The lead-up to Bon Jovi’s sixth studio album, These Days, felt like an eternity. It wasn’t but there was a prolonged sense of waiting for it. Back in the 1990’s the Internet was in its infancy and news didn’t travel as quickly as it does today. Therefore, we relied on information from these things called “magazines” and “television”. I was an avid Kerrang reader and Metal Edge, both of which proved to be among the few music magazines still providing in-depth coverage to the music I loved. Bon Jovi had released Cross Road, a Best-Of collection, the previous October with the goal of having These Days in stores the following March. Alas, it wasn’t meant to be. The band hunkered down in November of 1994 and the recording didn’t take off as quickly as they had hoped. When December came, the band did 5 club charity shows and Richie Sambora got married, This small break delayed completion of the record, but come March the album was done, it was mixed in April and the band was on the road playing in countries never visited before. All throughout May and June, the band began to perform select tracks from the record. You would hear about this, but this was before YouTube and MP3’s, so immediate access was impossible. I was getting bootlegs here and there on cassettes (remember those?), imports of CD singles from the UK and Japan but in the end, all I could do was wait.
So what was the big deal? I was in college, not having the best of time and well, I needed great books, albums and films to guide me. I was taking more from this art form than anyone should, but it was the antidote to my troubles. So Tuesday June 27th came and I set my alarm for 8:15am. I got up showered and headed over to Rolling Stones Records in Norridge (about a 12-minute car ride). They opened at 9am, a solid hour before any other music retailer out there and they got my money by default. To people in and around Chicago, Rolling Stones Records was a dream come true. Not only did they have one of the largest and deepest catalogs of music to buy, but they sold bootlegs, imports and at any given day you would find something that would make not just your day or week but month. As I left the store, I discarded the shrink-wrap and placed the disc into my Discman. For the next twelve minutes, I was in ecstasy. “Hey God”, “Something For the Pain” and “This Ain’t A Love Song” all were played before I got home. When I arrive back at mi casa, I went upstairs, put headphones on and let the music take me away. When it was over, I hit play again and listened as I read the lyrics line by line.
I was having an out of body experience. It felt as if every lyric had been plucked from experiences in my life. Death, disillusionment, and heartache were at the core themes of the record, but there was something more going on here than visceral lyrics; Bon Jovi had reached adulthood in the musical world. Never taken seriously when their rocket ship to stardom took off, they had matured with every release and as I grew, they grew. Never once post-Slippery When Wet did they make anything remotely childish, retro or musically gratuitous. These Days was their pinnacle. All the pieces fell into place for them. It’s rare for an album to hit all the marks, let alone from an act no one expected it from. Over time, I am not sure if any album in my collection has been played more. But it’s more than an album that I feel a personal collection to, it’s an astonishing piece of work that transcends genres and musical tastes.
Last year I delved deep into this record in two specific parts and if you wish, I'd suggest checking them out. You can read them here and here.
It's also on antiMusic at this link.
Anthony Kuzminski is a Chicago based writer and Special Features Editor for the antiMusic Network. His daily writings can be read at The Screen Door. He can be contacted at thescreendoor AT gmail DOT com and can be followed on Twitter
