Jim Steinman was mostly known for writing Meat Loaf’s biggest hits — three Bat Out of Hell albums, as well as Dead Ringer, and a handful of assorted other tracks scattered across several other recordings. But he was not merely a songwriter.
Steinman wrote anthems. His songs were full of Wagnerian bombast and clever turns of phrase that captured the over-the-top hormonal feelings of adolescence. Underneath that bombast and clever turns of phrase, however, there was something deeper: You don’t merely listen to a Jim Steinman song; you feel every note.
I used to think I was Meat Loaf fan. But after digging deeper into Steinman’s work, I realized it was Steinman who I was a fan of, far more than the vocals of the former Marvin Lee Aday. And his work was everywhere: Air Supply’s “Making Love Out of Nothing At All,” Celine Dion’s “It’s All Coming Back to Me Now,” Barry Manilow’s “Read ‘Em and Weep,” Bonnie Tyler’s “Total Eclipse of the Heart” and “Holdin’ Out for a Hero,” a couple of songs for the Streets of Fire soundtrack (“Tonight is What It Means to Be Young” and “Nowhere Fast”), not to mention a stellar solo album in his own right (1981’s Bad For Good), co-writing two musicals (Whistle Down the Wind with Andrew Lloyd Weber, and Tanz Der Vampire with Michael Künze). He also turned Meat Loaf’s first Bat Out of Hell album into a musical, and produced a few songs by Sisters of Mercy.
Tanz der Vampire became a true statement of the transcendence of Steinman’s music. Based on The Vampire Hunters, a mid-’60s project which featured Roman Polanski as an actor rather than director, Tanz der Vampire focused much more on the horror of the tale rather than the humor of the comedic film. Along the way, this gothic musical masterpiece became a showcase for the spirit of Steinman through dance.
I know very little German (and perhaps what little I know is thanks to Wayne Newton: “Danke Schoen” for the language lesson!), but it doesn’t matter. Even when recycling much of Jim Steinman’s music and setting it to Herr Künze’s German lyrics, the songs are instantly recognizable to fans. Tanz der Vampire transcends language. Indeed, the German adds a certain level of power to the performances, even if one can’t understand the lyrics.
With the recent passing of Jim Steinman, we’re not merely saying goodbye to a songwriter. We’re bidding adieu to a man who wrote songs that made men feel that it was OK to have the feelings the world was telling us to suppress. We’re saying farewell to the man who wrote songs that became part of the soundtracks of our lives — music that begged and screamed to be cranked beyond 11.
Safe travels, Mr. Steinman. Thank you for the music, thank you for the clever lyrics and thank you for showing the world what feelings sound like when we let ourselves experience them at their loudest.
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