Epic. Operatic. Bombastic. Over-the-Top. Bonkers. Those are just a few of the words that recur in reviews and discussions of the work of the late composer, producer, and performer Jim Steinman. Though he’s most well-known as the composer of one of the best-selling albums in history, Meat Loaf’s Bat Out of Hell, Steinman had a career that encompassed rock, film, and musical theater. He wrote classic hits for the likes of Bonnie Tyler, Air Supply, and Barry Manilow, and his work with Meat Loaf plays endlessly on classic rock radio. Steinman died in 2021; today, on what would have been his 75th birthday, we look back at the Wagner, vampires, and velocity of his timeless brand of symphonic rock.
15. “No Matter What” by Boyzone (1998)
Like Andrew Lloyd Webber, Jim Steinman has never been beloved for his subtlety. In 1998, the pair collaborated on the musical Whistle Down the Wind. As a further collaboration that tied in with the musical’s premiere, the popular boy band from Ireland, Boyzone, recorded their version of the track. It went #1 in the U.K. and was the group’s only tune to crack the U.S. Top 40. The gentle ballad is a positively restrained version of Steinman, but the lyrics incorporate his usual swooning romanticism.
14. “Read ’Em and Weep” by Barry Manilow (1983)
Over his long career, Steinman would frequently reconfigure or rewrite old songs or ideas for use by other artists. This song originally appeared on Meat Loaf’s 1981 album Dead Ringer, but Steinman made some alterations for Manilow. Whatever Steinman did, it worked; Manilow took the song to #1 on both the Canadian and U.S. Adult Contemporary Charts. It was also Manilow’s last U.S. Top 40 hit to date.
13. “You Took the Words Right Out of My Mouth (Hot Summer Night)” by Meat Loaf (1977)
When Meat Loaf and Jim Steinman got to work on Bat Out of Hell, they had the odds against them. They’d faced rejection from a number of labels and stinging rebukes from the likes of Clive Davis, who didn’t get Steinman’s orchestral approaches. Nevertheless, when they got their chance to make the record, they made the most of it. The album features several legendary rock talents in key roles: Todd Rundgren produced and played guitar on five tracks; Edgar Winter played sax on three; and Roy Bittan and Max Weinberg of Bruce Springsteen’s E Street Band contributed on keyboards and drums, respectively. The whole album is an ode of sort to teenage love, lust, and motorcycles, and this track typifies that. It was the first single from the album, and didn’t make the Hot 100. However, after two other tracks were hits (just wait), it was re-released and made the U.S. Top 40.
12. “Two Out of Three Ain’t Bad” by Meat Loaf (1977)
Another from Bat Out of Hell, this was Meat Loaf’s biggest single until the next item on the list arrived over 15 years later. Rundgren and Bittan also played on this tune. Though it’s a bit simpler than other Steinman tunes, it’s got his patented subversive wit with lines like, “I want you/I need you/There ain’t no way I’m ever gonna love you/Now don’t be sad cause two out of three ain’t bad.” “Two” spent almost six months in the Hot 100, hitting #11 and selling over a million copies.
11. “I Would Do Anything for Love (But I Won’t Do That)” by Meat Loaf (with Lorraine Crosby) (1993)
Jim Steinman and Meat Loaf worked together on six albums, but it wasn’t until 1993 that they officially “sequelized” Bat Out of Hell with Bat Out of Hell II: Back into Hell. Steinman saw the lyrical territory as a definitive continuation of the themes of that album. Other musicians returned, like Bittan and Rundgren (though this time Steinman produced and Rundgren arranged the background vocals while also performing them on eight tracks). The song is a duet between Meat Loaf and Crosby, credited on the record as “Mrs. Loud.” It plays with many of the same dynamics as the original Bat tracks, including driving piano, defined movements between musical sections, and dueling dynamics (loud/soft/loud). Those sweeping sections that roar up out of almost nowhere have gotten Steinman compared to the German composer Richard Wagner, best known for The Ring Cycle, particularly “Ride of the Valykyries.” The verses of the final two minutes are mostly sung by Crosby.
