Welcome to another edition of From My Collection. I must admit that I hate how this series has become a glorified “in memoriam” section, but alas, such comes with the territory when covering such “aging” genres as classic hard rock and traditional metal. Today’s essay is no exception to this ongoing trend, as Bad Company/Mott the Hoople guitarist Mick Ralphs passed away the other day at the age of 81. Leading up to this here article, I was debating which of Ralphs’ musical output I was going to highlight. While his work with Mott the Hoople resonates much more on a personal level these days, that band was largely the brainchild of shade-eyed troubadour and Joe Elliott mentor, Ian Hunter. With this in mind, I have instead opted to highlight the band that shot Ralphs and company to household superstardom, Bad Company, and their eponymous debut. Upon revisiting this classic rock touchstone for the first time in ages, it’s no wonder it sold a million gazillion copies, but we’ll get to that in due time. Until then, here’s the story of Bad Company from Bad Company, which also happens to feature the song “Bad Company”. Rest in power Mick!
The story of Bad Company begins with the ending of Free. Despite their reputation as one of England’s premiere blues rock juggernauts, Free met a rather tragic demise. The band had just gotten back together in ’72, after an abrupt split a year earlier due to the inevitable “creative differences”, and were giving it another shot. This second jaunt resulted in one of their finest albums, Heartbreaker (1973), before the band completely imploded once and for all shortly after its release. This was largely due to the drug habits of guitarist Paul Kossoff, who hardly performed on said album and backed out of its accompanying tour completely, instead opting for an unlimited buffet of quaaludes. Unfortunately, the lyrics to Heartbreaker‘s cornerstone, “Wishing Well”, were all too foreshadowing, as Kossoff met his demise three years later at the age of 25.
Frustrated and dejected, Free vocalist Paul Rodgers and drummer Simon Kirke were on the hunt for new musicians. Free was dead and buried, this time for good. It was time for this dynamic duo to share their talents with a new outfit, and start a fresh chapter. Little did they know said chapter would culminate in 40 million albums sold globally, a hit parade of FM rock staples, and countless sold out arenas. Come ’73, Rodgers and Kirke linked up with two fellow English musos, guitarist Mick Ralphs, formerly of Mott the Hoople, and bassist Boz Burrell, formerly of King Crimson. Together, the quartet grouped under the soon to be iconic moniker of Bad Company.
With such a wild musical pedigree to their name, an in-the-know freaker might’ve picked up Bad Company’s self titled debut expecting some wild blues-prog-glam rock hybrid that would only find its way onto FM airwaves during the witching hour. Turns out it would be anything but. There’s no prog to be found on Bad Company, or glam for that matter. And the blues that is present is executed in a far different manner than Rodgers’ and Kirke’s previous venture. Whereas Free were a blues rock band first and foremost, the blues leanings of Bad Company were mere undertones for a collection of songs that foreshadowed the arena rock explosion of the latter half of the decade.
This formula becomes apparent from the opening riffage of “Can’t Get Enough”. Within mere seconds, it’s obvious this band has adopted a “hit-making” formula to their sound, or at the very least a “hit-conscious” formula. The structure is basic, the chorus is repetitive, and the instrumentation rocks, but subtly. Put it all together and you’ve got a song that gets played daily on classic rock radio to this day for good reason. Some might criticize “Can’t Get Enough” for being oversimplistic, a criticism that can be levied against this entire album really, but as far as I’m concerned, a good song is a good song. Plus, that brief twin guitar solo is pretty damn proto-Robbo and Gorham-helmed Thin Lizzy.
Next up is the nastiest song on the album, and one of my personal favorites, “Rock Steady”. Bad Company isn’t a band usually associated with hedonistic sleaze, which is real shame, because this one here goes toe to toe with the best of ’em. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what the sultry Rodgers is hinting at when asking his female companion to stay with him a while and, ahem, “Rock Steady”. This sentiment is emboldened by Ralphs’ ballsy lead riff, Kirke’s four on the floor beat, and gang backing vocals during the second verse. From top to bottom, “Rock Steady” gives any cut off Aerosmith’s first six a healthy run for its money.
Yet another classic rock staple, most people are shocked to learn that the crawling, hypnotic “Ready for Love” is actually a cover…well, technically speaking. The Ralphs-penned composition originated from his days with Mott the Hoople, and was actually featured on their breakthrough album, All the Young Dudes (1972). Click here to check out that version. Whereas the Hoople rendition is heavier and more abrasive, Rodgers breathed new live into this deep track, giving it a far more seductive edge than Mr. Hunter ever could. With all due respect to Mott himself, I could never imagine his “Dylan with balls” vocal delivery soundtracking a hazy Saturday night at the strip joint like I can Rodgers’.
