Billy Squier - Don't Say No (1981)

The early eighties were what I like to call the lucid interval between the fall of disco and the rise of MTV pop, a period where rock was briefly able to reclaim dominance on the charts and on the radio.  The trouble was, rock did so mostly with acts that produced little more than soulless AOR fodder.  The top album of the year was REO Speedwagon's Hi Infidelity (clever title, huh?) and it was also the year of Journey's Escape, both albums personifying what Dave Marsh called the "exploitative cynicism" behind "records perfectly calculated to be inserted into FM radio playlists." 

One rocker that who gave AOR radio listeners more value for their time and record buyers more value for their money was Billy Squier, a journeyman rock musician who was the frontman and main songwriter for the Boston rock band Piper before going solo.  Don't Say No, Squier's second album, is a perfect balance of power pop with traditional heavy rock.  Powered by sharp riffs, electric energy, and driving rhythms, Don't Say No was a badly needed shot in the arm of rock and roll in a time when soulless corporate rock became way too popular. 

Squier sings directly and honestly in a vocal style that recalls Robert Plant, his lyrics primarily aimed at a second party - usually a woman - with a sense of urgency.  "In the Dark," the opening cut,  is a tough rocker that invites a woman to let her guard down enough to offer her trust, while songs like "My Kinda Lover" and "You Know What I Like" show Squier being much less inhibited himself; the music leaps out with great force and the lyrics are as frank as any rocker can be, with a sense of lightheartedness and even a sense of fun.  There are plenty of air-guitar moments on Don't Say No, with all sorts of distortions and angry-sounding chords, particularly on "Lonely Is the Night," a heavy-blues number that smolders through a middle tempo before exploding into ecstasy in the fadeout. 

There's a post-punk sensibility to Don't Say No, eschewing glossy production for a rawer sound, but there are still pop smarts on this record, particularly in the poignant ballad "Nobody Knows" and the radio-friendly "I Need You."  Squier, though, remains firmly planted in rock and roll.  It was this honest approach that made him an early favorite on MTV, his promotional videos showing straightforward performances of his songs; ironically, it was a promotional video - for the single "Rock Me Tonite," from his 1984 album Signs of Life - that (as legend has it) ended his career, when the director wanted him to make a more conceptual video in response to the grand productions of performers like Michael Jackson.  With all that in mind, "The Stroke," Don't Say No's second track, is also the album's most fascinating number.  A rock shuffle disguised as a dance song, "The Stroke" is a satirical view of the moves and the motions musicians have to go to through just to make an honest living.  It's what made Squier so interesting as a rocker in the early 1980s; he had a healthy cynicism, but he was never exploitative with it. 

(This is my last record review for awhile; I need another break.)