The array of Monster Ballads CDs (coming soon to a late-night cable television commercial near you) present a fascinating challenge: How to sort the good schlock from the bad? The charm of the metal ballad: hearing bad boys reveal depths of emotion not always apparent in, say, "Cherry Pie" or "Up All Night." For the so-called "hair bands" of the '80s, ballads were a way to fatten the bank account while improving the depth (and quality) of the groupies backstage.

The problem with these "monsters" was indeed their monstrosity. Every band with an over-the-top "power ballad" has a superior one lurking in their back catalogue. Take Night Ranger: "Sister Christian" went so far over the top that the people involved have never fully recovered, yet "Call my Name," an effectively toned-down precursor, cannot be found in Karoake bars.

Most of the tracks on Monster Ballads were huge hits. That’s as much of an indictment of the American public as anything we've done to ourselves in the voting booth. But on my web site, at least, we create an alternate musical universe, a metal meritocracy where "platinum" is sometimes just shiny junk.

This article compulsively reorganizes Monster Ballads based on their true merit. Before we begin our mean-but-sentimental review, let's keep a few criteria in mind:

1. A power ballad is usually about love, but not always (something the Monster Ballads compilers fail to understand). "Ballad" refers to tempo, not subject matter.

2. The bigger the hit, the less likely the ballad was any good.

3. There is an elusive but genuine difference between good and bad schlock. Bad schlock is worthless cheese. Good schlock induces genuine emotion in spite of itself. Bad schlock might evoke some nostalgia, but only because it was your prom song - you'd never wish it on someone else’s high school. What makes "schlock" good? Sometimes it’s the sincerity of the performance, sometimes it’s the undeniable presence of a well-constructed pop song that, like a pizza, gives structure to the cheese. An example of the difference? "Keep on Lovin' You" by REO Speedwagon - good schlock. A passionate and well-crafted song powered by real emotion. "I Can't Fight This Feeling,” also by REO - unbearable, career-ending schlock. Rock piano makes way for candy keyboard, wimpy weak emotions sub in for strong ones, and mindless formula rules the day. Which leads us to our next point...

4. Once a band has a hit "power ballad," the "formula" ballads that follow will be inferior. One of many offenders: Bon Jovi (it's a long way from "I'll be There for You" to "Bed of Roses").

5. Some “bad schlock” does have bizarre entertainment value. Like a bad movie, a bad song can hold a peculiar fascination: this is the "Better Bad Than Boring/’When The Children Cry’ Corollary." But for the purposes of this list, "boring bad" and "tacky fascinating bad" are both undesirable.

6. There are no guilty pleasures. What you like is what you like. Quit apologizing.

7. Open-hearted sincerity is a good thing (the “John Denver Corollary”). John Denver had bigger balls than all the NuMetal bozos put together. Life is short: those who don't express how they really feel, even when it happens to be sappy, are gutless cowards. Power ballads go awry not when they are overly emotional, but when they are phony.

8. Phony power ballads are prosecutable. (Don’t worry, we’ll put them on trial in a moment).

9. Lyrical clichés can be overcome with enough sincerity. These guys couldn’t have won poetry contests, but we listen anyway. Exhibit A: Journey. Tell me two songs that evoke more emotion than "Don't Stop Believin'" and "Faithfully." "Streetlights, people," and it still works. That this is inexplicable doesn't make it any less true.

10. Just because a song is about love doesn’t mean it’s a power ballad. The creators of this compilation do not grasp this, thus there are songs on these collections (e.g. Winger’s “Headin’ for a Heartbreak,”) that are not power ballads, but bland rockers.

Truly Scary Monster Ballads
These songs may have been hits, but they have no place on a mix of songs that are actually any good.

“When the Children Cry” (White Lion) - An abysmal, sanctimonious piece of shit, "When the Children Cry" is one of the most vigorously mediocre songs ever recorded. Everyone in metal (including anyone who previously copped to liking metal or owning a metal record) was disgraced by their proximity to this song. I would not be surprised to discover a causal link between "When the Children Cry" and the modern explosion of death metal. "Little child"???

“Don't Close Your Eyes” (Kix) - Some aficionados put Kix high on the list of the "unsung" hair bands, but I never thought they were worth the cost of the free clubs they played in. Since Kix had to slog through a lengthy period of groupie-free obscurity, you can't hold their Top Forty ballad against them, but "Don't Close Your Eyes" was, to me, the essence of the mundanity that is Kix. There are a lot of tacky power ballads, but it's a real trick to do a boring one. Kix nailed it.

