The Not-Pop Jukebox

I was discussing with KonwayEast of WaterCoolerThe the strength of Meatloaf as a stage name the other day, inasmuch as a Twitter exchange can be called a discussion. He opined that it was so obvious as to be ironic that a lumpy white boy would take the name of the ultimate suburban meal stereotype. I made derisive noises and opined that Mr. Loaf was more likely to have been eating dinner when someone asked him under what name he’d like to be billed and he simply chose what first came to mind.

My dismissive attitude toward Meatloaf’s ability to think deeply is rooted, I admit, in a complete disregard for his musical efforts. I find the man’s catalog derivative and predictable in the extreme and his sweaty efforts at being sexy repulse me. I may possibly have referred to him as White Bread more than once. But perhaps that is unfair of me, having formed this opinion at keg parties surrounded by frisky college boys who thought the lyrics somehow seductive. Well, that and his voice makes me cringe.

In the interest of objective reporting, I subjected myself…err, listened to some lesser-known Meatloaf tracks. I’m sorry, my darlings, but I just can’t see the appeal. Meatloaf does nothing that hasn’t been done, better in my opinion, by people with far cooler pseudonyms. His involvement with The Rocky Horror Picture Show does not exonerate him for decades’ worth of “rock” pap filled with cliches. I've thrown in Midnight at the Lost and Found as not-awful and Nocturnal Pleasures as the sort of thing I'd respect him for doing, if he wrote more like it.