I
“I guess it’s just the woman in you
that brings out the man in me,”
an objectively dumb lyric.
I’m not looking forward to this.
I have five, that’s right, five Foreigner
albums, inherited by my older brother
who hasn’t plugged in a turntable
for decades now. Like the Flashdance
soundtrack, but in a very different
stylistic direction, I don’t think I’ll
be feeling these records in my bones,
only vaguely, especially with regards
to the debut album, which, as a 13
year old boy, I remember hearing
over and over at the houses of my
friends and on the radio. It was music
I liked. And, I guess, I must confess,
they were good musicians in a good
band writing good songs with dumb
words. In the beginning, even though
the debut record might be the best
one, they weren’t quite sure what
kind of a rock band they were going
to be. Note the confounding coupling
on side one of “Starrider,” some kind
of sci-fi-tinged prog rock flirtation,
followed by “Headknocker,” a stupid
and violent macho rock standard.
A few things are clear, though. One,
that Lou Gramm could really sing.
Two, Mick Jones could really play guitar.
And three, these songs are pretty
damn catchy. I can sing along. I can
appreciate the craft and the musicianship,
but where I am right now with my
taste the way it is and my orientation
toward the unconventional and lyrically
challenging, a taste and orientation
I developed probably just a matter
of a few years into my teens and have
held on to ever since,
I just don’t love this.
Three quarters into the debut album now
and not hating the experience, exactly,
I don’t know how far I can get
through these five records.
II
I can’t believe I’m singing along:
“Are you hot, mama? You sure look
that way to me.” I’m not sure this
pick-up line would work in 2026.
It’s interesting to me, that even the
vocal riffing that Lou Gramm does
in “Double Vision” is cemented in
memory. But I can see these guys
stretching out on this second record,
sometimes successfully, in the jazz
pop vibe of “You’re All I Am,”
and sometimes not successfully,
in the plodding instrumental of
“Tramontane.” At any rate, album
number two down, somewhat painlessly.
III
At least the first two records had
tasteful illustrations and photos
of a pretty cool looking band, whereas
the album cover art of Head Games
is a disturbing photo of a young
teenage girl, clearly distressed,
in the boy’s bathroom
trying desperately by the urinals
to wash off some graffiti from the
toilet stall wall. I guess somebody
thought that was a cool image.
And isn’t it common knowledge,
as the first tune on the album asserts,
that every girl wants a dirty white boy?
Many if not most of these tunes find
Foreigner at their most misogynistic.
Oh, the Seventies and the Eighties.
But here’s an oddity, and a lyric turn
finally to a different subject matter:
did you know that Foreigner had a song
called “Blinded By Science”?
IV
There were other bands from this era
stylistically not too different from Foreigner
who nevertheless, at least for me, have
withstood the test of time much better,
who still have a strong hold on my musical
imagination, whose records are still
extremely satisfying to listen to, records
I would not seriously be considering
removing from the collection. What was
different about them? In part, I didn’t
acquire Foreigner albums as a kid, so they’re
not, outside of a number of radio hits,
imbedded in my musical muscle memory.
But in the late 70’s rock that I did gravitate
towards, in all cases, I think, there was a
willingness to experiment, there was
a strangeness, there was a sense of humor,
and there were surprises, an aesthetic
that evolved and grew with time. Even as
a kid, even if I couldn’t have articulated it,
I was in tune with music that struck me
somewhere deep within my being, and
Foreigner wasn’t it.
V
The first three songs on side one of their fourth
studio album sound dumb to me, “Jukebox
Hero” in particular. For some reason our guy
Lou Gramm sounds more like Brian Johnson
from AC/DC. Surprisingly, when “I’ve Been
Waiting for a Girl Like You” comes on, I’m
in a much better mood. Do I really like this
song? Its familiarity, perhaps, is just comforting,
and, as power ballads go, it’s a damn good one.
“LuAnne” feels like a pleasant departure. It’s
a jaunty little number that’s not,
like the other dumb songs on side one,
pretending to be heavy. “Urgent” has
a certain groovy quality that I like, that guitar
riff, the keyboards in the chorus, but it’s pretty
much down hill from there. I’ve only got one
more album to go. Might as well go the whole hog.
The whole Foreigner hog.
VI
It happened to almost everybody straddling
these two decades: poisoned by the eighties.
Out of the gate in Agent Provocateur, they sound
like a hair band, or, what did we call it? Butt rock.
The electronic drums here are criminal.
The synthesizers come to the forefront on track
two. Are there any guitars in this mix at all?
The words continue to be stupid. I don’t think
I can stay in this room. I’m going downstairs
to sort the laundry. “I Wanna Know What
Love Is” comes on, and again, surprisingly,
I’m okay with that. There’s a choir at the end
for the most gigantic outro ever. I fear that
this may be the album’s peak, right after the
third song. I’m trying to hang in there. More
butt rock on side two. It’s 1984 and the band
can’t quite decide whether to emulate AC/DC or
Journey, and the struggle is real. I was correct.
Not a single track that I would characterize
as a good song after that big hit three tunes in.
Five albums down. It’s time to walk the dogs.
.
Notes on the vinyl editions: I am guessing, as my brother bought all of Foreigner’s records when they were released, that it’s possible that these are all first pressings. I don’t know if I can justify keeping them in the collection, so they might yield a pretty good return if I take them to my local record shop for trade. All of these records are in pristine condition.
- Foreigner, Atlantic Records, 1977, black vinyl..
- Double Vision, Atlantic Records, 1978, black vinyl.
- Head Games, Atlantic Records, 1979, black vinyl.
- 4, Atlantic Records, 1981, black vinyl.
- Agent Provocateur, Atlantic Records, 1984, black vinyl.
In case you don’t already know: I’m listening to almost everything in my vinyl collection, A to Z, and writing at least one, sometimes two or three long skinny poem-like-things in response for each artist, and on a few occasions, writing a long skinny poem-like-thing in response to more than one artist. As a poet and a student of poetry, I understand that these things look like poems, but they don’t really sound much like poetry, hence, I call them “poem-like-things.” I’ll admit that they’re just long, skinny essays that veer every now and then into the poetic or lyric.
michael jarmer 