Celebrating Punky Meadows on his 73rd birthday. —Ed.
Well I’ll be damned. The last time I spoke with Punky Meadows at his tanning salon in the Washington, D.C. suburbs, the legendary pretty boy guitarist for the long-defunct “Anti-Kiss” Angel told me he had no interest in returning to the rock stage, and was solely listening to, and playing his guitar along with, country music. But over the intervening years Meadows must have changed his mind, for he has just released his first-ever solo album, Fallen Angel, on Main Man Records.
Interviewing the famously androgynous Meadows, whose hair was invariably perfect and whose pout could beat Ben Stiller’s “Blue Steel” hands down, was an enjoyable experience, largely because Angel—which released six LPs during its career, which ended in 1981—was one of the most histrionic and inadvertently hilarious bands to ever mount a stage. All-white outfits, a giant head with laser beam eyes for a backdrop, Angel and its label Casablanca Records spared no expense in putting on a glamtastic hard rock show. The boys even appeared on stage amidst smoke via lifts under the stage floor, which once led to a real-life Spinal Tap moment when a band member’s lift refused to work. As he cried for help the band milled around on stage, uncertain of what to do. You’ve got to love them for that.
You’ve also got to love Punky for his good humor—when Frank Zappa produced a song called “Punky’s Whips,” which was anything but laudatory, Meadows gladly agreed to appear with Zappa on stage in his outrageous Angel outfit, to play the very song that mocked him. He could’ve held a grudge, but didn’t because as I can attest having spent time with the man, he’s a nice guy.
Anyway, new album, wow. Didn’t see that one coming from a guy who hasn’t played since 1981, and whose attitude towards the music biz was best demonstrated by the fact that after the demise of Angel he turned down offers to join not only The New York Dolls, but KISS, Aerosmith, and Michael Bolton to boot.
One of the best things about Meadows’ new album is that it eschews the prog pretentions and over-the-top pomposity of Angel. Except, I should note, on brief opening track “Descent,” an inadvertently hilarious tune in which a God-like voice intones, over some soaring synthesizers, that Punky has been sent to Earth with his harp to “bring forth sweet music,” before adding, “And they shall know you hereafter as Punky Meadows.”
“Descent” is good for a laugh, but you’ll stop laughing when you hear follow-up “The Price You Pay,” a real cool rocker with an infectious melody that bears the slightest tinge of New Country. Vocalist Chandler Mogel—formerly of Greek/American hard rock band Outloud—doesn’t possess an 18-octave screech, and his down-to-earth vocals are just what the rock doctor ordered, especially when coupled with Meadows’ excellent guitar playing.
“Straight Shooter” opens with some big drum pound but is generic hard rock, unlike “Breathless and Jaded,” a truly wonderful rocker, and one that, like “The Price You Pay,” bears a subtle country-rock tinge. The melody is winning, Mogel’s vocals are stellar, and Meadows’ solo is short but shoots sparks like a downed power line.
“Loaded Gun” opens on a very heavy Neo-Zep note, with lots of chug-a-lug guitar and stinging axe riffs, and if you don’t find yourself pumping your fist to this one it’s most likely because you lost it to a shark at Club Med. Sure, “Loaded Gun” is nothing new, but what it is works, thanks to Meadows’ great soloing and Mogel, who keeps things down to earth. “Lost and Lonely” boasts a decent chorus and that’s about it, while “Home Wrecker” is synth-heavy and possesses a melody that bears a more than passing resemblance to classic Van Halen, but it gives your ears nothing to grab hold of, that is if your ears have fingers, like mine do.
“I Wanna Be Your Drug” opens with some crunchy guitar but turns into a metal lite tune that does nothing for me. As for “Leavin’ Tonight,” it’s the requisite power ballad, with Meadows strumming away on his acoustic guitar while Mogel gives baby the bad news that he’s leaving. Then the rest of the band comes in—while Mogel, in a wonderful moment, says, “Take it”—and just that fast the tune is a winner, thanks to a lovely melody and a killer guitar solo—well two actually—by Meadows.
“Searchin” is a full-throttle tune totally without personality, although its power pop feel makes it listenable. “Something Strange” is real metal, with Meadows’ guitar making like a blowtorch, but once again you’ll feel like you’ve heard this song a thousand times before.
“Shadow Man” opens on a mighty glam note with some Slade-like handclaps and a T-Rex of a guitar riff, and boasts a big multi-voiced chorus and a voice that keeps intoning something behind the singers. All of which leads me to think that despite its generic sound this one would make the perfect single. As for “Shake Shake” it explodes, while amidst the caterwaul the boys in the band make idle chatter. The lyrics may be dumb dumb, but “Shake Shake” has propulsion galore, and that background chatter is great. This one would also make a great single, what with Meadows’ super solo and a melody that is guaranteed to stick in your head.
“Summertime Love” is a definite winner, with lots of big power chords and a fetching melody, to say nothing of a chorus that may be primitive but works. Meanwhile Meadows delivers on another savage solo, leading to the title track, “Fallen Angel,” which is a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am instrumental, complete with canned arena cheers, and probably the LP’s finest moment. Meadows’ guitar is turned to full metal, the opening is all crash and burn, and what follows is a pedal to the metal rock-out. Keyboardist Charlie Cav holds his own with Meadows, while Meadows makes like his first guitar hero, Jimi Hendrix.
Look, there is no denying that the bulk of this LP is derivative and by the numbers. But the world is full of derivative musicians, and unlike many of them Meadows has managed to cut an album that includes some great moments. Indeed, I was truly shocked by how pleasurable a listen Fallen Angel is.
Freed from the shackles of Angel’s prog pretentions, Meadows is able to focus on the essentials, eschewing all the pomp and circumstance that so annoyed me about Angel’s more English sound. It’s obvious that listening to country music has done Meadows some good. He sticks to the basics, serves up some great tunes, and doesn’t include one unlistenable number, and that’s something. God has bequeathed us a fallen angel whose harp makes sweet music, and henceforth he shall be known as Punky Meadows.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
B
