Rock the Nations

One of my favorite Aesop's Fables is the one where the son, the father, and the donkey all walk through a village. The dad's on the donkey, then the son's on the donkey, then they're both on the donkey, then no one is. This is because the village keeps shouting at them, claiming it's disrespectful to make the father walk, cruel to make the donkey carry both of them, dumb to not use the donkey at all... I can't remember why the dad can't ride it by himself. Maybe the son had leprosy or something. Oh well. The moral of the story is everyone's an asshole, and Rock the Nations sucks.

Rock the Nations is an album that places too much stock on compromise, attempting to please everyone and having no personality of its own as a result. It's an incoherent psychosis of well-intentioned Wheels of Steel retreads, interspersed with mawkish glam rock sedatives like we've recently been suffering through. The most notable example of each is 'Battle Cry' and 'You Ain't No Angel', with the former following the recipe for a great Saxon tune almost verbatim. A phenomenal rolling drum pattern is complimented by Biff's carefully harmonized vocal lines, tied together with a spectacular proto-power metal riff. This composition by its lonesome blows Power and the Glory and Crusader out of the water. 'You Ain't No Angel', conversely, is sitting at the bottom of the water, wondering why its lungs hurt.

The dullardly glam tracks have ditched the introspective affectations of Innocence Is No Excuse and come across as substanceless and forgettable. 'Empty Promises' and 'Waiting for the Night' have a decided lack of atmosphere, emotion, and well, songwriting. The major scale leads are like sweet bubble gum that immediately loses its flavor, and by the third or fourth minute, the circuitous rock riffs are only tasting of spit and disappointment. I would honestly take Tokyo Blade's Blackhearts and Jaded Spades over this, and that's a damn shame.

And then there's the rose-tinted spectacles aspect, and by that I mean Elton John. Mentioning Sir John's involvement in Rock the Nations would've probably gotten my point across faster than that Aesop's Fable, now that I think of it. His contributions include the diabetic love ballad 'Northern Lady', as well as a solo in 'Party Til You Puke'. As ridiculous as the 50's boogie-woogie motif is, I have to admit, this track is quite similar to my favorite from their debut album, 'Still Fit to Boogie'.

Although by and large a failure in my book, Rock the Nations could've been worse. It managed to bring some great additions to Saxon's setlists, which is more than I'd say of Crusader. That alone is worthy of some kudos, but there's still no sense in settling for this sort of diluted compromise when you could either have Wheels or Steel or Innocence is no Excuse instead.