10. “Good Girls Go to Heaven (Bad Girls Go Everywhere)” by Pandora’s Box (1990)
Another tune recorded by multiple artists, “Good Girls” was first done in 1986 by Japanese artist Megumi Shiina. In the late 1980s, Steinman assembled what was considered a “girl group,” Pandora’s Box, which featured a number of vocalists whom he’d worked with before. They included Ellen Foley (featured on Bat Out of Hell), Holly Sherwood (from the group Fire Inc.), Elaine Caswell (The Dream Engine), Gina Taylor (Musique), Deliria Wilde, and Laura Theodore. Sherwood took the lead on this track, which careens between the frenzied bounce of Steinman’s piano and the guitar of Eddie Martinez. Meat Loaf would record the song again for Bat Out of Hell II: Back into Hell.
9. “Nowhere Fast” by Fire Inc. (1984)
Director Walter Hill’s cult classic film Streets of Fire is identified as “A Rock & Roll Fable” right on the poster. The movie follows singer Ellen Aim (Diane Lane), who is kidnapped by gang leader Raven Shaddock (Willem Dafoe); Aim’s ex, soldier Tom Cody (Michael Paré) leads the effort to rescue her. The soundtrack is suffused with great material, including Dan Hartman’s huge hit, “I Can Dream About You.” Lane visualizes two different Steinman tunes in the film, including opening number “Nowhere Fast.” To record the two songs, Steinman put together a group, Fire Inc., which included a number of his usual suspects (Bittan, Weinberg, Sherwood) and Laurie Sargent, who handled lead vocals.
8. Bonus Pair: “This Corrosion” (1987) and “More” (1990) by The Sisters of Mercy
The English rock band The Sisters of Mercy formed in 1980. Their one constant member has been lead singer Andrew Eldritch, and he’s always resisted the “Gothic” label that has followed the band. Nevertheless, those trappings frequently appear in the band’s music, including two collaborations with Steinman. Steinman produced the Eldritch-written “This Corrosion” from 1987’s Floodland, and he wrote More for 1990’s Vision Thing. The two tunes are a perfect marriage for Steinman’s approach (there is no such thing as “over the top”) and Eldritch’s dark aesthetic. “Corrosion” in particular features a 40-piece choir.
7. “Bat Out of Hell” by Meat Loaf (1976)
The epic title track from the album that sold 40 million copies, “Bat Out of Hell” takes listeners on a journey through streets of terror on the back of a motorcycle that’s destined for a fiery end. You can understand comparisons that the record drew to Springsteen’s “Born to Run,” but Meat Loaf’s ride has a much more fatalistic bent. Whereas Springsteen implores his song’s Wendy to “get out while we’re young,” Meat Loaf expresses the belief that if he “gotta be damned, you know I want to be damned, dancing through the night with you.” You know the crash is coming, but the ride there is exhilarating.
6. “Holding Out for a Hero” by Bonnie Tyler (1984)
The Welsh wailer Gaynor Sullivan is better known by her stage name, Bonnie Tyler. She would put her distinctively smoky voice to many Steinman tracks over the years, but one of the best known is this part of the Footloose soundtrack. Steinman wrote the song with Dean Pitchford (the writer of the Footloose screenplay and co-writer of hit songs like “Fame”) and produced it for the soundtrack. Tyler took the song Top 40 in the U.S. and to #2 in the U.K. That same year, E.G. Daily did a version that was used for the TV series “Cover Up.” It’s since appeared in a number of other films, including Shrek 2.
