Track #44 - “Too Much Time On My Hands” by Styx (1981)

From the album Paradise Theatre

Music & lyrics by Tommy Shaw

Performed by:

Tommy Shaw – lead vocals, lead guitar

Dennis DeYoung – keyboards, backing vocals

James Young – rhythm guitar, backing vocals

Chuck Panozzo – bass

John Panozzo – drums

US Billboard Hot 100 - #9

Yeah, I’m sitting on this bar stool

Talking like a damn fool

Got the twelve o’clock news blues

And I’ve given up hope for the afternoon soaps

And a bottle of cold brew

Is it any wonder I’m not crazy?

Is it any wonder I’m sane at all?

Well I’m so tired of losing

I’ve got nothing to do and all day to do it

Well I’d go out cruising, but I’ve no place

To go and all night to get there

Is it any wonder I’m not a criminal

Is it any wonder I’m not in jail

When my kids were little, I would take them on Saturday errands with me. It was a great way to spend quality time with them and give them a taste of what adult weekends were like. Don’t get me wrong; we had fun, too. I’d take them to lunch, and maybe to Petco, or the “free zoo” as we used to call it back then before I had to start checking things off my to-do list. You know the drill: groceries, dry cleaning, the car wash, maybe Home Depot. They loved Home Depot with all the gadgets to gawk at, and the mini trees and lawn ornaments in the outdoor garden section when the weather turned warmer. And you can bet when we were in the car that only the finest music was being played. I am proud to say that I never played The Wiggles or Barney or any of that pre-school music in the car. They’d watch it on TV sometimes, but only because their mom would put it on; I would never subject them to that. Sometimes, and I’m talking once in a blue moon, I would play the Raffi CD for them, the highly successful Armenian children’s folk singer. But only if the mood called for it, and only if their mom handed me the CD on our way out the door. Usually the rule was, in Dad’s car, we played classic and alternative rock. I never played it real loud, and I stayed away from the real hard stuff, like AC/DC or Iron Maiden. They never complained nor did they ever ask for The Wiggles or Barney when they drove with me, so I assumed my attempt at imparting my musical taste on them was successful. In my mind, I was being a good parent, and respecting their intelligence, instead of playing music that sounded like nursery rhymes. One Saturday, all this stellar musical parenting finally crystallized. We were driving along and listening to Babylon’s WBAB and their vast catalog of classic rock, and Van Halen’s “Ice Cream Man” came on. And it’s playing, and I’m probably tapping the steering wheel, and David Lee Roth is singing the raucous, if not suggestive chorus, and from the back seat I hear:

“I’m the ice cream man, stop me when I’m passing by!! I’m the ice cream man, stop me when I’m passing by!!”

There’s no way to explain how hilarious it was to hear two high-pitched little boys’ voices aping David Lee Roth, but I nearly laughed myself right off the road. It was joyous. And they were laughing too. I asked them, “You guys know this song?” And they replied, “Yeah, this is the song about the ice cream man…stop me when I’m passing by!” Well, guys, it’s not really about ice cream, but that’s a conversation for when you’re older. They knew the song…they remembered the words, even Dylan, who couldn’t have been more than three at the time. This music, my music, was making an impression on them. A week or so later, we were once again driving and listening to rock radio, and “Nothin’ But A Good Time” by Poison came on…and again there was singing from the back seat:

 “…get a break from…Same old, Same old!!”