“Honestly” (Stryper) - An argument for dishonesty.

“Love of a Lifetime” (Firehouse) - Makes me want to break up with someone.

“Carrie” (Europe) - As strong a case for tougher immigration laws as you’ll find.

“Sometimes She Cries” (Warrant) - Warrant was the worst-of-the-biggest hair bands. "Heaven" was charming hyperbole that reminds some of us of prom night, but "Sometimes She Cries" recalls the next-day hangover with a bellhop rapping on the door.

“Can’t Fight This Feeling” (REO Speedwagon) - Viral, malevolent.

“This Could be The Night” (Loverboy) - You lost me at “Ask any girl in this lonely world.” I’m not sure this song is a power ballad, it seems battery-operated. I’m not even sure it was ever released. I never thought I’d say this, but this is below the standard I have set for Loverboy.

“Only Time Will Tell” (Nelson) - Nelson took the keyboards from REO after “I Can’t Fight This Feeling” and wrote this uneventful (but far from modest) song. The mystery here is not why Nelson recorded this - Nelson’s brief career was full of head scratchers - the mystery is how it ended up on a compilation of songs that were supposed to be good. Nelson had a better ballad than this one, but it must not have been that great because I can’t remember it.

“Price of Love” (Bad English) - You can’t really say “buyer beware” about a song by a band that called itself Bad English. This “supergroup” laid a lot of superturds.

“When I’m With You” (Sheriff) - OK, no "under arrest" jokes.

"Fly High Michelle" (Enuff Z' Nuff) - Just because a song is original doesn't make it good. Enuff Z'Nuff were different, but in a generic way, like when McDonald's adds a "Heinz 57 Burger" to the menu "for a limited time." And Z'Nuff's time was pretty limited.

"Angel Song" (Great White) - Can a song be haunting and not be good? I wanted to call this one "Five Minutes of Hell" but that's unfair. We'll go with "Five Minutes of Purgatory." Great White struggled mightily with the power ballad, but then they struggled with many aspects of artistic accomplishment. When your best song is a cover song, that's not a good sign. It's hard to even write about Great White after the fire. Let's move on.

"I'll See You In My Dreams" (Giant) - Would it be a cheap shot to say "Giant comes up small again?" Oh, and who the fuck is Giant? I've got this theory on Monster Ballads: I figure they pay a buttload for a handful of signature tracks and buy the rest for pennies. I'd be surprised if the rights to "I'll See You in My Dreams" cost more than a Chalupa.

"More Than Words Can Say" (Alias) - Alias called this song "More Than Words Can Say" because they knew what they were writing about was beyond their reach.

"If You Needed Somebody" (Bad Company) - When bands that grew up on the nipple of Bad Company’s old records starting cashing out, Bad Company headed into the music lab with everything to prove. They came out with all the vigor of New Kids on the Block and none of the moves. "If You Needed Somebody" was a big hit, just like "You Light Up My Life" rocked the charts in the '70s.

“When I Look Into Your Eyes” (Firehouse) - Only a band called Firehouse could record something this watered down.

"When I See You Smile" (Bad English) - More memorable than the other Bad English song I've already forgotten (even though I just listened to it), but memorable in a fingernail/chalkboard kind of way. I guess the girl John Waite sings about in this song doesn’t hold a candle to the girl he sings about in "Missing You." She sure got an inferior song. I'd be a little insulted.

“High Enough” (Damn Yankees) - This song flirted with being a good song but was not able to consummate. Any day now, I expect to open a paper and read about how The Nuge hunted down his ex-bandmates and mounted them on the wall. Ted's trip from “Stranglehold” to “High Enough” was a strange and terrible journey indeed. The best in this category, if that's a compliment.

Acceptable Schlock
Some call these “Guilty Pleasures,” but since that term is banished here, we’ll use “Acceptable Schlock.” These songs can’t be defended on their own merits, but for ‘80s kids, they evoke irrational emotions about a cute girl (or boy) we bummed a smoke from in a back hallway just a wrinkle in time from here. We can make fun of these songs, but nobody else gets to.

“Heaven” (Warrant) - “No matter what your friends might say, we’ll find our way - yeah!” If it doesn’t get to you, you’re not holding your date close enough.

