bat out of hell (1977) – meat loaf: epic records, pe-34974

In many ways, Bat Out Of Hell is the quintessential Rock Opera because the hyper-exaggerated melodrama upon which the art of opera is built extends well beyond the actual tracks on the record. The arias started before the recording began and the fat lady’s singing continued long after the album hit the stores and started getting airplay. From concept through creation, from marketing and into legacy, Bat Out Of Hell isn’t just the ultimate Rock Opera, it’s also the ultimate Rock Meta-Opera.

Bat Out Of Hell's story is so incredibly bizarre that it really ought to have been sung by Caruso. Briefly: Jim Steinman fancied himself a bit of an auteur, having been involved in annoyingly “artistic” experimental musical theater since the 60’s. You know, the sort where one sees a man in a white suit playing a piano engulfed in flame, whilst a dancer covered in blood convulses in a grotesque charade of sexual innuendo around a cabbage. Yeah, that sort of thing.

Anyway, Steinman got it into his head that he wanted to write a rock opera about some motorcycle dude who ends up a grease-spot on the road. The entire story happens during those very brief moments between crash and death, wherein our intrepid motorcycle dude hero relives key moments in his relationship with his main squeeze, only to eventually die and wind up in hell.

Or something like that.

Now, fate had it that Steinman had met Meat Loaf during a National Lampoon travelling show (yes, this is true), and Steinman immediately realized that this long-haired, over-fed ogre would be the ideal front man for his motorcycle dude hero. Meat liked the idea very much, and eventually the two of them ended up trying to pitch the album to record companies by going in person and auditioning some songs live. Imagine that for a moment … you’re a record exec and you get an insufferable “artist” and a very large man in your office screaming pretentious rock arias at you. Needless to say, it didn’t work.

Until they met Todd Rundgren, that is. Rundgren saw the absurdity and the creativity in the two, and ultimately shepherded the album through the recording process.

But the drama doesn’t stop there. Once recorded there was a question of ego. The label felt that Meat Loaf should be the name on the album – it was catchy, short, and very memorable. Steinman, however, felt slighted because the album really was his creation. The spat eventually had an unsatisfactory resolution with the addition of a lesser credit,  “Songs by Jim Steinman” printed in very fine, light, and small font along the bottom.  Trust me, it's there.  Look very closely and you can see it.

And with that, Bat Out Of Hell was finally released.

Side 1: Bat Out Of Hell Your Took The Words Right Out Of My Mouth (Hot Summer Night) Heaven Can Wait All Revved Up With No Place To Go
Side 2: Two Out Of Three Ain’t Bad Paradise By The Dashboard Light Paradise Let Me Sleep On It Praying For The End Of Time For Crying Out Loud

My introduction to Bat Out Of Hell came unexpectedly while I was settled in to watch Don Kirshner’s Rock Concert late one Friday night.

(Side note for the kids out there: Back in the 70’s we didn’t have MTV, but instead had these shows like Don Kirshner’s Rock Concert, which were anywhere from 30 to 90 minutes long and featured either filmed or mock-live performances by bands.)

To continue: I was watching Rock Concert when the video for Paradise started. My first reaction was excitement, because I recognized Meat Loaf from his role as Eddy on Rocky Horror Picture Show. And then the song started, and I was blown away. For a 14 year old kid, Paradise was deep, man. It combined Springsteen-like music with clever lyrics and told the story of a dude who would do just about anything to get laid, only to have some serious regrets about it later. Plus, the video had Karla DeVito in a skin-tight white leotard lip-synching to Ellen Foley’s singing, and I thought Karla was smoking hot.

Let’s recap: there’s a video with Eddy from RHPS and an incredible sexy Karla DeVito singing a long, complicated song about teenage lust. So I ask you, what choice did I have? How could I not get the album?

And so I did, back in 1978. And I’ve listened to it many times since then. And did it again just last night. And it’s still good for all the wrong reasons. By any objective measure, Bat Out Of Hell is a horrible album.  The lyrics are the kind of self-absorbed bad poetry found in leather-bound journals of surly teenagers suffering from suburban angst and are often too clever by half. I mean, get a load of this back-and-forth opening from You Took The Words Right Out Of My Mouth:

[Boy:] On a hot summer night, would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses?
[Girl:] Will he offer me his mouth?
[Boy:] Yes.
[Girl:] Will he offer me his teeth?
[Boy:] Yes.
[Girl:] Will he offer me his jaws?
[Boy:] Yes.
[Girl:] Will he offer me his hunger?
[Boy:] Yes.
[Girl:] Again, will he offer me his hunger?
[Boy:] Yes!
[Girl:]And will he starve without me?
[Boy:] Yes!
[Girl:] And does he love me?
[Boy:] Yes.
[Girl:] Yes.
[Boy:] On a hot summer night, would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses?
[Girl:] Yes.
[Boy:] I bet you say that to all the boys!

Okay, now imagine this done by two kids in a Sophomore seminar in enhanced emoting during recitation, and you’ll just begin to get an idea of how agonizing the lyrics can be.

Meanwhile, the music tends to follow a formula of multiple false-endings, in-song time-signature shifts, and soaring grandiosity typical of stuff where the sheer volume and weight of the pomposity is intended to hide a lack of real quality.  Now, some have compared Steinman's work on Bat Out of Hell with Springsteen's work on his first three albums.  Now, while there are similarities in the structure and arrangements, Springsteen was in love with the Big Rock Band sound, while Steinman seems is more in love with theatrics that is so far over-the-top that it’s actually bumping up against the bottom.

In short, Bat Out of Hell (and, by extension, Jim Steinman) takes itself way too seriously.  And normally that would be a fatal flaw. But here’s the thing: despite the juvenile emotional catharsis of it all and the nauseating posing, Bat Out Of Hell is saved by the fact that at its heart it’s genuine, and not just pretense. In short, Bat Out Of Hell works because it really is ars gratia artis – art for art’s sake. And that forgives the sins of laughably smug lyrics and indulgent music.

So yes, during this listen I found that even though Bat Out Of Hell is a complete clusterfuck, at the same time it’s simply sublime. And album that is unintentionally comical, but also genuine in its depth. Something so godawfully bad it is a masterpiece.

Well done, Mr. Steinman. Well done.

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