5. “Making Love Out of Nothing at All” by Air Supply (1983)
Graham Russell of England and Russell Hitchcock of Australia formed Air Supply in 1975. Beginning in 1979, they had a string of hits around the world with songs like “Lost in Love,” “Every Woman in the World,” and “Even the Nights Are Better.” They’ve racked up a number of gold and platinum albums and had 11 Top 40 hits in the U.S. “Making Love Out of Nothing at All” went all the way to #2 in 1983 and sat there for three weeks, denied the top spot by . . . just wait. While the soaring vocals of Hitchcock fit right in with the tune, Steinman brought in Bittan, Weinberg, and guitarslinger Rick Derringer to up the epic quotient.
4. “It’s All Coming Back to Me Now” by Celine Dion (1996)
Determined to top himself with the “most romantic, most passionate” song he was capable of making, Steinman composed “It’s All Coming Back to Me Now” for Pandora’s Box. The composer was inspired by the novel Wuthering Heights and its themes of love surviving death. Elaine Caswell sang the version on the 1990 Pandora’s Box album, Original Sin. A few years later, Celine Dion would cover it for her album Falling Into You. Dion, who often shows the same disdain for subtlety as Steinman, embraced the song’s epic nature and let fly for nearly eight minutes. The tune stayed at #2 for five weeks in the U.S., held back by (regrettably) “Macarena” and (we’ll let this slide) “No Diggity.” The single sold more than two million copies. In 2006, Meat Loaf covered it as a duet with Marion Raven on Bat Out of Hell III: The Monster is Loose.
3. “Tonight Is What It Means to Be Young” by Fire Inc. (1984)
The climactic tune of Streets of Fire, “Tonight Is What It Means to Be Young” was sung by Steinman’s frequent collaborator Holly Sherwood. The song wasn’t released as a single and wasn’t a hit, but it’s an outstanding example of Steinman at the height of his powers. It’s become a beloved cult tune, reappearing in Fire’s low-budget sequel, Road to Hell, and has even been covered by show choirs. It’s also the final song in a very special stage musical, which we’ll address in a bit. The song is quintessential Steinman with its long build, revving engines, and increasingly explosive vocal heroics.
2. “Paradise by the Dashboard Light” by Meat Loaf with Ellen Foley (1976)
Without a doubt, this was late New York Yankees announcer Phil Rizzuto’s finest musical hour. The Hall of Famer makes an immortal appearance in the middle section of the song, giving a play-by-play that mirrors the male protagonist’s attempt to “score.” Meat Loaf sang his part at full tilt, while Ellen Foley provided the alternately encouraging and suspicious female lead (Karla DeVito, who sang with Meat Loaf live on stage for the tour, is seen in the video). The song went Top 40 in the U.S., and then basically never left rock radio. It’s widely regarded as one of the great duets in rock and has certified sales of a million singles. Of course, it’s one of the engines that drove Bat Out of Hell to 40 million copies sold. It’s epic structure and length, Todd Rundgren’s terrific guitar, and the last minute narrative twist make it a stone-cold classic.
1. “Total Eclipse of the Heart” by Bonnie Tyler (1983)
The following is one of this writer’s favorite bits of music trivia: “Total Eclipse of the Heart” was originally written for Steinman’s long-gestating vampire musical. Steinman wanted to do a musical based on the F.W. Murnau silent horror film classic, Nosferatu (itself an unauthorized adaptation of Bram Stoker’s Dracula). For various reasons, that would never come together.
Bonnie Tyler entered the picture in 1981. She’d already had hits like 1977’s “It’s a Heartache,” but she wanted to work with Steinman after seeing Meat Loaf live. The third song that Steinman pitched to her would be “Total Eclipse of the Heart.” Tyler recorded it for her album Faster Than the Speed of Night. Among the musicians were, no surprise, Derringer, Bittan, and Weinberg.
The song was a worldwide smash. The aching ballad hit #1 in the U.K. and the U.S., where it topped the charts for four weeks. Its stay held “Making Love Out of Nothing at All” to #2, but put Steinman in the rarified company of writers (like Lennon/McCartney and Barry Gibb) who got to hold #1 and #2 simultaneously. The single sold more than six million copies. It’s been covered numerous times; in 1995, English singer Nicki French stormed the U.S. charts with her hi-NRG cover, taking it to #2.
