heep, AC/DC, Deep Purple
They are the ‘Hard . Metal Throwback’ artists selected among the 355 Posts we publish this week.
Here, they are reunited in one glorious playlist. Enjoy!
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Tracklist
![]() 1 . Kiss . War Machine“War Machine” by Kiss is a snarling anthem born out of a curious collaboration between Gene Simmons and the future hitmaker Bryan Adams. Emerging from the murky depths of the 1982 “Creatures of the Night” album, the song functions as both a battle cry and a pulsating throwback to the band’s hard rock roots after their genre-hopping excursions in the late ’70s. The song’s DNA is simple but effective: Simmons tosses in a beefy guitar riff, while Adams and his co-writer Jim Vallance hammer it into sharp-edged functionality, resulting in a track tailor-made for beer-soaked arenas. Lyrically, “War Machine” leans into a mechanized menace, though whether that menace manifests remains debatable—what sticks is the gravelly declaration of power over an ominous groove. Despite being part of an album that didn’t light up charts immediately, the track became a live staple, surviving decades of costume changes, pyro, and lineup shuffles. Kiss likely understood the brutish simplicity of “War Machine” works best surrounded by open flames and roaring crowds. Adams later offered his take on the track, stripping the gloss in favor of an earthier rendition—a move that feels as unexpected as it does grounding. There’s an odd charm in Kiss harnessing Adams’s budding talent, crafting a song that stomps forward with the same grit it celebrated in its inception, standing unaffected by shifting trends. ![]() |
![]() 2 . Iron Maiden . Aces High‘Aces High’ by Iron Maiden catapults listeners into the cockpit of a Spitfire, blending historical gravitas with the unrelenting energy of heavy metal. Opening the band’s 1984 “Powerslave” album with thundering guitars and galloping rhythms, the track mimics the adrenaline of an aerial dogfight at the height of WWII. Written by bassist Steve Harris, the lyrics serve as a feverish diary of a British RAF pilot, capturing the chaos of enemy fire and the unyielding resolve of survival. The track’s cinematic intensity is heightened by its use of samples from Winston Churchill’s wartime speeches during live performances, transforming concerts into immersive historical reenactments. The accompanying music video leans on wartime footage from the 1969 film “Battle of Britain,” further cementing its ambition as a musical and visual time capsule. Critics and fans might argue that its historical dramatization treads the line between homage and melodrama, but the song’s relentless pace quashes any doubts by sheer force. In live performances, ‘Aces High’ consistently turns up as a setlist cornerstone, its soaring riffs and martial rhythms making it both a tribute to resilience and a hallmark of Iron Maiden’s theatrical prowess. ![]() |
![]() 3 . Van Halen . Don’t Tell MeReleased on January 9, 1995, “Don’t Tell Me (What Love Can Do)” finds Van Halen in the throes of the ’90s rock turbulence, delivering a track that snarls and broods in equal measure. Lifted from their “Balance” album, this single ascended to the US Billboard Album Rock Tracks chart’s pinnacle, though its stay was less about celebration and more about confrontation. Sammy Hagar’s vocal delivery channels an almost guttural defiance, while Eddie Van Halen layers the song with grinding guitars that blur between anguish and aggression. The song’s lyrical density draws partial inspiration from the tragic demise of Kurt Cobain, framing existential and societal queries over the backdrop of pounding drums and moody basslines. The music video offers a grim visual extension, chronicling the rough trajectory of a troubled protagonist, filled with prison shots and flares of violence, which mirrors the dark tension that reportedly brewed between Hagar and the Van Halen brothers during the track’s creation. Hagar initially pushed for something more optimistic, but what emerged was tinged with discord, an irony not lost when performed live during their 1995 tour. Van Halen’s knack for channeling internal chaos into potent rock anthems is undeniably evident here, though one might question if “Don’t Tell Me” achieves catharsis or simply lays it bare and leaves it bleeding on the floor. ![]() |
