Styx album-by-album

When I was younger I despised Styx. Although admittedly one of the first albums I ever bought was The Grand Illusion (1977).

Blame that “purchase” on the Columbia Record and Tape Club (10 records for a buck, or something like that). Also, the band was ubiquitous on Winnipeg’s 92 CiTi FM, a station that, as a 12-year-old just discovering music, I hadn’t yet learned to love to hate. (To this day, whenever I visit family in my hometown, I always tune in at least a few times while driving around the city. It’s comforting to know that, even after the zombie apocalypse or whatever comes next, 92 will be pumping out Harlequin, Streetheart, Queen City Kids, Honeymoon Suite, The Pumps, and other Canadian bands that time forgot.)

For some perverse reason, I recently decided to take a deep dive into the back catalogue of this band that was, for me, synonymous with the excesses of ’70s rock. As a teen, I gravitated towards punk early on, though not the hardcore stuff, and not the lifestyle. The (self)-righteous anger of the Clash, Stiff Little Fingers, the Jam and early Elvis Costello—that was my fuel for getting through high school.

Cut to a few weeks ago. One of my clients asked for a package of a dozen stories with a tight deadline. The stories required more gruntwork than insight, but I would need to stay focused for long periods of time to get everything done on time. I like to write with music on in the background, but this called for something that was neither thought-provoking or attention-grabbing. Enter Styx.

I’m not sure why this ’70s holdover of all ’70s holdovers (REO Speedwagon, Kansas, Bob Seger) popped into my brain; I probably hadn’t thought of them in months if not years. “Sail Away,” “Mr. Roboto,” “Renegade”—if asked, I could come up with the names of a handful of songs. I might even have recalled that (Canadian) Lawrence Gowan had joined as lead singer at some point.

But I became curious. Where did Styx come from? What were its members’ origins? Who were its members? (Uh, I remembered a couple of names—James Shaw and Dennis DeYoung?) What was their stuff like before they broke through? What was their first big hit? Was there some early Styx that was actually decent rock ‘n’ roll, before the prog-rock pretensions got to them? What weirdness would I unearth? Would I finally be able to make my peace with Styx?

Also, Spotify makes such projects easy. Find the artist, their discography, and start at the beginning. And that’s what I did. Beginning with…

Styx (1972)

Do you remember the scene in This is Spinal Tap where Bruno Kirby, as a limo driver, tries to engage the band? He opens by talking about Frank Sinatra. But the band ignores him.

He turns to filmmaker Marty DiBergi (Rob Reiner) in the passenger seat. “People like this, you know, they get all they want so they don’t really understand about a life like Frank’s.”

I swear, Christopher Guest & co. must have gotten the idea from “Movement for the Common Man.” Halfway through the first part of this 13+-minute, four-part epic, which opens Styx’ 1972 eponymous debut, the music drops out and we hear from a guy who sounds like he must be a cab driver. (According to genius.com, this was actually original Styx member John Curulewski. Not sure if this is the case.) Anyway, he’s telling the band about a previous passenger:

“No offence to you gentlemen, he had long hair, a beard, and I told him, you better go home and take a bath. He had b.o. so bad it was terrible. I said you might be educated but did your parents tell you to go dirty?…”

Then he goes into a riff about “kids nowadays”:

“That’s the whole thing Too much money. They got too much money. They don’t have to go out and struggle and work for things like when I was growing up and had to. I was lucky if I got a job delivering hats for a hat store for 25 cents a hat. Too much money today with the young kids. Everything is handed to them and that’s why they are the way they are.”

That comes later, though. The song kicks off as a straight-ahead rock blues-boogie number, complete with cowbell (mandatory in ’72) and a tonsil-quivering chorus about “children of the land.” (According to genius.com, this part is in fact called “Children of the Land.”) A lengthy break devolves into a little solo bass and psych guitar before a rippling organ comes in followed by some Rick Wakeman-like keyboard squiggles. (Yes released its debut in 1969.)

Finally we get the snippets of dialogue mentioned above. That ends and in blare strutting keyboards (“A fanfare wakes the land” goes the lyric; this is that fanfare waking the land) and a little acoustic guitar that leads into a more electric boogie feel. The last part is melodic and acoustic, like something off the first Heart album. (Although the first Heart album, Dreamboat Annie, did not appear until 1975.)

Here in the morning light
We spent our holiday
Here in the morning
At Mother Nature’s matinee

It’s quite an opener, ambition-wise. It’s also worth noting that the song introduces a theme that will become run through the band’s lyrics: the plight of the common man. In future installments of this prospective series, if there are any, I will look into the backgrounds of the individual band members.

Also worth noting is the cover for its sheer ’70s-ish-ness: the guys, shirtless, their bottom halves obscured by flame (superimposed candles?) while they stand amidst a blue-and-green-tinted landscape of Hieronymous Bosch-type figures.

The five remaining songs are fine but mostly by-the-numbers early ’70s rock with proggy flourishes. The mid-tempo “Right Away” has a bit of a Southern-rock feel; “What Has Come Between Us” jumps between tinkling piano and proggy guitar wallop before becoming an acoustic number addressing a “lovely lady.” Some nice drum fills and harmonies I guess, but nothing special.

“What Has Come Between Us” Is one of three covers on the six-song, 32-minute album. According to Wiki, the record label (Wooden Nickel) suggested the covers, none of which the band had heard before (and they had started out as a cover band). A singer/songwriter named Mark Gaddis wrote this one.

“Best Thing” is another original. It pretty much swoons, “Welcome to my bachelor pad, enjoy the blacklight posters and lava lamp while I pour you a Harvey Wallbanger.” The chorus is kind of sticky (no pun intended). Apparently, this was the single; according to Wiki, it peaked at #82 in the charts.

“Quick is the Beat of My Heart”: Funk guitar gives this one a gritty texture. Otherwise generic ’70s blues-rock. Forgive me in advance for what will be my many uses of the term “generic,” but it can’t be helped in the case of this band I’m afraid. Lewis Mark wrote this one. Who? Not even the internet knows for sure.

“After You Leave Me”: The third cover, written by funkmeister George Clinton (!) and given the Styx prog-rock carousel treatment. To paraphrase Tom Waits, the guitar has been smoking hash. Clinton later put his version on the 1974 album The George Clinton Band Arrives. Maybe it’s better (i.e. funkier) than this, but there’s no saving the lyrics.

Next: we dive even deeper with Styx II, one of two albums the band released in 1973.