“Miles Away” (Winger) - Kip Winger knew what is was like to be broken up with. Instead of going for dopey devotion, "Miles Away" strikes a deal with bitterness. “I’m so tired of being alone, with only your promises.”

“Love is on the Way” (Saigon Kick) - Make fun of this song all you want. Laugh at the helium-aided vocal harmonies. Then watch yourself play it again and again. Unlike “Miles Away,” this one doesn’t score real high on the sincerity meter. Sounds more like sensitivity for the sake of seduction. I guess it worked.

“I Won’t Forget You” (Poison) - Poison was actually pretty good at the power ballad. “I Won’t Forget You” is a little slow on the uptake, but on the flip side, we can appreciate its comparative subtlety. In baseball terms, this one’s a single.

“Something to Believe In” (Poison) - Maudlin sentiments abound. Even Billy Joel’s “Goodnight Saigon” and Charlie Daniel’s “Still in Saigon” had more insightful takes on Vietnam. But here we are with the sincerity factor. I don’t know if any part of this song is true, but Bret sings like it was oh-so-real to him.

"Is This Love" (Whitesnake) - A surprisingly subtle entry from the masters of bluesy bombast, "Is This Love" defies the category by sounding, of all things, pensive. I never found a reason to like this song, but if it's indistinct, it's also far from terrible.

"Forever" (Kiss) - I almost put this song in the "just plain good" category, but then a voice spoke up in my head, saying "Jon, this song couldn't hold 'Beth's jock."

"Fly to The Angels" (Slaughter) - I wanted to say something like "not cleared for landing," but at the last minute, I waved this oversized craft in. "Fly to the Angels" isn't on anyone's desert island mix, but it sure beats whatever Mike Reno and Giant and Sheriff had to offer. For such a tough name, Slaughter were pretty nice boys, weren't they?

"I'll Never Let You Go (Angel Eyes)" (Steelheart) - One hit wonders Steelheart nab the honor of "most over the top" with the definitive "never.....let you gooooooo!" love shriek. Not including this song in a power ballad collection is like not inviting Meatloaf and M.C. Hammer to a VH-1 party.

Good, But Not a Power Ballad

“Amanda” (Boston) - This song came out in the ‘80s, but had more of a musical connection to superior Boston tunes of the ‘70s. “Amanda” is still a decent song that scores fairly high on the sincerity meter. The ballad part is here, but the power is not. If you played this at your wedding, I would come, but I’d bring some better songs with me.

"Eyes Without a Face" (Billy Idol) - "Eyes Without a Face" turns on you. The first ten times, it sounds really cool, then you realize it's a song about nothing, sung by a bimbo who recorded the first punk Kasey Kasem didn’t feel threatened by. I give it some points for innovative song structure, but a power ballad it's not.

"Silent Lucidity" (Queensryche) - Critics of this song dismiss it as a "Pink Floyd ripoff." But there is a difference between derivative music and bad music. Queensryche did flirt with fussy over-production, but you don't mock bands for pushing the limits of a pop song. Call "Silent Lucidity" what you want, at least it's not from the "Jenny from the Block" song factory. Queensryche had one of the strangest careers in rock - tedious periods of intelligent mediocrity sandwiching one of the greatest metal albums of all time (Operation Mindcrime). "Silent Lucidity" came off of Empire, their decent-but-overrated follow-up to Mindcrime. It's fair to call "Silent Lucidity" a classic, but no way is it a power ballad.

Bad And Not a Power Ballad

“Headin’ for a Heartbreak” (Winger) - Headin’ for deletion on my hard drive.

“Almost Paradise” (Mike Reno and Ann Wilson) - OK, so it’s hard to blame Loverboy’s Mike Reno for linking his flatlining career to Ann Wilson of Heart. As for Ann, "Almost Paradise" lands her a place on the “What was she thinking” Women in Rock list. While I was spell-checking this piece, I found a web site that made an astonishing claim about this collaboration: “…Ann Wilson was the lead singer of another band of no less stature.” Mike Reno may have made a pass at Ann Wilson, I don’t know, but at no point did Loverboy ever come close to making a pass at Heart. A web site that uses the words “Loverboy” and “stature” in the same paragraph should be shut down. Oh, and this is not a power ballad. I don't know what it is. Lionel Richie would.

