AEROSMITH PARTNERS WITH COLORADO LOTTO FOR HILARIOUS METAPHOR
Aerosmith fans can pinpoint the exact moment when the band’s status changed from promising, young maybes to rock heavyweights. It was May 3 ,1976, the day their fourth album and second masterpiece, Rocks, was released. As of that day, Toys In The Attic, the breakthrough predecessor to Rocks, officially was no fluke; in all likelihood, the success of its mega-singles “Sweet Emotion” and “Walk This Way,” like, embiggened the band to follow up with Rocks, a portrait of dangerous men where ambitious boys once stood.
That was Rocks. Uh, almost thirty-five years ago.
Post-Rocks, Aerosmith delivered to their fans a clump of ragged, indifferent albums, until their total shutdown in the ’80s. And if Rocks is where Aerosmith established their musical identity, their blockbuster 1987 comeback album Permanent Vacation commenced the process of crafting a brand identity, and shedding all but their symbolic connections to music. If you can stomach weightless pop music that seems designed to soundtrack a day of shopping and workouts, then you’d consider New Aerosmith’s output occasionally brilliant, if disturbingly corporate.
Okay, I’m blabbing, but the point is that superfans can tolerate anything to unearth the sharp songwriting and B+ performances of even the most charmless, uber-produced Sobersmith records. To everyone else, the toxically over-marketed geriatrics are a gigantic pain in the ass, like an unejectable house guest or a nagging venereal disease. Hey, we’re both right.
Fans and haters can also agree that the men of Aerosmith are Faustian and untiring — even in the immediate aftermath of another near-breakup. Yep, a few weeks after unveiling a similar endeavor with New Mexico, they’ve again pushed intrusive, cross-generational marketing to absurd proportions by partnering with the Colorado Lottery on a series of scratch cards.
I mean, sure, only a jaded, hateful band would agree to help a state government defraud dumbshits who are easily seduced by the promise of chump change (see paragraph six here). But even more awesome is Tyler and co.’s expectation that we’d overlook the lotto ticket’s similarity to the Aerosmith album-/ticket-buying experience, in which hopeful fans exchange money for what probably will turn out to be nothing more than a shiny piece of garbage.
Think you’ll hit the jackpot? Dream on.