The Firm 2: Mean Business

A tour followed the release of The Firm, with the rest of the set filled in with selections from Death Wish II and Paul Rodgers’ solo album. Amazingly enough, less than a year later, they had a second album, some of which developed out of the songs performed on tour. The packaging on Mean Business was even simpler than the first album, a foreshadowing of the whimper with which the band would end.

“Fortune Hunter” comes crashing through the wall with all the subtlety of a runaway pickup truck, a ferocious rhythm and unintelligible lyrics. Jimmy tries to keep up with the solo and fails, then it switches and changes into another, slower song that seems completely unrelated, only to build back into the original tune. “Cadillac” got most of the potshots upon release, a lumbering stink with too much fretless bass and misplaced bowing effects. It’s also much too long. For ‘80s cheese it’s tough to beat “All The King’s Horses”. The keyboards are canned, the chorus probably took two minutes to steal and the declaration “This ivory tower was built on rock, not sand.” You tell ‘em, Paul. “Live In Peace” fades up from that, a remake of a song from the Rodgers solo album. It’s got the piano to keep Bad Company fans happy, an amazing solo that’s one of Page’s best, and an anti-Cold War sentiment that goes completely against the American mindset at the time.

“Tear Down The Walls” has an offbeat riff that’s hard to follow from the start, with only the drums and bass slap to make it at all outstanding. “Dreaming” is apparently bassist Tony Franklin’s first recorded composition, and the other guys rise to fill it in admirably. “Free To Live” is just a stepping stone to the grand finale, the feel-good anthem to end all anthems: “Spirit Of Love”. If this song doesn’t make you raise both your arms and scream along with the chorus, then there’s no help for you.

They did another tour and that was that. Paul Rodgers went on his own and eventually joined Queen, the bass player ended up in Blue Murder, and the drummer did a stint in AC/DC. So are these albums really any good? Nobody else seems to think so. But they go together very well. When the day arrives that Everybody’s Dummy receives the Pulitzer Prize for Why The Firm Is The Most Underrated Band Of The 20th Century, we hope there will be a quote from Jimmy Page himself for the flyleaf, something along the lines of “I was actually in this band, and even I thought we stank.”

The Firm Mean Business (1986)—3½

The Firm 1: The Firm

The band known as The Firm was born from a chance collaboration between Jimmy Page and Paul Rodgers, lead vocalist from Free and Swan Song labelmates Bad Company. The quartet stuck around long enough to record two albums that combine to fill up a 90-minute Maxell tape, the gold standard for so many years. (There’s something to be said about a musical entity whose output can be so neatly contained.) The eponymous debut was the bigger hit, and for good reason.

“Closer” starts with a grungy guitar part—kind of like a backwards Keith Richards riff. There’s even horns blasting through from time to time. Soon enough the vocal kicks in, then we hear the soon-to-be omnipresent fretless bass. (If that sound bugs you, get out now. You will not be able to handle another 85 minutes of it.) Page’s guitar sound is a touch more indicative of his ‘80s style, played through a Telecaster copy with modern effects. “Make Or Break” is stolen from “Rock Steady” from the first Bad Co album. A lot of wah-wah beats the riff into the ground, then the drumbeat keeps going at the end to lead into “Someone To Love”, the worthy second single, complete with fake ending. “Together” doesn’t have much going for it, and was the B-side for the first single, “Radioactive”, which took about ten listens to catch on. The lyrics are pretty average, and the solo doesn’t sound at all like Page. (And for good reason, too—Paul Rodgers says he played it.) But just try to avoid that fade: “RADIO, RADIO, RADIO, RADIOACTIVE.”

Side two presents a gruesome rendition of “You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’”, which wasn’t good for Hall & Oates to do either (and makes about as much sense as the stupid remake of “Stairway To Heaven” that actually charted the following year, but let’s stay on topic). The sneaky “Money Can’t Buy” follows, with a subtle riff from “Hell’s Bells” and weird keyboards that crop up at strange moments, setting us up for the finale. “Satisfaction Guaranteed” is simple but great, the next radio hit FM-wise, and deservedly so. “Midnight Moonlight” is a musical descendent of “Kashmir”, a nine-minute semi-acoustic exploration with extemporaneous lyrics and plenty of fretless bass, female backing vocals, and another meter-ignorant hook. Critics are split as to whether it’s the best or worst thing Jimmy Page had ever done.

Two and a half decades on, both the band and the album called The Firm get unfairly slammed as overindulgent sludge, even by Zeppelin fans who can spell their favorite band’s name correctly. Perhaps it’s a nostalgia thing, but the album still holds up today, and sounds very good in the car with the windows open on the first nice day of spring.

The Firm The Firm (1985)—3½