Side A closes with an unsuspecting ballad in “Don’t Let Me Down”. On this song, the band tones down their instruments while Rodgers shines front and center, letting the world know he’s far more than JUST a rock n’ roll singer. As inspired as he likely was by Steve Marriott and Janis Joplin, it becomes evident that Rodgers’ was also an avid follower of R&B singers like Otis Redding, Sam Cooke, and James Brown. Rodgers’ delivers his vocals on this deep cut with power, passion, and most importantly, soul. If he wasn’t already one of the most identifiable voices in rock n’ roll, “Don’t Let Me Down” only further cemented it.
It “Rock Steady” is the nastiest song on Bad Company, then its title track is without a doubt the heaviest. I know what you’re thinking: “That droning piano song my classic rock radio station plays every other hour?” I used to have this same mindset, until upon stumbling through the FM dial as recent as this past year, “Bad Company” hit me with fresh ears. “Bad Company” isn’t just heavy musically, but lyrically. Chronicling the misadventures of a band of outlaws, the verses of “Bad Company” are set to that ominous piano riff, before that booming chorus kicks in with merciless aggression. Listen closely to how heavy and low Ralphs’ riffs are during said chorus. Arena doom, anyone?! Couple this with Rodgers’ ever-convincing vocal attack, and you’ve got not just another song, but a damn mission statement. Five Finger Death Punch sound like mere pussies by comparison.
Following such a hefty wallop, “The Way I Choose” serves as the perfect contrast and palette cleanse. After all, you can’t have darkness without a little bit of light. For a band of pseudo-hard rockers (getting to that shortly), they sure could execute soft rock with equal certitude. Mind you, this was the era of Bread, Loggins and Messina, and other various soft rock/adult contemporary sap that would soon mutate its way into “yacht rock” come the latter half of the ’70s. If Bad Company wanted to, they could hang with the best of them, even if only for a song…which ultimately brings us back to the point at hand.
You’re probably wondering why I branded Bad Company as pseudo-hard rockers. Come “Movin’ On”, it should be rather apparent. Similar to “Can’t Get Enough”, and much of this album for that matter, the Bad Company ethos is on full display. “Movin’ On” rocks hard enough that you can crank it up and air guitar to Ralphs’ chunky riff-o-rama, but not to the point of scaring off your parents the way other hard and heavy acts like Sabbath, Purple, and even Zeppelin (Every teenage girl had her eyes on Plant’s pants) did in ’74. I’ve often credited Blue Öyster Cult’s Agents of Fortune (1976) and Spectres as being proto-pop metal, paving the way for the likes of Def Leppard, Bon Jovi, and Whitesnake come the ’80s. However, upon revisiting Bad Company, I’m starting to have second thoughts. This right here might just be ground zero.
Interestingly enough, Bad Company doesn’t go out with a bang, but a tender whisper. The acoustic “Seagull”, arguably Rodgers’ signature song, sees the iconic frontman tapping into the world of fantastical singer/songwriter adventurism. Just as the bird itself “flies through the sky”, Rodgers vocals fly through our stereo, giving us a sense of ethereal depth. Perhaps the inclusion of such a cut was a nod to Led Zeppelin III (1970)? After all, Bad Company was the first album released on Jimmy Page’s Swan Song label, and singlehandedly bankrolled the label’s releases to follow.
With its irresistible hooks and top shelf musicianship, Bad Company was a smash hit right out of the gate. Nearly every song became a hit single, and as I’ve stated multiple times throughout the course of this essay, receives regular rotation on FM radio over half a century later. The album would sell in excess of 5 million copies in America alone, where the individual members found greater success as Bad Company than they ever did in their prior outfits. Like every great band, Bad Company too would crash and burn, go through the inevitable personnel changes, and then ride one last time into the sunset with 3/4ths of its classic lineup.
Today, Kirke keeps busy with various studio projects (the Steve Overland (FM)-fronted Lonerider comes to mind), while Rodgers is largely retired due to a health scare that almost claimed his life. Burrell passed in 2006, and Ralphs, prior to his passing this week, remained bedridden for the better part of a decade due to a 2016 stroke. Indeed, age and the downfalls that come with it are an inevitability, but quality rock n’ roll? That’s timeless. Thankfully, Bad Company left us enough to last 10 lifetimes. They’re Bad Company, they can’t deny. Bad, Bad Company, until the day they die.