Ratt
Out Of The Cellar

Ok, ok. I admit it, this can be considered a flashy album, a typical product of hair metal made in 80's. Teased hair, spandex, package reinforcement, traces of lipstick. Concerts in large arenas, with very American-style blondes screaming with their breasts out. Cocaine, lots of cocaine. Rivers of alcohol. Reaganite hedonism in spades. Party rock.

But what can I tell you? I grew up with this music. Stephen Pearcy, with that hoarse voice, raucous and terribly sensual, was the uncontested idol of my adolescence. The opposite sex was a new world, and the audacity of Step and his companions helped me discover it. It gave me confidence.

Then you grow up and start listening to other stuff. Serious things, like Bowie, Reed, Led Zeppelin, Doors. You educate yourself, listen to friends who come over and say "what are you doing with all those glam/street vinyl records, in a couple of years they'll be out of fashion, and you won't even remember them anymore." In fact, it did happen. Because this is also the story of a little betrayal: grunge came along and wiped everything away.

I forgot about all of them. But not them. Not the Ratt. I couldn't leave them behind, after all they had given me. For the record: six albums (I’m including the EP here) of extraordinary hard'n'roll. Or ratt'n'roll, as they called it.

"Out of the Cellar" is the first full-length, released in 1984. My older brother had this TDK 90 tape with "Out..." and "Invasion..." recorded on it. I duplicated it and wore it out for entire months. The funny thing is, I don't even own this album in its original form. I’ll have to remedy that, sooner or later.

Ten tracks of a perfect cross between glam/sleaze rock and class metal (for the uninitiated, class is a melodic hard rock, with very clean sounds, slightly heavier than A.O.R.). 

A monstrous riffing, geometric, circular, impeccable. Melodic hooks that rip underwear. Simplicity. That's what Ratt was. "Round and Round" kicks in and you're instantly on Sunset Boulevard, riding a red-hot convertible, the world is yours, and there’s nothing others can do about it. "What goes around comes around".

"In Your Direction" and "Lack of Communication" are pure rhythm, baby, so melodically optimized that you feel like shaking your hips and humming, shaking your hips and humming, forgive me mom, I haven't finished my homework, I want to spend a little more time with Stephen and Warren, they know how to do it, they know.

"Back for More", with that acoustic intro, makes you think "here’s the ballad" but no, the Ratt were always allergic to ballads (atypical in this respect compared to other bands of the genre), and then it starts again, with a damned boogie verse (Aerosmith?) that flows into the usual bastard chorus.

"I'm Insane", entirely written by Crosby (R.I.P.), is a killer fast song, a worthy prelude to "Scene of the Crime", the closing episode: one of the best tracks in their entire discography. Pearcy invites you into his room with a wink, Blotzer and Croucier pump like crazy, all leading you to the crossed solo by De Martini and Crosby, who duel to see who has the longer one... damn, if I close my eyes I still see myself there with them, with my shiny hair guitar.

So. I’m not interested in insults, nor in raspberry noises. I don't care about those who say this is a senseless genre of music. This is great rock'n'roll, and if anyone thinks otherwise, they can just fuck off.