From Circus Magazine, 28FEB83
Given the latest chapter in the fledgling saga of Def Leppard -- the Sheffield, England rockers universally hailed as the boy wonders of heavy metal just two years ago -- vocalist Joe Elliott's video viewing seems appropriate. As he and his mates finish up in the studio and prepare for their third bout in the American hard-rock ring, the singer is catching up on Rocky. "Yeah, we've got Rocky III over here on pirate video," Elliott says, "so I'm watching I and II before I get to that one."
With Pyromania, their third Mercury release, Def Leppard are facing rock's version of the crises chronicled by the big-screen boxing epic. Four years ago, the band was five Northern Englanders, "barely old enough to drink," as Elliott recounts it, preparing to battle rock fashion and their own youthful naiveté to stake an audacious claim to the heavy metal crown.
And battle they did, kicking up a live performance storm with their Sheffield-forged power anthems and riff riots. Going from the pubs of their heavy-drinking industrial hometown to opening slots for Sammy Hagar and AC/DC in little more than a year, Def Leppard flashed across the UK heavy metal skies like a bolt of youthful lightning.
Their first two albums, 1980's On Through the Night and last year's High 'n' Dry -- and the accompanying North American tours -- made the commotion trans-Atlantic. But the major label outings also brought homeland charges of "selling out" to the soft demands of US radio programming without, ironically, making much of an initial dent in this country's playlists.
The Rocky Balboa-like challenges and triumphs of '79 and '80 are past history now. With Pyromania, the group is expected to make its move from contender to champion. If it fails, then the latest development in Leppard's campaign will probably leave a bitter aftertaste.
Even three and a half months after the fact, Joe Elliott is uncomfortable talking about it. Pete Willis, who with Steve Clark charged the twin guitar battery that packed Def Leppard's most vital punch, is out of the band he helped begin.
"I don't want to bore you by saying musical and personal differences were the cause," says Elliott, "because that's the excuse everyone gives. But we were just not happy with Pete." Willis, whose boyish good looks were noticed as often as his super-charged guitar heroics, would seem a central, even indispensable part of Def Leppard. Trying to explain what happened, the plain-speaking Elliott recalls: "We'd just finished the backing tracks and it became more and more obvious that things were just drifting further apart. We weren't happy with Pete, and he probably wasn't happy with us."
Wherever Willis is, a licensed premise is likely close by. While some see Def Leppard's primary achievements as musical ones, at least one rock writer has given them the nod as "the hardiest drinkers I've ever lifted a jar with." Although Elliott doesn't say anything, observers may wonder if alcohol played any part in this change of Def Leppard's spots.
Elliott, along with the remaining Leps -- Clark, bassist Rick Savage and drummer Rick Allen -- quickly repaired the bands front line, and the singer seems relieved to turn to the subject of Leppard's newest member, Phil Collen. "He's 22, blond like Steve, a shit-hot guitarist and he looks good, too.
"He was with a band called Girl: a good group, like a more street-level New York Dolls. We know Phil really well, and when we parted company with Pete, I asked him if he wanted the gig."
As if to explain the iron determination behind such a drastic move by a band he calls a "little-boy dream," the vocalist unabashedly proclaims his goals. "We want to be up with the Zeppelins and the Queens; Bad Company, anybody you want to name: a universal band. In 1980, we were very naive to the music myth. Come last year, we learned a lot; we had to learn it. To stay up there, to get up there, we have to get a grasp of everything around us, all the things that aren't very glamorous about the music biz.
"I gotta say, if we were not from Sheffield we would be completely over the top and be total head-cases, ego-tripping like you'd never imagine."
With all this talk of hard lessons and harder decisions, when Elliott takes up the subject of Pyromania his spirits soar. "It's definitely a progression and an expansion. It has a hell of a lot of songs on it; not just riffs with words over the top, but still hard rock.
"There's quite a lot of mid-tempo material the speed of 'Highway to Hell,' say, or Zeppelin stuff like 'Whole Lotta Love.' It's got tunes, not just riffs with yelling and screaming."
He turns to the example of another band to explain how he hopes the album will effect Def Leppard's future. "What we'd like to do as a band is be like Queen with 'Play the Game,' and how they changed drastically. We'd like to do that but stay in the hard-rock scene without wimping out to pop music like they did. We want to do ballads, be melodic, but keep the guitars really raunchy. Bands like Zeppelin, they never watered down the electric stuff.
"But we're not even five years old as a band," he adds quickly. "We're not 'mellowing out,' and we don't want to, either."
What Def Leppard do want is to play and make records, and they're willing to do what's necessary to clear the boards for the work. "If we weren't making these decisions, which is a bit of a bind, the fact is we'd probably still be back in Sheffield, driving vans or making furniture like we were before." Before getting his hands around the microphone, Elliott piloted a commercial van, while Rick Savage lathed furniture parts.
Def Leppard's time isn't spent in North England anymore. Nowadays they find themselves in the studio and in rehearsal halls. As Pyromania was readied for release, they were preparing to hit the road again in Europe, Great Britain and then the US
"America is definitely important," Elliott asserts, returning to the charges of sell-out. "That's where the money comes from, to pay for the show, to pay for the lights for the European tour. That's how it works. But we're no Journey by any means. We're not that big; it doesn't pay for another yacht or anything."
Not that big, yet PolyGram, the label of this young bunch of rockers, has lofty hopes for the band. Jim Sotet, the company's national rock music promotion manager, is especially impressed with the delayed response to the High 'n' Dry disc. "It's amazing for an LP to stay alive for fifteen months after the initial release, but radio has stayed on this one, particularly in cities with good rock audiences."
Elliott know Def Leppard have been more than lucky. "We've never actually experienced anything traumatic as such." At least they hadn't until bidding good-bye to Willis. Now, no longer "naive to the music business myth," Sheffield's finest, with new guitarist Phil Collen, aspire to set the rock world afire with Pyromania.
Elliott is determined to take the third-round challenge in stride. "You know, everybody in the band had to work hard to get where we are. Even if it was only for nine months, not ten years like some bands. We did our first gig in July of '78, and in August of '79 we had a record contract, and by September we were a touring band. It all came that quickly. That was something that would spin someone's head. When you've had to struggle, then when you actually do get the band going, you can cope with things that aren't glamorous."