The cold Irish wind is breaking against my bearded face as I watch the natives scurry across the square surrounding Dublin's Wetbury Hotel in search of last minute Christmas bargains. Compast cars skid around the tight corner in front of the hotel, and I scan each as it passes, looking for my ride. It's late, but that's cool; I've got nothing else to do on this particular winter's eve. All at once four teenagers appear and lurch in my direction. They're noticeably intoxicated (as most young ones in the neighborhood are, after dark), and their red-headed leader approaches me. Within seconds he's inches from my face, staring me right in the eye. Do I know this guy? Not! Impossible. Thinking he's either gonna rob me or hug me (the Irish are very friendly as a whole), I tense up as he points and blurts out for his mates to hear, "John Lennon! As I live and breathe!" With that, he totters into the pub next door, his friends laughing behind him. I grin, wrap my overcoat around me a little tighter, and continue to wait. Twenty minutes later my ride arrives.

"Hey, bud. How ya doin'?" Rick Savage, Def Leppard's blond bassist, shouts from his car window. I hop in and am whisked away for the beginning of my short, but important adventure: to get adrenalized in Dublin with Leppard. Now, with no further colorful alliteration, let's get rocked....

"The last tour took 15 months," remembers Rick (or Sav, as he's known to his friends), as we eat dessert in the basement of Joe Elliott's palatial home/studio in the hills outside Dublin. Karla Elliott's dinner was scrumptious, but turns out to be nothing more than an appetizer in a session that includes a preview of the band's new record and a frank and intense conversation with Lep's enigmatic bassist and vocalist-their first meeting with the rock press after almost three years of silence. "Within the making of this record, three members of the band have gotten married, and Phil's got a son that's two years old now. You look around and think, Jesus, life kinda goes on, but you feel you're trapped in a time warp. I still feel as though I should be about 23 years old instead of 31, because I've spent most of my time in a recording studio, not really living, just existing for the project we're doing. I mean, since 1984, eight years, we've either been on tour or in a recording studio."

Contrary to the tone of his remarks, Sav is not bitter, just a bit tired. "We wish we could do it quicker but, at the same time, we don't get any fun out of doing something in a half measure and getting it out, and then afterwards thinking, Oh we could've done that a lot better."

"We recorded our first album in three weeks, and probably had the best time we'll ever have making a record," recalls Joe Elliott, the statuesque lead singer who, at 32, is the Lep's most seasoned man of opinion and dialogue. Joe tells it like it is. "Ever since we started working with Mutt (producer Mutt Lange), it's been the other way around. It's been hell on Earth. But when the records finished, you listen to it and go, 'F?!k, that's great!' As for Adrenalize, Mutt was going to do the album at one stage, but we didn't want to wait. We took off the entire summer of 1990, as Mutt was supposed to be finishing up Bryan Adams' record. It was scheduled first for May, then it got shifted to August, and we said, 'Okay, we'll wait.' When it was shifted again to September, we decided we had to do it on our own. It's been hard work, but it's been good. Mutt's always been there when we needed him. We phoned him up during recording and played him stuff and said, 'What do you think about such and such?' and he'd give us his opinions. So, consequently, he's getting an honorary executive producer's credit for just being there on the other end of the phone-and for coming over and singing background vocals with us. He was involved in the songwriting too. When we initially brought the riffs together, he chalked some changes in with ours; but he wasn't physically in the studio when we recorded."

Production on Adrenalize was handled by longtime Lep engineer Mike Shipley, who was elevated to producer for this record, and engineer Pete Woodruffe. Schooled in the Leppard way of recording from their experience on Pyromania and Hysteria, Shipley and Woodruffe are the patient, frazzled technical twins who weaved soundboard magic around the band's musical and lyrical vision-a vision of what a Def Leppard record should be that burns clearly in the creative minds of the bandmembers, who feel that with this Lp they can finally silence the critics who believed this band could not make a record without Mutt Lange.

"In the past Mutt stood there, and he would make a decsion, and we would go with it, no questions asked," adds Joe. "But when Mutt's not around, you don't have that great referee. So now, because we've all gotten a bit older and more mature, we don't particularly rock the boat too much. Maybe we've all tried to be a bit more diplomatic, rather than proclaiming our uncertainty about a given thing. Rather than just saying, 'This is f?!ked,' you hang back and see what happens. The members of this band all have had some hard, focused opinions on everything, but when we've disagreed, we've tried to get the blend you see. I know for a fact that Sav could have made this record as producer, and it would've been a good record; and I could've done it, and it would have been good too. You'd need a parallel universe to figure out which would've been better than the other."

"Some people are waiting to hear this record-without Mutt-and hoping that it'll fall on its face," says Sav. "It's not gonna happen. And besides, what the critics say really doesn't concern us anyway. It never has.

