An open letter to Def Leppard

I stood by you when Joe Elliott wore purple sunglasses on VH1. I stood by while Phil Collen stopped buttoning more than one button on his shirt. I stood by during the embarrassing cover of “No Matter What” and during “Let’s Get Rocked.”

But not this time.

“We’re returning to our ‘High And Dry’/ ‘Pyromania’ roots,” you said. “We’re working with Mutt Lang again,” you said. You had me at “High And Dry” but scared me at “Mutt” — aka Mr. Shania Twain.

Even though I was skeptical, I couldn’t prepare myself for the aural offense I’d be victim to when I heard the first single off your new album on the radio a few weeks ago. The first voice I heard was of Tim McGraw, and I almost threw up. If I wasn’t in shock, I probably would have been cleaning vomit out of my truck in the Burger King parking lot in Plains. Seriously. The song — I’m not going to even mention the title of it or the album because I hate you guys now — is actually decent. And that makes the pathetic inclusion of a country singer worse.

(Note: I am not bashing country. Relax. My point is Def Leppard was a proud metal-ish band, a hair band to some, but still, a rock band. Now the band has decided to sell out, if it’s possible for a band like Def Lep to sell out any further.)

So let’s get this straight, Def Leppard: You don’t care about the kid who couldn’t wait for his brother to visit because he’d bring an old-school tape player and Def Lep tapes. You don’t care about the kid who begged his mom to drive him to Gallery Of Sound the day “Hysteria” came out. You don’t care about the same kid who is now an adult but still loves (most of) your music. I guess the idea is to screw all of us and aim for the “American Idol”/ “Don’t Forget The Lyrics”/ “Girlicious” crowd. Fair enough. But those fans won’t stick with you.

In a few years when I see a fat, bald Joe Elliott singing a rap version of “Bringin’ On The Heartbreak” with P. Diddy on the Ellen DeGeneres show surrounded by soccer moms, I won’t feel betrayed. I’ll laugh in your face. Jerks.