Am I high or is it weird that in 2011 nobody touts the first two Skid Row records as mega-masterpieces? What has undermined lasting renown? Is it that those jams are too heavy for radio listeners and not aggro enough for metal fans? Did major line-up changes doom them to be written off (except for the three enduring singles)? Is it Sebastian Bach’s fault? Is the rest of the band too stubborn and unambitious? Really, has there been a more compelling, awesome, and fearless heavy rock record since? Help me figure this out?

To me, it’s not a problem per se that one-time Skid Row vocalist Sebastian Bach is a huge jackass. One, his all-time top ten singing chops justify extreme arrogance and render decency unnecessary; two, reality TV and morning radio has immunized us all to dunderheads of Bach’s type. So fans are over it, right? Yet it’s still possible that Bach’s exhausting bimbo-ism has quieted the global and unanimous mega-acclaim that Skid Row deserves. How?

Think about it: Is it not Bach-related acrimony among the members of Skid Row that hamstrings their legacy-building? No reunion tours, no massive retrospectives, no anniversary celebrations. No documentaries, no tribute albums, no peer buzz. It’s probably Bach’s spaztardation that makes these things impossible. Click to read more…

For metal fans over the age of 30, there’s little fresh news to be found on VH1′s That Metal Show; the weekly show functions mostly as a clubhouse for “remember when?” type gab with flabby old-timers. (For metal fans under 30, TMS provides a peek back in time to when the term “metal” meant “heavier than Paul McCartney & Wings.”) So I was one of tens of viewers of the TMS season seven finale, in which former Ozzy drummer Carmine Appice (above, big brother of Heaven & Hell skinsman Vinny Appice) shot ropey jets of great and hilarious news all over the sweaty boobs of the dinosaur metal world.

Wow, that’s a clusterfucked metaphor, but ahem the important thing is that the unconvincingly bewigged Appice addressed the status of Blue Murder to TMS host Eddie Trunk, who along with me makes up about half of the post-Whitesnake John Sykes supergroup’s restless, rabid fanbase. But that was only the happiest news, not the weirdest. According to Appice:

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Though a blockbuster success, Whitesnake’s self-titled (or 1987) record doesn’t really cut it for me. The singles tell the story, with four steps back for each forward: “Still of the Night” is a monster jam, but “Here I Go Again” is only slightly too heavy for Journey, while the lameness of “Is This Love” might offend fans of freaking Kenny G. I won’t even listen to “Crying In The Rain” or “Give Me All Your Love” without double-condoms on my ears.

It’s funny cuz my upturned nose at 1987 is inconsistent with my throbbing, veiny worship of the album creators’ next two albums: the Steve Vai-charged Whitesnake record Slip Of The Tongue (from singer David Coverdale and crew) and the debut effort by Blue Murder (from summarily fired Slide It In/1987 guitarist John Sykes). It seems that most Whitesnake fans — lovers of bluesy tales of heartbreak and handjobs — reject the guitar wiz cacophony of Slip and they have a point: At a glance, its guitar work in general resembles an album-length harmonizer demo (See Strapping Young Lad’s “Satan’s Ice Cream Truck”). The point is that, though Slip crushes, I understand why it underachieved.

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