Steven Tyler is very good at a lot of things. He’s good at purchasing eccentric scarves. He’s even better at replacing maracas with sugar packets (in “Sweet Emotion”). And he’s supremely wonderful at never, ever, ever shutting his mouth because, well, if it was shut, where would he put his foot?
Two weekends ago, Tyler proudly released his new single, “(It) Feels So Good,” his first endeavor as a solo artist (unless you count making zig-zag patterns with cocaine). He says of the song, “I swear it’s going to be a hit. I can hear it coming out of people’s cars this summer. I’m a fool for melody, man. I’ve got to have melody. I miss it, and there it is.”
Well, good to know, Trouty Mouth. But as a person who doles out nonsensical advice like, “Well, hell-fire save matches, fuck a duck and see what hatches” on American Idol, I’m not sure we should believe you.
“(It) Feels So Good” is not the Run-D.M.C., “Walk This Way”-style comeback Tyler was hoping for. It sounds exactly like 2001’s “Jaded,” (and oddly like a Bon Jovi arena anthem), only with even more prevalent pop beats. The melody is the same, as is the patented Tyler screech. The only part that doesn’t match up are the words.
It’s hard to comprehend how Tyler can write classics like “Dream On,” “Love In An Elevator” and “Rag Doll” — songs that are lyrically creative, verbose and visual — and then churn out this new single. “(It) Feels So Good” is mediocre at best. It sounds like Tyler scribbled it in five minutes while popping Xanax. He said he wrote the song a year ago, so this is an entirely plausible theory.
The first issue with this lackluster piece of pop is just that: it’s pop. Tyler is now a pop star, thanks to American Idol, and the feel of this song reflects that. The second major issue is the completely unnecessary parenthetical. Out of all the songs that use parentheses, never has a song put only one word inside them. Why can’t we just call it “Feels So Good” or even “It Feels So Good”? What do these parentheses mean? I suppose since Tyler stopped abusing drugs, he now abuses punctuation. Alas.
The song is also incredibly disjointed. The chord progressions feel like bumper cars, and the verses are in the past tense, while the chorus is in present tense. Do you love her now, Steven? Did you love her? When did (it) feel so good? If this song was a high school English paper, it would get an “F” for failure to match tenses. Tyler is talking about his relationship like it’s over, but then a minute later, it’s not. Is he in denial? Is he confused? It’s like saying to your friend, “Yeah, I went to the mall today,” and then later sending them a text that says, “(It) feels so good, being at the mall.” Where are you, Steven Tyler? Are you at the mall? Are you in love? Or are you at home brooding over why Joe Perry prefers his hot sauce empire over you? (Speaking of Joe Perry, there’s a man that knows how to go solo properly).
The song does have some redeeming qualities that are unique to Steven Tyler. For example, the bit at the end where he scats nonsense in Franglish: “Ma bonsoir, Excuse moi, Ya ooh la la, It’s doing to me good… yeah, yeah, yeah…” My goodnight, excuse me, ya ooh la la…what?
I don’t know what the hell he’s talking about, but what else is new? He is the only person who can make a sexual innuendo out of “show you how to fax in the mail room honey” and can write an entire song about genitalia without ever saying “penis” (“Pink”). I also enjoy the line “How you do the do” in the chorus – I’m taking bets on when Mountain Dew will use it in a commercial.
If I’m being kind, I’d say this is a valiant comeback effort and probably better executed than his fellow “American Idol” judge J.Lo’s, but I am not being kind. Aerosmith has been one of my favorite bands since I was probably 10 years old, and if this is the fate of their 21st century music, I might annul our civil union.
Joe Perry is skulking around Boston selling hot sauce, making blues-harmonica-rock and acting like a baby because he’s not Steven Tyler, while Tyler is bouncing around L.A. advising rising talent and skulking because he’s off drugs and isn’t Bon Jovi. The two dudes held on for forty years, and this song probably symbolizes their breaking point. Not only is the song bad enough to become a metaphor for a messy break-up, but Perry has probably already deleted Tyler from his iPhone because he’s pissed the song doesn’t sound like anything on Aerosmith’s last studio album, Honkin’ On Bobo.
(It doesn’t) feel so good being a solo artist when you were born and bred in a band. If this is the quality of Tyler’s work as a solo artist, he is seriously deluded in claiming he’s going to be a “hit.”
Dream on, Trouty Mouth. Dream on.
