With enough hairspray and cigarette smoke to burn a hole through ozone, rock bands of the 1980s ruled the airwaves; arenas sold out worldwide, MTV ran nonstop, and for a while, rock was undying. A keyboard intro kicked off every album, and a guitar solo ripped through every song; the two instruments became synonymous with the decade, quite literally defining it. Now, you might be wondering, “Who and what is this guy ranting about?” To that, I ask, “Do these songs define the ‘80s for you?” 

Def Leppard: the band that started it all. They made history with “Photograph,” defining MTV and music videos for the next decade. It was unforgettable; the song became almost mythological, and, according to my dad, you could never escape it. Just as quickly as they came, the band disappeared: their drummer, Rick Allen, lost his arm in a car accident and put a momentary halt on Leppard’s reign. For the next four years, people were wondering, “Where the hell is Def Leppard?” as hair metal caught international fire. Then, in 1987, Hysteria took the world by storm; Def Leppard was back like they never left. They sharpened their sound, looks, and energy to create something bands could only envy. With “Pour Some Sugar On Me,” they once again ruled MTV with pure ‘80s magic; Joe Elliott struts with a swagger that oozes through the screen with Steve Clark and Phil Collen ripping their axes with a gnarly tone. Leppard did what MTV dreamed of: turning riffs into rituals and videos into spectacles.

Everyone (literally, everyone) knows that one Bon Jovi song: the one about Tommy, who used to work on the docks. I despise that song so much that I have the world record for “fastest channel switch” whenever I hear the opening keyboard to it. I digress, however, because with Slippery When Wet, Bon Jovi gave us one of the greatest album openers of the decade with “Let It Rock,” followed by the equally punchy “You Give Love A Bad Name.” “Let It Rock” opens with a keyboard solo just written to move the air of a stadium, then it makes way for a gnarly, whammy-filled guitar riff; the chorus comes in like communion, and Richie Sambora rips his way through a solo soaked in ‘80s guitar goodness. 

 Here it is… the weekly John Sykes rant; you simply cannot separate Whitesnake and John Sykes from the vein of ‘80s rock. The song is simply a masterclass in production and technicality; Sykes slides into an air-moving power chord and fills the verse with moves that would make your favorite guitarist blush as David Coverdale howls into the microphone yearning for love in the night. The chorus flows into a bridge with atmospheric synths and Coverdale’s seduction echoing in the mix. A chorus-laden guitar then drips harmonics over a violin-style rhythm as Sykes enters again with a face-melting solo.