Def Leppard "Pyromania" [1983]

Congratulations if you were seeking the very moment when "rock" ceased to rock. Obsessive-compulsive control freak Mutt Lange spoils what fun might have eventually been wrung out of these two-dimensional hair-metal stretched-out Budweiser jingles. The plastic emptiness of "Pyromania" -- from Lange's insistence these blue-collar nobodies from somewhere in England nobody cares about imitate Angus Young solos to the multi-tracking of chorus vocals so exorbitant they'd make Freddie Mercury give them the finger -- represents perhaps the signature moment in 80s popular music, more than anything by Madonna, Milli Vanilli or Culture Club: everything here is paint-by-numbers rock, with nothing outside the lines or the least bit interesting. About as dangerous as a neutered pit bull on a two-foot leash or a 40-something Alice Cooper on a three-foot leash, Def Leppard clearly and indefatigably sold out every Led Zep conceit they might have had to major label ass-hats who knew feckless Americans would be idiot enough to gobble this stuff up in droves. Hard to imagine they'd do even worse (and sell even more) with their follow-up a few years later; Lange was obviously properly defeatist and industry-conditioned enough to know a one-armed drummer could play just as well to an audience full of retarded arena rockers.