Welcome to another edition of From My Collection. By now, we’re sure you heard it from a friend who heard it from a friend who heard it from another that effective January 1, 2025, REO Speedwagon will cease to exist as a touring entity. Of course, they word this implying they’ll continue as a recording act, but considering its been 15 years since their last album (a collection of Christmas songs), its safe to say that as of next year, the wheels of this Speedwagon won’t be turnin’ anymore. I won’t go into the drama behind this drastic decision, as that too is a bunch of bullshit, but I will use this opportunity to reflect upon these home state heroes. By now, you’re probably wondering: Why on earth is a metal webzine covering REO Speedwagon? Well kiddies, once upon a time, before becoming the patron saints of wine moms, REO Speedwagon was a hard workin’ and harder rockin’ blue collar band. Yes, seriously. Join us as we explore the band’s past life in this retrospective on their eighth studio album, Nine Lives.
Despite being synonymous with the ’80s, the REO Speedwagon story dates back much further, beginning in late 1967 to be exact. The band was formed by keyboardist Neal Doughty and drummer Alan Gratzer while attending the University of Illinois in Champaign. They’d be joined by a revolving door of musicians before settling on a lineup of singer Terry Luttrell, bassist Gregg Philbin, and guitarist Gary Richrath in 1970. In the short span of a few years, REO went from playing college frat parties to anti-war protests in downtown Chicago. And if that last sentence shocks you, again, yes, we are talking about the same REO Speedwagon who catapulted to the top of the charts with “Can’t Fight This Feeling”.
As the ’70s moved onward, so did REO Speedwagon. They’d eventually score a deal with Epic, but the revolving door of members continued from album to album, particularly when it came to lead singers. Displeased with the political leanings of the band’s lyrics, Luttrell would depart in 1972. He was then replaced by Kevin Cronin, who himself would be gone a year later and replaced by Mike Murphy. Murphy would last a few albums before departing in ’75, setting the stage for the subsequent return of Cronin, who has been singing ever since.
Musically, REO Speedwagon were a straightforward midwestern hard rock band. Their early albums boasted an aggressive edge, at times bordering on early metal. That edge, however, would be tamed by 1973’s Ridin’ the Storm Out, in which the band settled on a brand of hard rock that was energetic, yet melodic and accessible, paving the way for AOR. Admittedly, some of these albums were better than others, but everything came together in 1977, when REO released the obligatory live album, Live: You Get What You Play For. Spearheaded by the ripping guitar work of Gary Richrath, Live made even the safest of REO tunes sound like raw explosive ragers, giving them serious credibility amongst the hard rock hordes.
Despite boasting two classic rock staples in “Roll with the Changes” and “Time for Me to Fly”, 1978’s You Can Tune a Piano, But You Can’t Tune a Fish leaned a little too hard into the pop side of the spectrum for many who preferred their rock on the hard and heavy side. This was especially damning in the midst of the explosion of a little west coast band by the name of Van Halen, whose self titled debut became the talk of the town in every town across America. For their next album, REO knew they had to turn it up to 11, which is exactly what they did with 1979’s Nine Lives.
Now I’ve heard some brand this as REO’s “metal album”, and while I’m not sure I’d go that far, I definitely understand the sentiment. Just look at the cover itself. Did our one-time humble hard rockers raid the wardrobe of their old tour mates Judas Priest? As if their flashy fashion choices weren’t enough, the band is flanked by four scantily clad “cat women” who sure give Julie Newmar a run for her money. This is definitely a case where the visual aesthetic of an album matched its accompanying music to a tee.
Nine Lives gets straight to the point, opening with the riff-heavy rocker, “Heavy on Your Love”. True to its title, “Heavy” is indeed a HEAVY tune, boasting sharp riffs boosted front and center, and a machismo attitude, characteristic of acts like UFO, Van Halen, and the more streamlined moments of Judas Priest’s Killing Machine (1978). Its an explosive opener, setting the stage for a truly high octane affair. “Drop It (An Old Disguise)” keeps the riff barrage going, boasting a sort of carefree swagger that’d become synonymous with early Def Leppard. It’s loud, proud, hedonistic, and perfect to crank up at a drunken high school kegger. Heck, the chorus even boasts gallop riffing! A NWOBHM precursor, anyone?