"I don't really give a shit about it," adds Joe firmly. "We've never been a critic's band. You know, metal doesn't get the credit it deserves, and it gets twice the f?!king flak it deserves. It's always getting the blame for some kid blowing his head off with a shotgun. Metal's easy to poke fun at. I think we knew it as kids. We'd sit there laughing at Saxon records, because there was something wrong with it, and it made us laugh. We actually made a point of trying to change the shape of metal rock by putting credibility back into the music. Let's be honest about it: if you sell 50 million albums worldwide, you're not just selling to 18 year old bozos, like some people think. They believe the only people who buy rock records are drugged-out little turds. It's not like that. Our audience, or the audience that buys rock records, is not as stupid as some media sources would have you believe. And they reluctantly have to admit, sometimes, that a band like us can make a good record. They're always gonna take a shot at ya. If you're a true metal fan, you just turn around and say, 'F?!k you,' the way metal kids have always done. That's why bands sometimes get an attitude. They need it."

Def Leppard make no pretense that their songs are about anything more, predominantly, than having a good time and singing about life's loves and laments. They've never been political. In fact, they strive to avoid messages in their music. Lep songs make you feel good without making you think too hard. And what's wrong with that, anyway?

"You've just gotta take thing's for what they are," says Sav. "I don't think there's anything specifically wrong with that mindless 'party party party' attitide every now and again. It's a release. We are escapism. It's our goal, with every record, to create an hour or so of head-space for people to go to and relax. That's all it is."

The first single off Adrenalize is an infectious little thumper called "Let's Get Rocked." It's a stunningly good-hearted, dashboard-smashing summer-rock cruncher that, after about the fifth listen, is impossible not to absolutely love. It sings to the core of why every concert-going kid in America prioritizes rock in their youth, canonizes the heroes of the genre and, as Sav says, escapes for some needed head-space. "Let's go all the way/Let's do it night and day/Let's get out and play/Rock the night away/Come on, let's get, let's get, let's get, let's get roooccckkked."

"We stick to what we're doing, because there's so many people out there trying to be serious," says Joe. "How many songs can you sing about the rain forest? We're all aware of it, and we're doing our bit. We made our album sleeve out of recycled paper. To me, that's much more positive than singing a stupid lyric about a Brazilian rain forest, which you can get to rhyme with anything. We're not naive to the fact that, at the end of the day, no matter what your outlet or your message, whether you're De Leppard or Bob Dylan, you're just a f?@king catalog number that somebody's exploited to a point. You just have to make sure that, when it's all said and done, you're stuffing it up them as far as they're trying to stuff it up you. Whether it be preaching politics or non-politics, the thing is, you've been at work or you've been at school all day, and now it's time to lose the shoes, have your tea and turn up the stereo. F?!k the neighbors! It's only rock 'n' roll!"

Adrenalize is stuffed with trademark hooky Leppard tunes that everyone from headbanger to housewives will adore. "Heaven Is," "Make Love Like A Man" and "I Wanna Touch You" get the lower digits tappin', while big blustery ballads like "Have You Ever Needed Someone So Bad" and "Tonight" harken back to "Love Bites" in their swirling vocal and melodic magic. There is one track on the record, though, that stands out from the rest. It is without question one of the heaviest the band's ever recorded, and it stems, in part, from the personal tragedy of Leppard's late guitarist, Steve Clark. "White Lightening" was written for and about the blond axeman who lost his long battle with alcoholism on January 8, 1991.

"Steve obviously had a drinking problem, but he had mental problems too," explains Sav. "His alcoholism was triggered by something nobody could ever tap into, and it went on for years and years. Steve was happy in the environment of touring, when his whole day was planned out for him. He could mentally switch off, eat, sleep, do the gig, go to the next town and do it again. But when it came to the end of the Hysteria tour in October 1988, he just didn't know what to do with himself, because he had to be a normal human being again. Things just got worse and worse from the end of the tour until the day he died. I mean, we went to clinics with him-he must have been in five different clinics during that period. Forget about his importance to the band; to see somebody just going the way he was going was heartbreaking. From the band point of view, he wasn't contributing anything anymore. I don't know if he even wanted to put the effort into doing another record. Phil was playing a lot more guitars on the basic tracks than he was anyway. And Steve was getting less and less interested in being in the studio. One of the last things we did to sort of kick him into shape was to tell him, 'Look, Steve, if you can't get yourself into shape, you're not going to be able to tour.' We made it clear to him that if he didn't get it together, we'd have to find somebody else. We told him to just go away, forget about the band, and just try and sort himself out once and for all."

