In the fall of 1980, the FM landscape for pop/rock music in Cincinnati was in a period of flux. The big players were WKRQ (101.9, top 40) and WEBN (102.7, AOR), stations I listened to plenty during my high school years. But there were also entities down the dial hoping to eat into one or both of those stations' ratings. One was WYYS, Yes 95, attempting to make a splash with a couple of $500K giveaways (one to an individual, one to a school). Another was (or would soon be) known as Kiss 96. I'm not sure they could make up their mind as to what they really wanted to me during this period, settling mostly with Top 40 but IIRC also flirting a bit with album rock. I kinda liked them for a while, giving them enough of a shot to win a couple of prizes from them.
One, in September of '81, was a certificate for a free pizza at a place a number of miles north of Cincinnati, too far out of my way to take the trouble to claim. Chester's is still in business, though, and one of these days I absolutely have to make the trip to show (claim?) my 40-plus-year-old winnings, if for no other reason than entertainment purposes.
A year earlier, whatever incarnation the station at that frequency held then ran a contest each weekday morning while I was getting ready for school. They'd recite a few lyrics from a past hit. The first caller to correctly ID the tune came away a winner, after which they'd play the song. Yes, I still remember a few of the lines they read: "Sleep alone and late at night I'm dreamin'/Of the togetherness that seems to be leavin' me;" "The night is long but you are here/ Close at hand;" "Where holiday romance is nothing at all/You wait in the wings like a Saturday flirt;" and "You'll face the aftertaste when you come home late some night." I'm pretty sure it was recognizing that last one that gave me a snippet of airtime just before they spun "Smoke from a Distant Fire." The prize was an LP; I was hoping for something of interest--after all, I'd scored a copy of Christopher Cross from a competitor a few months earlier.
Let's just say I was disappointed when what showed up in the mail several days later was a promo copy of Thunder, a self-titled effort from an aspiring Southern Rock band. It clearly had been sent to the station by Atco, their label, in hopes of receiving airplay and just as clearly, had received a thumbs-down from the director. Maybe I played it once, but maybe I didn't, either--regardless, it was quickly filed away. I never discarded it, though, and it's followed me to Transy, then to Illinois and back. I would think about Thunder every once in a while, wondering if it could possibly be any good.
Last night, I finally satisfied my curiosity.
Thunder wasn't quite as bad as I expected. The production (by Kyle Lehning, who did England Dan & John Ford Coley's hit-producing albums and most of Randy Travis's work) is plenty murky. On one song they sound a little like Alabama, and on another there's a faint whiff of .38 Special. They do mix up tempo, get a bit funky here and there, and "Rock and Roll Wasteland," the closing track, hints at some promise for a future that never came (though there was a second album, apparently). But man, were these guys horny: you don't have to think too deeply to recognize what songs called "Late Last Night," "All Night Long," and "Last Train to Paradise" are about. In a class by itself, however, is "Magazine Love." Puerile doesn't begin to describe the lyrics--you're getting a small taste in the title of this post. At some level I suppose I wasn't disappointed in the trashiness I knew had to be on the way as soon as I saw the song's title.
The band was based in Hendersonville, TN, part of metro Nashville. Not surprisingly, at least a couple of guys continued in the Nashville music scene for a while after Thunder was no longer a going concern. Vocalist John Porter McMeans played some with country-era Dan Seals, and another member, Walker Igleheart, co-wrote a moderate country hit for Gail Davies.
Do I ever need to pop Thunder on my turntable again? I don't think so. Do I regret playing it to begin with? I suppose I'm still thinking on that question. I can't resist sharing "Magazine Love," though. I'll atone with an epic chaser--almost 45 years later, I'm still surprised at the DJ reading off lines from "It's All I Can Do" that bridged two verses and were separated by the chorus.
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