Despite its confrontational title, “Only the Strong Survive” sees REO toning down the heaviness just a tad, at least in terms of arrangement. At its core, “Only the Strong Survive” is a glammy power pop tune, not far removed from classic KISS. Its juxtaposition of happy go lucky charm with riffs blasting through a Marshall stack would’ve made it an ideal rock radio single. Speaking of accessibility, “Easy Money” is a prime exercise in early AOR, that almost sounds like a warmup for 1980’s Hi Infidelity. The verses are quirky and acoustic, while the chorus boogies about in ’70s bonehead fashion. A textbook rendition of Chuck Berry’s “Rock & Roll Music” keeps our blood pumping and does a rock solid job closing out side A.
As we flip over to side B, we’re greeted by one of the most underrated cuts in the REO canon, “Take Me”. Those only familiar with their hits are quick to dismiss REO as brainless “dad rock” or “mom rock”, depending on which era you’re referencing. However, equal measures AOR and ’70s metal, “Take Me” is a brilliant early melodic metal song, complete with dramatic atmosphere, crushing riffs, and unorthodox switchovers. One could compare it to similarly natured songs like “Lightning” or “Golden Country”, but make no mistake: “Take Me” stands on its own.
I mentioned earlier “Easy Money” being a “warmup” for Hi Infidelity, although the same can be said for the largely acoustic “I Need You Tonight”. Chock full of lush vocal harmonies and a singalong chorus, it’s this type of accessibility that would catapult REO to global superstardom a year later. It is very soft in comparison to the rest of the album, but not to the point where it derails it completely. “Meet Me on the Mountain” picks up the pace, doubling down on the UFO vibes of “Heavy” and “Drop It”. Again, Richrath’s guitars scream out of our stereos, while the chorus serves as a sort of musical blast of serotonin. It’s pop metal in its infancy, whether the future titans of the ’80s knew it or not.
Closing it all out is a song that would become one of REO’s most iconic, and is largely the reason we’ve penned this essay in the first place, “Back on the Road Again”. Penned and sung by bassist Bruce Hall, “Back on the Road Again” is a muscular, metallic tale of life on the road as a rock n’ roller, leaving your loved one behind for fame, fortune, and the misadventures that come with it. Lying somewhere between Foreigner and Judas Priest, it was the perfect song for FM airplay, and has been a staple of their live set ever since…well, at least until Hall’s medical leave come November, 2023.
Unfortunately, Nine Lives performed even poorer commercially than its predecessor. More tragic than that, it would mark REO’s permanent farewell to a hard and heavy sound, abandoning their headbanging ways for the greener pastures of adult contemporary radio. It’s hard to imagine the band on this album sharing airtime alongside the likes of The Carpenters or Air Supply, and yet that’s exactly what happened. Frustrated with the ever-softening direction, Richrath would grin and bear it for another decade before departing for good in 1989.
From there, REO would spend the better part of the next 30+ years endlessly touring the amphitheater circuit alongside Styx and *insert other ’70s/’80s AOR band here*, playing the same dozen hits night after night. And while, this might sound like a cynical assessment, it truly isn’t. This is a band who, regardless of my personal feelings towards their post-1979 output, has brought joy to the lives of tens of thousands of people. To see something that brought such light to so many people end in such an abrupt and disheartening manner is, quite frankly, depressing.
Tempting as it may be, I’m not going to point fingers at Kevin Cronin or management or anybody in particular for this decision. All I can do is thank him, Bruce, Neal, and Alan for the incredible music they created, and hope their eyes grace this here essay. Hopefully it’ll be motivation to cut through the red tape, give the fans the farewell they deserve, and who knows, maybe record one last metal album in the process. But as the old song goes, that’s “In My Dreams”.
My favorite REO album, amazing essay my dude!