Glowing like the metal on the edge of a knife
like a sinner before the gates of heaven
Meat Loaf died the other day. There was a lot of reaction, as you might expect, particularly from my generation who were in their late teens when Bat Out of Hell was released, seemingly coming out of nowhere.
Some of the reaction was based on aspects of his personality, and he had recently made public comments about mask mandates and Covid restrictions, making his reported death from Covid unfortunately ironic. To be clear, I do not gainsay those sentiments or criticise those who express them but nor do I take pleasure in the karmic aspects of his death. In fact, since Friday I’ve dug out my cd of Bat Out of Hell and played it several times at high volume in the shed – I’ve probably played it more in the last three days than in the last 40 years. And I’ve enjoyed it.
Part of the enjoyment is the exuberant performance of the songs by him and Ellen Foley, but at least as much of it is the quality of the songs themselves as produced by Todd Rundgren. The material is mostly killer, and Meat Loaf had the perfect voice for it, although – and bear with me here – I have found myself wondering what Roy Orbison would have made of it.
I mean, everyone who was ever an adolescent can relate to we were barely 17 and we were barely dressed. What adult can’t relate to the pains and regrets in our teenage past, all the things we keenly remember and hope everyone else has forgotten? All set to over-the-top orchestrations and guitars sounding like a motorcycle?
The criticism of Meat Loaf the man -v- Meat Loaf the performer brings us back to the thorny question of what to do about disagreeable people who produce good work – the world, and history, are full of such. I’m not going to get into the modern debate about ‘cancel culture’ here – I haven’t really thought about it in sufficient depth, but, when it comes down to it, Bat Out of Hell was a collaborative effort between Jim Steinman, Todd Rundgren, Ellen Foley and Meat Loaf, and however much one might find one of them problematic, the whole is greater than the sum: three out of four ain’t bad, as the song almost said.
Like many in the UK, my first encounter with Bat Out of Hell and Meat Loaf was on The Old Grey Whistle Test and the performance linked below. Paradise by the Dashboard Light, is a sleazy song, but it’s neither more nor less sleazy (and considerably less saccharin-coated) than John Travolta in Grease, and Karla DeVito, who is absolutely not Olivia Newton-John, gives as good as she gets.
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