Willjlevith's Blog

Dennis DeYoung

One Hundred Years From Now

Rounder Records

Produced by Dennis DeYoung

Street Date: April 14, 2009

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I remember the first time I really gave a good listen to Styx—I was working a summer job, washing dishes in the sweaty, grimy kitchen of a local Italian bistro. Sure, I’d heard Styx before on the local classic rock station but had never really done hard labor to it. That fateful night, another dishwasher, whose name I believe was Gary, said that he’d discovered an amazing new album (The Grand Illusion) and that we should use it as our scrubbing music for at least ’til the album was over. I think he threw in for dramatic emphasis that it was the one with “Come Sail Away” on it.

Now, I’m not going to lie: dishwashing wasn’t the most amazing job in the world, and I could have done it to Sade, had she been singing live near the grease-crusted oven. And that night, though I finished my shift having actually heard an entire Styx album, from to back, I wasn’t blown away. It seemed, well, too produced, the lyrics overly dramatic and the “it” was really nothing special: high-harmonies and loud guitars. It sounded like the ’70’s precursor to the era they have come to call “hair metal,” an era a lot of us would just soon forget.

And so brings me to the album by Dennis DeYoung, which made it to my kitchen table: One Hundred Years From Now (of no relation to The Byrds-cum-Gram-Parsons’ song “One Hundred Years From Now,” I can safely say; though, I did, for a second, wonder).

In reading the press materials, we find that DeYoung is “a singer, songwriter, keyboardist and record producer” and has seven solo albums under his belt. Not a bad output for a guy who we find has completely gone gray/white in the liner-note booklet. I would like to hope that I’m still doing amazing feats when I’m gray/white—and god forbid anyone should notice, but I’m starting to go gray on the sides of my head.

Strangely absent from DeYoung’s press is information about One Hundred Years From Now. Nearly every line on both sheets is his musical C.V.—what he’s done over the years as a member of Styx, et cetera. Which begs the question: Does his label really give a hoot about this record, or is it just trying to lure in the Styx fans? “Who needs new Dennis DeYoung fans?” says this press. “Don’t even listen to this album,” it continues, “just fucking buy it. It’ll sound like Styx. Don’t worry; the old coot is out on his own now but just because he’s going by his own name doesn’t mean it’s not going to sound like the real thing.” Well, that’s at least what the press says to me. How about the music?

First impression: Holy shit! It sounds exactly like Styx! Everything seems to be there: The overproduction, the ultra-Broadway-esque lyrics, the pre-hair-metal hair metal, the BIG guitars. I mean, I would’ve been better off just receiving this in the mail without any press—it’s Styx, for chrissake, without the silly name tacked onto the front. No “grand illusion” here, Mr. DeYoung. Now, I have to admit that, having not heard any of his other solo albums, I was sort of hoping that DeYoung had dropped that sound, which was never really all that original in the first place, and gone the opposite way of, say, Bob Dylan: unplugging his riotous guitars, playing “acoustic” pianos, writing songs that don’t evoke the Globe Theatre. I was actually hoping that this was a Byrds covers album. But no, it’s not, and what we’ve got here is Styx, through and through. Call it what you want to, but this is Styx.

Song(s) of note: A-ha! Remember the sentence right before this one where I called this a Styx album? Well, according to Mr. DeYoung this is, in fact, not a Styx album at all. His evidence? The song of note: “There Was a Time,” which I’m going to go out on a limb and say was written by Dennis DeYoung for Dennis DeYoung as a rock-and-roll pep-talk. A “Fuck Styx It’s Time to Grow Up” pep-talk. “There was a time when we believed in happily everafters/And fair tales would always end[.]” We’re talking about the “royal we”—i.e. “I.” So goes this song, a story of the rise and fall of Styx. There were good times and bad, but what comes out of it all is the “I” and the “me”—not the fucking royal we, which DeYoung is hiding behind. How about this line: “There was a time/When all our dreams were filled with grand illusions[.]” Basically, this song is telling Dennis to put the past behind him, embrace the solo career he’s carved out for himself, remember the big hits (“Grand Illusion”) and put any thoughts of an original-Styx-lineup reunion tour on hold (because I guarantee that’s been on his mind, given the sheets of dough other acts have been making on similar tours. The Police, My Bloody Valentine, The Stooges—the list goes on and on.). [I feel a rant coming on.] It’s this type of song that really never makes me feel sorry for rockstars when they bottom out or lose their stadium-sized fanbases. I’m starting to think that this type of attitude is what broke up the band in the first place: me, me, me. Well, guess what, Mr. DeYoung? There’s more to life than just you. Look, most people dig “Come Sail Away,” because it’s a fun(ny) song, which sounds like Kansas (see “Carry On Wayward Son“) and Boston and Supertramp and all the other stuff that came out around the same time. A lot of people bought it and a lot of people dig it still like they dug it back then. And that ain’t going to change. But what will (and has to) change is you. You’re going to get older, you’re going to get wiser, but if you keep on being the silly, old asshole that you are in this song, you might as well put the dream to bed. As my father’s mother used to say: “Self-praise stinks.” Vivian knew a thing or two.

Roundup: I’m not going to give this album a crappy grade. In fact, there’s much more to it than just a self-centered song about Dennis DeYoung, which I happened to single out here. It’s a protest album—at the War in Afghanistan and Iraq and life in general (see “Private Jones” and “Turn Off CNN”). DeYoung’s right; life pretty much sucks right now, and we can blame a lot of it on our leaders and corporate chiefs. “I Don’t Believe in Anything” is as far from a Styx song as you can get (save the chorus)—and is a hidden gem on the album. It’s got slide guitars and a computerized-sounding backbeat, which is ironic, because the song is an anti-computer song. For some reason, DeYoung has a bone to pick with computers—CGI, DSL and Auto-Tune. He also takes a swipe at politicians—which is a little out of place in the song, but you know what? It’s worth hit just to hear Dennis DeYoung say that politicians are “all so full of shit.” Since this album genre is completely out of my comfort zone, I’ll give it my blessing—as long as you give it a listen and realize what you’re getting yourself into. This IS a fucking Styx album, godammit. Don’t have any illusions about it.