![]() 4 . Alice Cooper . No More Mr. Nice GuyReleased in 1973, Alice Cooper’s “No More Mr. Nice Guy” arrives with a smirk and swagger, a pop-rock anthem wrapped in theatrical rebellion. A lyrical jab at critics and puritan disapproval, it charts the fallout from the artist’s gleeful embrace of his controversial stage persona. The song juxtaposes biting witticisms with tight instrumentation, fusing pop accessibility with rock’s frenetic energy. Clearly indebted to The Who—whose influence is particularly evident in the rhythm guitar à la “Substitute”—it walks a fine line between homage and parody. Cooper’s vocals are simultaneously defiant and tongue-in-cheek, anchoring the track’s satirical edge. Bob Ezrin’s production balances grit with polish, ensuring the song’s mass appeal transcends its sneering premise. Commercially, it found notable success, cracking the charts across continents and becoming a staple in Cooper’s repertoire. Pop culture has embraced it, with appearances ranging from “The Simpsons” to “Dazed and Confused,” confirming its status as equal parts kitsch and classic. In an era saturated with earnest declarations, this track offers self-aware rebellion, cementing Alice Cooper’s role as rock’s court jester with sharp teeth. ![]() |
![]() 5 . Foo Fighters . GeneratorFoo Fighters’ “Generator” is a curious blend of ambition and experimentation cloaked in the band’s signature post-grunge sheen. Released in 2000 as part of their third album, “There Is Nothing Left to Lose,” this track doubles as an ode to the past and a nod to sonic playfulness thanks to Dave Grohl’s decision to wield the talk box, an instrument often linked to the flamboyant ’70s rock of Peter Frampton and Joe Walsh. The single saw limited distribution—sent to Australia and Europe in carefully curated editions, which elevated its air of exclusivity. The Australian CD single leaned heavily into live renditions, offering raw takes on “Learn to Fly” and “Stacked Actors,” whereas the European release softened the tone with acoustic arrangements of “Ain’t It the Life” and “Floaty.” Chart-wise, the song comfortably lingered at number 31 on the Australian ARIA charts and climbed to number 12 on the UK Rock & Metal charts, a modest yet respectable showing. Gold certification in Australia reflects a quietly consistent appeal rather than a runaway hit. And while the band’s studio polish is undeniable, the live performance recorded in Melbourne imbued the track with an edge rarely captured on the album, as it was broadcast with an unassuming intensity via the Seven Network. “Generator” doesn’t quite reinvent anything, but it saunters into the intersection of nostalgia and novelty, offering just enough to intrigue without overstaying its welcome. ![]() |
![]() 6 . Guns N’ Roses . Mr. BrownstoneGuns N’ Roses’ “Mr. Brownstone” stands as a gritty ode to excess and self-destruction, wrapped in the raw energy of 1987’s *Appetite for Destruction*. Born from a chance scribble on a grocery bag, Slash and Izzy Stradlin inject their personal battles with heroin into lyrics that reek of cynical wit and barely veiled regret. The iconic “Brownstone” metaphor doesn’t moralize—it just narrates, riding Steven Adler’s syncopated beat, a sly nod to Bo Diddley’s signature rhythm. This isn’t a song pleading for sympathy; it’s a middle finger raised to consequences, delivered with Slash’s unmistakable licks and Axl Rose’s snarling delivery. The track’s B-side fate in the U.S. (paired with “Welcome to the Jungle”) belies its thematic weight, even as it earned a disturbing cultural footnote decades later when name-dropped in the tragic Virginia Tech shooting narrative. In a troubling turn, this link inspired *Chinese Democracy*’s “Shackler’s Revenge,” making “Mr. Brownstone” the ghost lurking behind Guns N’ Roses’ seismic shifts. Live renditions, particularly at 1988’s “Ritz” show, intensify its vibe—a chaotic anthem capturing the band’s no-apologies ethos set against skyrocketing fame and turbulent inner dynamics. ![]() |