Campfire Songs

“To Be With You” (Mr. Big) - I never liked Mr. Big but have no problem if you do. Doesn’t matter - "To Be With You" is still not a power ballad; it's a hair band campfire song.

“More Than Words” (Extreme) - I used to like this song but something happened. Maybe I’ve been heard it at too many wedding receptions. I may not care for it, but unlike most of the Monster Ballads, there is the whiff of a classic here. Another campfire song.

Noble Creative Failures

“Wind of Change” (Scorpions) - It's hard to mock such a genuine moment in time, what with Klaus Whistling for World Peace, so "Wind of Change" gets its own special category. The '80s era Scorps were good at a lot of things, but they weren't too good at the power ballad. "Still Loving You" was pretty soggy. If you go deeper into the vinyl, you'll hear other extra-terrestrial ideas like "Lady Starlight." I'm sure if you lived in Germany and saw the Scorps play "Wind of Change" at the wall, it would mean something. But when you step back from the events that gave this song a hall pass, there's something god-awful dopey about it. Perhaps we’re just not as weepy about the global triumph of capitalism as we used to be. Maybe we need a few less sweatshops, a little more job security, and a little less of Klause's whistling. Actually, I guess we got that last wish.

Flat-Out Good (and Included)
These are the truly good ballads that appear on the Monster Ballad compilations. There are not many of them.

“The Ballad of Jayne” (L.A. Guns) - L.A. Guns had a knack for the power ballad, but had the sense to keep them to a minimum. The uncompiled “It’s Over Now” is even better, but “The Ballad of Jayne” is a downright pretty song that doesn’t go over the top of anything. The result is a tune that draws us in instead of forcing itself upon us.

“Don’t Know What You’ve Got (Till It’s Gone)” (Cinderella) - The most underrated of the big hair bands, Cinderella took naturally to the power ballad. "Don't Know What You've Got" is a stellar example of Cinderella's ability to infuse passion into formula. I might have opted for the bitter fruits of "Nobody's Fool," but this song is also worthy.

"I Remember You" (Skid Row) - An inspired addition to the Platinum Edition. I'm not 100 percent sure you can call this a power ballad, but you can call it one of the two best songs on these collections. Sebastian Bach busts the sincerity meter with this tribute to the one that got away. This song almost didn't make it on Skid Row's debut album, an indication that they were too confused to cater to formula; they were simply trying to write a song outside their "Youth Gone Wild" comfort zone. The result was Skid Row's finest moment - that is, until grunge-driven obscurity forced something even more brilliant out of them.

"The Flame" (Cheap Trick) - I want to cry "sellout," but this song refuses to sound bad. Cheap Trick didn't need "The Flame" to justify their well-regarded "punk rock Trojan Horse" career. Listen to this one - tell me you don't have an image of fighting after school, harsh words spoken, car doors slamming, apology by telephone later that night, drifting off to sleep with the phone on your pillow, knowing without a doubt that she (or he) was "the one."

"Love Song" (Tesla) - Somewhere along the line, I stopped caring about this song. I never stopped thinking it was pretty good. The charm of Tesla was that they never seemed like rock stars. They were just the guys in "marijuana alley" behind my high school. Their music didn't challenge middle America, but it never talked down to anyone either. Maybe Tesla was a money grab wrapped in blue collar charisma, but they sure fooled me.

"House of Pain" (Faster Pussycat) - "House of Pain" sneaked past me; I found the winsome harmonica a little campy. But this song means a lot to a lot of people. One of the few "Power Ballads" that wasn't about romantic love, "House of Pain" went after something tougher, trying to convert the bruises of a hard-knock childhood into a pop song. I don't see this as the best of the power ballads, but is there any doubt it's one of the most important?

"Every Rose Has Its Thorn" (Poison) - A jukebox masterpiece. Has some parallels with Bon Jovi's "Wanted Dead or Alive," (not on these CDs): both have a "modern cowboy" live-hard/love-hard bravado, yet they couldn't be more emotionally effective. Don't try to understand it, just respect it. Or try to write a better song (good luck).

So ends my deconstruction of the Monster Ballads collections (note that the actual track listings vary depending on whether you opt for Monster Ballads I, II, or the two-CD Platinum Collection. Our list was taken from all four CDs). The next phase: a companion piece on the best ballads (famous and obscure) that didn’t make the corporate cut, but definitely make mine.