Just Push Play (2001)
1.Beyond Beautiful
2.Just Push Play
3.Jaded
4.Fly Away From Here
5.Trip Hoppin'
6.Sunshine
7.Under My Skin
8.Luv Lies
9.Outta Your Head
10.Drop Dead Gorgeous
11.Light Inside
12.Avant Garden
Aerosmith’s Just Push Play, arriving in the early 2000s, marked a curious entry in the band’s discography—neither a triumphant reinvention nor a mere retread of former glories. By this point, the Boston rockers were well into their fourth decade, and the record shows signs of a band both aware of its legacy and unsure of how to update it for a new millennium.
The album was their most overt embrace of modern production and pop machinery, enlisting outside help in the form of Mark Hudson and Marti Frederiksen. The result was slick, at times disarmingly so. From the opening blast of Beyond Beautiful, it’s clear Aerosmith was chasing something fresher, more textured, more contemporary. The track folds in exotic scales and electronic sheen, but under it all remains the same throaty swagger of Steven Tyler, the wiry crunch of Joe Perry. This was still unmistakably Aerosmith—but glossier, filtered.
Crucially, Just Push Play doesn’t pretend to be Rocks or Toys in the Attic. There’s a maturity here, albeit inconsistent, and an interesting self-awareness. Tyler’s foray into rapped verses on Outta Your Head might, at first glance, seem a contrived attempt to rekindle the Walk This Way crossover moment—but it’s performed with enough gusto and conviction to make it feel more like a personal indulgence than label-mandated trend-chasing.
Ballads, as ever, find a home. Fly Away From Here and Luv Lies avoid the overproduced schmaltz that plagued some of their '90s slow-burners. Instead, they hold a kind of emotional weight that suggests the band has, finally, learned how to play to its softer side without leaning too far into saccharine territory. Luv Lies in particular feels like an overlooked gem—melancholy, melodic, and beautifully restrained.
Yet the album is not without missteps. A handful of tracks, notably Trip Hoppin’ and Avant Garden, flirt with psychedelia and genre-blending but don't always land. They stretch, they meander, and while they're interesting from a sonic standpoint, they never quite coalesce into essential listening. The title track, Just Push Play, barrels forward with stadium-ready bombast, all processed vocals and machine-driven beats. It’s catchy, but perhaps too polished, its soul lost in Pro Tools.
Still, it would be a mistake to dismiss Just Push Play entirely. If the album lacks the raw bite of their '70s output or the commercial sheen of Pump, it compensates with moments of genuine creativity and a willingness to evolve. Aerosmith hadn’t sounded this energized—this willing to risk alienation—in years.
It didn’t set the charts ablaze the way its predecessors did, and it rarely figures into conversations about their essential albums, but Just Push Play deserves reassessment. It’s a document of a veteran band experimenting within their own legacy, flirting with reinvention, and occasionally—just occasionally—striking gold.