![]() 7 . Billy Idol . Rebel Yell“Rebel Yell” by Billy Idol brings a swaggering defiance that’s practically tattooed across its riffs and snarling vocals. Released in late 1983 as the title track of Idol’s sophomore effort, the song initially struggled with modest chart positions before its 1985 UK reissue propelled it to a far more respectable No. 6. Idol co-wrote the track with guitarist Steve Stevens, whose razor-sharp playing slices through like a chainsaw at a black-tie gala. The song’s bourbon-fueled genesis—reportedly inspired by an evening of revelry with members of The Rolling Stones—sets the tone for its gritty, unapologetic bravado. Jeff Stein’s accompanying music video, filmed partly on the unglamorous streets of Passaic, New Jersey, leveraged the emerging power of MTV to cement the track’s visibility, proving that Idol’s peroxide spikes and leather-clad machismo were perfect for the era’s neon theater. While VH1’s designation of the song as the 79th best hard rock offering of all time might invite some eye-rolls, its enduring placement across soundtracks and video games ensures its pulsating heartbeat remains far from forgotten. Whether performed alongside pop provocateur Miley Cyrus or resurrected in “Guitar Hero World Tour,” the track lives on, equal parts nostalgia and proof that sometimes, all you really need is a primal yell loud enough to rattle the airwaves. ![]() |
![]() 8 . Alice In Chains . Dam That RiverAlice in Chains’ “Dam That River” seems less a call for environmental conservancy and more a blistering tantrum set to music, fitting snugly within their grim 1992 opus *Dirt.* The track is built on unrelenting, metallic riffs that Jerry Cantrell wrangles like a rusted chainsaw, delivering a sound that’s equal parts sludge and precision. Sean Kinney’s drumming drives the song with a spartan relentlessness, no drum fills here demanding your attention—just a primal, metronomic insistence that anchors the chaos. Lyrically, Layne Staley explores fractures in human connection, using barbed metaphors of obstruction and destruction—though what you’d expect from a track called “Dam That River.” It’s neither the album’s most complex offering nor its most emotionally raw, but its brute-force simplicity ensures it holds its own alongside tracks like “Would?” and “Them Bones.” Performed live, including a 1993 Sao Paulo spectacle, it’s the kind of growling beast that makes you both wince and nod. ![]() |
![]() 9 . Metallica . Spit Out The BoneMetallica’s *Spit Out the Bone* arrives as a late-career throwback to their thrash metal roots, complete with relentless riffs and blistering speed that hark back to the ferocity of *Master of Puppets*. James Hetfield’s lyrics channel a dystopian anxiety about technological overreach and the erosion of humanity in the shadow of an algorithm-driven existence. The phrase “spit out the bone” lands as a grim metaphor for discarding the obsolete—namely, human fragility—within a machine-dominated future. Lars Ulrich’s percussion feels like a sledgehammer on overdrive, driving the track through its chaotic tempo shifts, while the guitars—courtesy of Hetfield and Kirk Hammett—slice through the din with technically incisive solos and punishing rhythms. Phil Mucci’s accompanying music video doubles down on the apocalyptic theme, envisioning a sci-fi hellscape where humans are reduced to spare parts for a ravenous AI overlord. The song’s seven-minute runtime is unapologetically indulgent, with enough intricate transitions to make even long-time fans nostalgic for Metallica’s early, more unhinged energy. Debuting live in London in 2017, the track has since become a staple in the band’s setlists, often igniting a sense of communal catharsis among fans with its primal aggression. Its placement on the *WWE 2K19* soundtrack cements its appeal beyond traditional metal audiences, though its chart performance—while respectable—suggests its ambitions lean artistic rather than commercial. For all its rage against automation, there’s something ironically mechanical in its perfectionism, which, depending on your perspective, either heightens its relevance or slightly dulls its edge. Still, as a statement within a polished but cautious album, *Spit Out the Bone* stands out—both as a warning screed and a snarling callback to a time when Metallica seemed poised to swallow the world whole. ![]() |