Like other Steinman songs, “Total Eclipse of the Heart” has never gone away. It’s stuck around in films, commercials, and on the radio. And though the lyrics could clearly be interpreted as having more than a little to do with vampires, many people dismissed the song’s origin as an urban legend. It seemed like that story would eventually fade, even though it certainly inspired the Dracula musical that’s a running bit in the 2008 comedy Forgetting Sarah Marshall.
Steinman realized a different version of his stage musical dream in 1997. With German writer Michael Kunze, Steinman took part in mounting a vampire musical in Vienna. Tanz der Vampire was adapted from the classic Roman Polanski film The Fearless Vampire Killers, also known as Dance of the Vampires (the musical’s name was the German version of that title). Steinman included a number of his songs, with a German twist, in the production. The closing number was a version of “Tonight Is What It Means to Be Young.” But the mid-point showstopper, the first song of Act II, was “Total Finsternis,” the adapted version of “Total Eclipse of the Heart.”
The musical was a big hit in Europe. An attempt to bring the show to Broadway was botched by too many parties that wanted it to be too many things; the compromised English version closed in January 2003 after fewer than 56 performances. But overseas, the show endured, and through 2020 many productions were mounted across a number of countries. Steinman would fare far better in 2017 when Jim Steinman’s Bat Out of Hell: The Musical launched. The show features most of Steinman and Meat Loaf’s classic tunes; the show has a residency in Las Vegas and is set to tour Europe and Australia through 2023.
Obviously, the music of Jim Steinman isn’t for everyone. Yes, it’s operatic and melodramatic and occasionally the finest type of cheese. But it’s emotional, swooningly romantic, and shot through with the spirit of rock and roll. Though he died last year, Steinman achieved the kind of immortality that eludes all but the most supernatural of talents. The songs broke out of his body and flew away . . . like a bat out of hell . . . and popular music was all the better for it.
In an earlier issue (May/June 2018), I mentioned I would be taking a solo motorcycle trip south along the Mississippi River on my 1974 Triumph Bonneville. Several Post readers wrote asking if they could join me, one of whom was a woman wanting to know whether I was married and if I might like a little company. Apparently, there is nothing like a motorcycle trip to excite the imagination.
I’m pleased to report the trip was a success, though it went nothing like I had planned. When Rod Collester, my friend and a vintage Triumph expert, learned my intentions, he advised me not to ride a 44-year-old motorcycle with an oil leak rivaling the Exxon Valdez halfway across the country. Fortunately, I also own a new Triumph Bonneville that from a hundred yards away looks a lot like my old Triumph Bonneville, which, as we say in Indiana, is close enough for government work, so I rode it instead.
Then two friends, Ned and Mike, heard of my trip and asked if they could come along, and I said yes, even though they ride a Honda and a Harley Davidson. While I never hold someone’s gender, religion, race, national origin, or sexual orientation against them, I have been known to look down my nose at people with so little regard for Triumph motorcycles that they would ride something else. But I swallowed my pride and invited them to join me, provided they refrain from making snide comments about the size of my motorcycle (900cc) compared to theirs (1300 and 1800 ccs). They kept their word for the first hundred miles, and then Ned referred to my bike as a “moped” and Mike laughed so hard he snotted himself.
By some quirk of fate, we left on our trip the same day the tropical cyclone Alberto hit landfall in the Gulf Coast, spawning storms and record rainfall along our intended route. Instead of heading south, we rode northwest 350 miles to Galena, Illinois, where Ulysses S. Grant was living when the Civil War broke out, working as a clerk at his father’s store, a job he despised but took because he was broke. If you ever feel like giving up, it might help to remember that in 1857, Grant pawned his watch to buy Christmas gifts for his family, then 10 years later was a national hero, well on his way to the presidency. (Grant was so virtuous, I can’t help but think that if the motorcycle had been invented then, he would have ridden a Triumph Bonneville.) We spent the night at the DeSoto House Hotel, built in 1855 and named after Hernando De Soto, who was purported to have discovered the Mississippi River on May 8, 1541, much to the surprise of the Native Americans who were already there, many of whom he promptly killed.
