Get Your Wings (1974)
1.Same Old Song and Dance
2.Lord of the Thighs
3.Spaced On
4.Woman of the World
5.S.O.S. (Too Bad)
6.The Train Kept A Rollin'
7.Seasons of Wither
8.Pandora's Box
Aerosmith’s sophomore effort, Get Your Wings, marked the moment the band truly stepped out from behind their influences and found their gritty, libidinous identity. If the first album was a gang of Boston kids trying on their heroes’ leather jackets, this was them swaggering into the room with the collar popped and a cigarette dangling from their lips—absolutely certain of their place in the pantheon of rock ‘n’ roll.
The album opens with the unmistakable Same Old Song and Dance, a quintessential slice of Aerosmith sleaze—boiling over with Joe Perry’s tough riffage and Tyler’s alley-cat vocals snarling over tales of back-alley transactions and shady deals. It’s as if the Stones had grown up behind a pawn shop in New England and decided to shout rather than strut. The horns and groove work in lockstep, lending the track a slick, punchy confidence. Lord of the Thighs, with its slinky, percussive rhythm and rolling piano, walks the line between menace and satire, a strutting ode to street decadence. It is here that the band begins to sharpen the theatricality that would come to define their live performances—a sly, swaggering prowl through the underbelly of their imagined America.
Not every track finds its footing. Spaced, in attempting to sonically manifest a narcotic haze, lurches more than it floats. Its ambitions, though admirable, fall flat. The attempt to channel psychedelia through a blues-metal lens doesn’t quite land; the song feels less like an out-of-body experience and more like a jam session in search of meaning.
The Train Kept A-Rollin’, a Yardbirds/rockabilly chestnut reimagined with both gusto and gimmickry, suffers a mid-track split personality disorder. The faux-live effect, complete with dubbed crowd noise, is more adolescent fantasy than rock theatre—an overreach that distracts from an otherwise spirited performance. It veers dangerously close to parody, a Spinal Tap moment before its time.
But the band regains its footing beautifully on the moody and majestic Seasons of Wither, a ballad that simmers with melancholy and mystery. It’s a revelation—restrained, melodic, and richly atmospheric. Tyler’s vocals, mournful yet commanding, drift over layers of minor-key guitar like falling leaves over wet asphalt. It’s here that the band’s melodic sensibility and rock muscle find their most elegant union.
The album closes with Pandora’s Box, a rollicking, if slightly forgotten, blast of saloon-rock sleaze. It’s a wink, a bow, and a dive back into the gutter—pure Aerosmith in both form and function. Lyrically cheeky and musically tight, it reminds the listener that while Aerosmith had found depth, they hadn’t lost their sense of fun.
Get Your Wings is not perfect—few truly influential albums are. But it stands as a watershed moment in Aerosmith’s evolution, where rawness met purpose, and posturing gave way to personality. It remains a crucial entry in their canon, and in the annals of American rock music.