![]() 10 . Uriah Heep . GipsyUriah Heep’s “Gypsy,” the opener to their debut album “…Very ‘Eavy …Very ‘Umble,” courts a raw, primal energy that hardly feels like a tentative first step for the band. The track, built on a swirling organ riff courtesy of Ken Hensley, interlocks power chords and vocals that alternate between melodramatic and ferocious, with David Byron delivering lines that sound like they’re being wrenched from the depths of his throat. The song resolutely dodges traditional structure: no chorus, no hook to hum along to, just a churning cycle of three verses and that unrelenting riff that feels both heavy and ominous. Mick Box’s guitar solo tears through the haze, but it’s the organ that looms largest, painting the soundscape with gothic textures and a sense of grim inevitability. Thematically, the lyrics are oddly sparse, spinning a vague tale of a man entangled with a mysterious gypsy, yet offering little resolution—just enough to match the song’s restless urgency. Critics of the era, like Billboard, noted its proto-metal leanings, with a rawness that predated the more polished strides of future hard rock icons. Call it a proto-heavy metal anthem, a seventies rock curio, or just Uriah Heep laying a blueprint for their eclectic career, “Gypsy” feels chaotic—sometimes hypnotic, sometimes exhausting, but never dull. Years have done little to dilute its impact, as covers by acts like Saxon only reinforce its reputation for marrying unbridled energy with a pinch of theatrical flair. Even at nearly seven minutes in the album cut, its intensity barely gives listeners a moment to breathe, a fitting introduction to the controlled chaos that would define much of the band’s output in the years to come. ![]() |
![]() 11 . AC/DC . Down Payment BluesReleased in 1978 as part of AC/DC’s album *Powerage*, “Down Payment Blues” strikes a chord as a gritty ode to financial despair. The track’s narrative, penned by Angus Young, Malcolm Young, and Bon Scott, anchors itself in the relatable plight of struggling with money—or the lack thereof—delivered with Bon Scott’s characteristic blend of humor and frustration. Musically, the song unfolds as a slow-burning blues-inspired piece, where Angus Young’s guitar riffs take their sweet time, crafting a measured lament instead of the usual breakneck pace AC/DC is known for. The lyrics, dripping with cynicism, bring out the stark irony of owning a Cadillac but not being able to afford gas, amplifying the humor-laden tragedy of it all. Though *Powerage* flew largely under the radar compared to their later albums, its raw edge and emotional core attracted the admiration of industry heavyweights like Eddie Van Halen and Keith Richards, who hail it as a quintessential AC/DC record. Despite being relegated to live obscurity after 1996, with only 47 performances by the band themselves, “Down Payment Blues” endures as a fan favorite and a shining example of AC/DC’s ability to weave working-class blues into their hard rock framework without losing their swagger. ![]() |
![]() 12 . Deep Purple . Burn“Burn” catapults Deep Purple into their Mark III era, a moment of reinvention as David Coverdale and Glenn Hughes join the ranks. The track plunges into medieval paranoia, painting a feverish picture of witch trials but amplifies it with the soaring energy of hard rock theatrics. Opening with an electrifying riff from Ritchie Blackmore, the song wastes no time locking into its unrelenting tempo, driven by Ian Paice’s rapid-fire drumming. What stands out is how the guitar and Jon Lord’s Hammond organ trade off in technically intricate but fiercely melodic solos, flirting with the classical flourishes the band was known for but never overstaying their welcome. Coverdale’s husky vocals blend with Hughes’s crisp harmonies, creating a dual vocal texture that feels fresh against the churning instrumentals. The lyrics lean into chaos and destruction, reflecting darker themes but without unnecessary heaviness, keeping it all palatable for rock audiences. The song didn’t climb too high on the UK charts, peaking modestly at number 45, but it’s the live performances where “Burn” truly cements its ferocity. As a set opener, its controlled chaos and energy foreshadow the storm to follow, making it an unofficial anthem for Deep Purple’s transitional phase. Despite no major accolades, “Burn” asserts itself as a fiery testament to the band’s adaptability during a period often fraught with lineup turbulence. ![]() |
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