Aerosmith
– Permanent Vacation
Aerosmith stumbled in, sweaty and swaggering, still smelling like rehab and hair spray. Permanent Vacation is what happens when a band survives its own excess, remembers it’s supposed to be fun, and lets the outside world back into the studio. It’s loud. It’s ridiculous. It’s everything Aerosmith always threatened to be but often forgot how to deliver.
Best of…
This isn’t a reinvention. It’s a recalibration. With some slick help from song doctors and major-label voodoo, they found their footing somewhere between barroom brawl and MTV polish. The horns blare, the riffs strut, and Steven Tyler finally sounds like he’s having a blast rather than barely hanging on. There’s a cartoonish confidence to it, but it works—mostly because the band treats it like a party, not a sermon.
But it’s not just party tricks and shiny choruses. Buried under the glitz is a band pushing against its own rust. Joe Perry’s guitar work is leaner, meaner, and tuned for speed. Tyler’s lyrics—part innuendo, part delirium—stick like gum under the barstool. And the production, for all its gloss, still lets the grit bleed through. This is Aerosmith dragging themselves back from the edge, wearing sunglasses indoors, cracking dirty jokes, and somehow making it sound like a victory lap.
Choice Tracks
Dude (Looks Like a Lady)
A hook so catchy it borders on weaponized. It’s absurd, campy, maybe even problematic—but it doesn’t care, and neither does the band. That chorus is pure rocket fuel. Joe Perry’s licks cut like eyeliner under stage lights.
Angel
Tyler belts it like he’s trying to seduce the moon. Schmaltzy? Sure. But it earns every second. The band leans into the power ballad format with zero shame and a whole lot of conviction.
Rag Doll
A swampy, sax-heavy groove that walks like it owns the street. It’s sleaze with rhythm, strut with soul. And Tyler? He’s yelping like a man who’s had too much sugar and not enough sleep. The horns don’t just fill space—they drive the damn car.
Permanent Vacation is Aerosmith’s glam-slick comeback: a high-gloss, horn-laced, radio-seducing ride that saves the sleaze and polishes the swagger. It’s wild, shameless, and loud—the sound of a band kicking down its own grave marker.