"We spent much of 1990 trying to help Steve," recalls Joe. "I did two of the hardest things I've ever done in my life for Steve. One was to fly over to Minneapolis, to one fo these dry-out clinics. They had him in this ward where, I swear, The only thing missing was the Indian from One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest. There were deranged people in this ward. I saw Steve, and I can remember saying to myself, You don't belong here, mate. We had to go in this room and write a letter, which we had to read the next day to Steve, telling how we felt about him in 100% honest feelings-you know, about how he was behaving and such. It was very hard, Peter (Mensch) and Cliff (Burnstein) went, Phil went, and Mutt came over too. It was a very emotional time for the lot of us. I think the idea was to guilt trip Steve into reacting in some way-a positive way, I guess-but that didn't happen.

"The second instance was here in Dublin. He was in a hospital, and I had to play a family member for him, because he wouldn't tell his parents he was here. I didn't think it was my place to tell them, either. It's easy to say, now that he's dead, that I should have, but at the time I didn't think that way. So I played family member on his behalf, and it was very difficult sitting opposite him, watching him air his dirty laundry in public. Steve's biggest problem was -and they tell you this is the first giant hurdle in overcoming your alcoholism- you must admit you're an alcoholic. Stand up and say, 'Hi, I'm Steve Clark, and I'm an alcoholic.' If he ever said that in any meeting, he had his fingers crossed behind his back -I'm convinced of that. Right up till the end Steve never believed he had a drinking problem. I wish I could've done more, but I'm not my brother's keeper. When it starts interfering with your own personal and professional life, you have to step back and let him deal with it in his own way. Steve didn't want us acting like his parents.

"He had a lot of demons in his head," laments Sav. "Ever since I met him, for the 15 years that I knew him, he was always abusing himself. It was almost like he had a death wish. His father told him he'd never see 30. He saw 30, but not much more, I'm afraid."

"Steve was always like he was," Joe concurs. "It was the best-kept secret in rock 'n' roll. Perhaps he wasn't always as bad, but he's always been that way. He just deteriorated at the end. The more he drank vodka, the more he would avoid his guitar. His playing deteriorated rapidly towards the end, and he finally became frightened of his instrument."

Contrary to perception, Steve Clark's death did not derail the recording of Adrenalize, it inspired it. Yes, the year prior to his death was a taxing one for all the bandmembers and slowed the process down considerably, but there was no extended period of mourning after his passing. Though loved and missed by the band, Steve's death ignited Def Leppard and removed the Damoclean sword from over their heads. With new focus and the specter of their withering friend removed, Def Leppard went on to finish Adrenalize one year after Steve's early departure from planet rock. Joe remembers a similar situation from years back, but notes a distinction.

"We had to fire guitarist Pete Willis, 'cause he was the same way, though not quite as bad. Still, for the size of the band at the time, it was a traumatic thing. But Steve was a different kettle of fish, in that Pete wasn't a particularly nice person. Steve was. Steve was always a nice guy. That made it really hard to get angry with him. And he was so great onstage. He was white lightening."

"You gotta taste that sweetness/'Cause you can't say no/But are you ready for the nightmare/When you can't let go?"

"'White Lightening' isn't specifically about Steve, but it could be," says Joe. "The thing is, yeah, it's about Steve, bit it's also about Hendrix, Presley, Joplin, Morrison-you name any of them that have gone. Muysically, it's very dark. The lyrics were written two weeks after Steve died. It was a case of letting it sink in and wanting to see it in perspective, and then getting the message across about not only Steve, who died, but about somebody who's on their way out."

"You got both ends burning, like a moth to a flame/You're going after rails, like a runaway train/It's a no-win situation/There's no way out/And no one will ever hear you scream and shout."

"Nobody will ever replace Steve," sighs Sav. "We don't want a carbon copy replacement. We need somebody to come in and be themselves in their own right. One thing's for certain, the beginning of 'Foolin'' will never be the same."

Def Leppard made Adrenalize as a foursome. Only on the final five notes of the LP's last track, "Tear It Down," do you hear Steve Clark's guitar. The rest of the record bears the strains of Phil Collen, who stepped in to perform all the axe-wielding on each and every track. And, contrary to rumors spread by less informed metal publications, Blue Murder guitarist John Sykes is not the new member of Def Leppard, nor was he ever seriously considered for the position.

My night with Sav and Joe passes quickly, as does my entire Irish odyssey. But there are still two more members of Lep, and I want everyone's angle for the story. So, upon returning home to L.A., I track down Phil Collen, the elder statesman of the band at 34, at his West Hollywood apartment and pull out my list of questions.

Phil, Steve's long-time compatriot and one time heavy drinking buddy (he doesn't touch the stuff now), feels a fifth Leppard will be a strange thing to deal with. "I personally don't think we need another guitar player," he says. "I think I can handle the guitars on tour myself. I don't like the idea of replacing Steve, to be quite honest. It's a drag. I know we may have to, because there's millions of guitars on this record, even on Hysteria, but I know we could get around it. It's just something the four of us will have to sit around and vote on. John Sykes did come in and do some background vocals. He helped out, and it was cool. I don't think he's gonna be part of the band though."