In Olney, a storm struck from the northwest, and I prayed it would give birth to a tornado and kill me dead.
The next morning, dodging Alberto’s offspring, we rode south along the Great River Road to Fort Madison, Iowa. If you’ve ever eaten Armour bacon, then in a roundabout way you’ve visited Fort Madison, too, since their processing plant is southwest of town along Highway 61. The scent of meat hangs over the place, a not altogether unpleasant aroma. Every town should be so fortunate to smell like bacon. We stayed the night in a Super 8 motel owned by a man from India who, though unintelligible, was thoroughly helpful. I’m not sure why so many Indians own hotels in America, and I don’t care so long as the rooms are clean and they have a TV channel that shows The Andy Griffith Show and Gunsmoke.
The next day found us in Hannibal, Missouri, the hometown of Mark Twain, which we would never have figured out except for the Mark Twain Hotel, the Mark Twain Restaurant, the Mark Twain Cave, the Mark Twain Antique Shop, the Mark Twain Museum, Mark Twain Avenue, the Mark Twain Boyhood Home, the Mark Twain Memorial Lighthouse, and the Mark Twain Brewing Company, where Mike, against our advice, danced on a table. Continuing southward, we eventually crossed the Mississippi on the Golden Eagle ferry, motored seven pleasant miles across the Brussels peninsula, ferried across the Illinois River, and stayed the night at the Pere Marquette State Park Lodge, built by the Civilian Conservation Corps during the Great Depression. The next time someone tells you the government can’t do anything right, take them to the Pere Marquette State Park Lodge six miles west of Grafton, Illinois, and show them what America did when it had intelligent and visionary leaders.
If on the Judgment Day I am sentenced to hell, I will appeal the verdict by pointing out that I have already been there, on U.S. 50 crossing Illinois from Lebanon to Lawrenceville, an unrelentingly boring stretch of road 119 miles in length that felt like a thousand. In Olney, a storm struck from the northwest, and I prayed it would give birth to a tornado and kill me dead. Alas, I was not so fortunate and entered Indiana at Vincennes, the hometown of my parents and, coincidentally, Ned’s residence while serving as a district superintendent for the United Methodist Church during his years of checkered employment. I asked Ned if he wanted to go off the bypass and ride through town and he said “God, no,” or something to that effect. I could only conclude that when he left Vincennes, he had been asked never to return.
We continued east on U.S. 50 through Amish country down to French Lick, hometown of basketball legend Larry Bird, where we stopped for dinner at the West Baden Hotel and ate grilled cheese sandwiches, the only thing on the menu we could afford. From there, we rode through the countryside to our farmhouse in Young’s Creek, built by my wife’s grandfather, Linus Apple, in 1913 and restored 98 years later by my wife and me before I spent all our money on motorcycles.
The next day found us heading north toward home, a formerly bucolic drive until Indiana’s governor, three governors ago, had the bright idea to turn a perfectly good state highway into an interstate, transforming a two-hour jaunt into a four-hour Sisyphean slog. I rolled into our garage five days and 1,123 miles after our departure and remain, to this day, a jaded and weary man, worn down by the road and my association with two dubious characters. Next year, I am informed, we will tackle the Natchez Trace Parkway through Mississippi, Alabama, and Tennessee. I can hardly wait.
Philip Gulley is a Quaker pastor and author of 22 books, including the Harmony and Hope series featuring Sam Gardner.
This article appears in the November/December 2018 issue of The Saturday Evening Post. Subscribe to the magazine for more art, inspiring stories, fiction, humor, and features from our archives.