Exceedingly proud of his work on Adrenalize, it only stands to reason that Phil would lobby to keep Leppard a foursome. In reality, the live Leppard show calls for a second guitarist. Who that person will be has yet to be determined. At press time, auditions for the second slinger were still being held. It isn't easy, especially for Phil, who performed so closely with Steve for so many years, to envision a tour without him. He, like the rest of the band, misses his friend dearly.

"Steve felt guilty leaving the burden of the guitarwork on this record on me," Phil recalls. "I really didn't see it as a burden, but I'm pretty sure he did. He felt he was burdening all of us. We just wanted him to get better. When I went to that clinic with Joe, Cliff and Peter, they showed us videos of what alcoholism, the disease, was like. I'd never seen anyone as bad off as Steve was then. I watched him retreat from the human race. He was a very shy person anyway. He wouldn't say much, so something really tiny that pissed him off would develop into a huge problem, and the only way out he knew was to have a drink. He was addicted. We all kinda knew he wasn't going to get better. They made us understand that at this clinic he was in. I wasn't really shocked when I got the phone call he'd died. I'd been kind of expecting it, actually. I was kind of expecting it for a couple of years."

A knock on Phil's door interrupts the interview for a moment. It's Rick Allen, the Lep's thunderous skin basher who, on New Year's Eve 1984, lost his left arm in a Sheffield, England, auto accident. Time has healed the wounds to the extent that the image of Rick as he once was is nothing but a vague memory. "I can't even imagine Rick with two arms now," Sav told me in Dublin, "apart from looking at old photographs. I just always imagine him as he is now. He's dealt with it great. He's that kind of character. I certainly don't know if I could've done what he did. But Rick's very single-minded. He's redefined rock drumming."

Rick Allen's accident came to the minds of the masses when Steve Clark died. The headlines were there: Another Tragedy. Millions of Lep fans around the world thought to themselves, Oh, no, what next? Will this band ever get a break? Actually, though, to echo what Sav and Joe said earlier, Rick also believes that Steve's death did more to save Def Leppard than destroy it.

"In an odd sort of way, Steve was responsible for holding the band together," says the 28-year-old Allen, the "baby" of the group. "I always thought, though, that he would pull through. I must say, however, I didn't spend much time with Steve the last couple of years. I don't think it would have been beneficial if I had, because I was going through my own personal problems. I was dabbling in substances, as it were, and I think my presence intimidated him. There was a time when I'd just give up and go drink with him, which wasn't helping anybody. I guess Steve's death gave me a jolt and made me realize that there are a lot better things to do than wind up at the bar every night. It was hard, because the record was taking so long, and there was all this down time, But there's always other stuff to get into. I guess it was kind of a cop-out for me. I'm glad I pulled myself out of it. Looking back, I think maybe I should have said something to Steve, but the reality of the situation was, Steve's problem was there way before he joined the band

Def Leppard may be the most important hard-rock group in the world for the mere fact that their success transcends onto so many levels. They are rooted in metal, but they've crossed over into virtually every format of radio imaginable. Their impact on the hard-rock market back in '88, when Hysteria was flying high, battling fiercely with Guns N' Roses 'Appetite For Destruction' for the top spot on the charts week after week, was unparalleled.

"It goes in cycles," observed Joe in Dublin. "I'm not trying to sound vain or big-headed about it, but every time we put a record out, it seems we sort of lead the charge, and what happens over the next four or five months is, BANG!-everybody else follows through the door. We break it down and make it so loads more hard rock gets on the radio and MTV. I don't know about this time. It seems that Nirvana may be doing that already. I know it happened when Pyromania came out, and it happened again with Hysteria. Let's see if history repeats itself.

As for the present, get ready to be adrenalized, America. This is your twice a decade Def Leppard fix, and you best get your fill. Listen to the record and judge for yourself.

"Some of the songs on Adrenalize sound a bit like Hysteria, some of them a bit like Pyromania, but they all sound like Def Leppard," Joe proclaimed. "And our next album, and the album after that, they'll sound the same. Because that's what we like doing, and that's what we're good at doing. And why are we good at it? Because we like it."

Footnote: Sincere thanks to Howard Paar and Vonette Suderman at Mercury Records; Cliff, Peter and Linda at Q Prime; and mostly to my friend Rick Savage, who (and now it can be told) trusted me with a rough mix cassette of the LP back in December. It was never dubbed and never played for a soul except my wife and my daughter. I hope I've returned that trust with a decent story. ROCK! ROCK!