And once again, it was the same response; they knew that song. My older son called it the “Same Old Song”, because him and his brother loved to shout “same old, same old” from the song’s chorus. I was blown away. Not only were they paying attention to the music I was playing, but they liked it. They were singing along with it. And while they thankfully did not know what Van Halen and Poison were singing about, the music itself was clearly making an impression. This continued for months and months. We listened to more Van Halen, the Shrek soundtrack, and then they got a taste of “Crazy Train” by Ozzy and they loved that. (That’s the only Ozzy song I played for them when they were little, I promise.) I introduced them to my favorite 90s bands: Counting Crows, The Cranberries, Oasis, 311; then later Pearl Jam, Stone Temple Pilots, and Soundgarden. It really just spiraled from there. And once they got to middle and high school, they didn’t need me to play this music for them anymore; they just found it on their own. Sure, they would ask me for recommendations or ask me (or their mom or Christine) what they thought of certain bands, but for the most part they listened and made their own judgements. I also did this when I was growing up, but only to a point. There was a time when I wanted to distance myself from my parents when it came to music and just about everything else, but I think things like music and movies have blurred the lines a bit between the generations since things went digital. It took some effort for me to borrow or even sneak my dad’s records when I was a kid; now kids just search Spotify or Apple Music or Google to find the music they want. And let’s be honest; the great artists and bands that were popular when I was younger have endured. They’re icons now, and a lot of them are still touring and playing live. How else could you explain that the first concerts my boys attended with me were Rush and the Dave Matthews Band? That the first show my younger son Dylan attended unaccompanied was Billy Joel? That Dan has seen Tool three times? And Rage Against the Machine? I never saw any of the bands that I would consider “my parents’ music” live. The Beatles? Disbanded in 1970. Led Zeppelin? Yeah, right! Fleetwood Mac or Santana? No way. My parents wouldn’t have dreamed of bringing my brother and I to a concert. I feel it just didn’t work that way back then, at least not that I saw. The fact that I brought my sons to their first concerts feels completely appropriate now; I would not have been caught dead at a show with my parents when I was in high school. We’ll talk more about my first concert next time, but I had to BEG to go alone with my friends when I was fourteen years old and vehemently turn down my dad’s offer to go with us. Today it’s different; the lines are blurred. Back when I was trying to assert my independence in a small way by buying my own albums after seeing bands on MTV though, the last thing I wanted was for my parents to like what I was listening to. Remember how uncool they acted when I told them I liked the Rolling Stones, the band that epitomized rebellion when they were kids? Well, I did my best to avoid that happening again. MTV was the conduit for those efforts. I would find my own bands, buy the records with my allowance, and they would be mine; no more Elton John, Fleetwood Mac or Stevie Wonder for now. I started to have a record collection, and talk more about music at school, forging new friendships and hearing about what my new friends were listening to. It was working out great. So, imagine my horror when my parents started to ask me, “Hey what was that record you had on?”, or worse, began to borrow my records. No!! You guys are blurring the lines! Stay on your side and just let me be cool! But no, they didn’t stay on their side. In fact, there was an album they liked so much, they ended up playing it so frequently that I ended up getting bored of it, and stopped listening altogether. What was the point of playing it on my own stereo if my parents were just going to play it? And then my parents got bored of it as well; what was happening here?  How did my parents wreck this and make me tired of a band I discovered completely on my own, and who I thought was cool? Why did they blur the lines?? In the end, it was all OK. It was fine that we all got bored of Styx. Which was funny, because I think at some point Styx got bored with themselves.

Fraternal twins Chuck and John Panozzo were born in September of 1948, and grew up on the south side of Chicago. They took to music at an early age, with John on drums and Chuck on guitar, playing at weddings and other neighborhood gigs. By the time they were 12, they started playing with their 14-year-old neighbor Dennis DeYoung, a singer who also played the accordion. They landed on the band name The Tradewinds, which stuck until about 1965, when they changed their name to TW4. They remained a trio (DeYoung had by now switched to keyboards), until almost 1970, when they added two members: folk guitarist John Curulewski and rock guitarist James “JY” Young (Chuck Panozzo was now the bassist). The band were signed to Wooden Nickel records in 1972 and they changed their name once again, this time to Styx, after the name of the river that carried souls to the underworld in Greek mythology. At first, Styx combined hard rock with synthesizers, and some of the more theatrical elements of progressive rock, which was gaining popularity on US radio. They recorded four albums for Wooden Nickel records and through good album sales and relentless touring, they built up a fanbase, but did not achieve mainstream success. Singer and keyboardist DeYoung had a flair for dramatic songwriting however, which would become more evident with later releases; he was also becoming a virtuoso on keyboards, and he would employ acoustic piano for the first time on “Lady”, the band’s breakout hit in 1974. “Lady” would shoot to #6 on the Billboard Hot 100 in late 1974, and the album Styx II was certified gold. In 1975, Styx left Wooden Nickel and signed with A&M Records in time for their next album Equinox. So, you might remember this next part from when we talked about “Summer Breeze” and Tommy Shaw. On the eve of the tour to support Equinox, guitarist John Curulewski abruptly exited Styx, which left them short a guitarist, but more importantly, a backup vocalist. If you’ve ever heard “Lady” then you know the high register the song is recorded in and the complex harmonies in the chorus. The band would need someone to not only play guitar adequately but also hit the high notes on “Lady”, their breakout hit that they would be required to play at every show. Remembering Shaw from his time in Chicago band MSFunk, the band called him and quickly hustled him to an audition. As Shaw remembers it, “the guitar never came out of the case.” All that mattered was that he could hit the high notes on “Lady”. Shaw was hired, and for better or worse, ended up being the final component the band needed to achieve mainstream success. I say that because while Shaw is an amazing singer, songwriter and musician, he would also become the foil to the vision Dennis DeYoung had for Styx. Shaw would write many of the band’s deeper cuts, songs that were edgier and more steeped in hard rock, like “Fooling Yourself (The Angry Young Man)”, “Renegade”, and “Blue Collar Man”, while DeYoung’s songs had more flourish, and were grander in scope, using more synthesizer-based arrangements; “Come Sail Away” from 1977’s The Grand Illusion is just one example. This conflict of musical visions would come to a head in 1979, when Styx had a #1 hit with the pop ballad “Babe”, a song written and sung by DeYoung. The record company and DeYoung wanted to release another ballad from the album Cornerstone, “First Time”, but were out voted by Shaw and the rest of the band. Up to that point, Styx had built up a rock fanbase, and two ballads in a row might make it look like they were moving in another direction. It would not become known until years later that DeYoung was actually fired from the band for a brief time following this incident. When he returned, there was a brief reconciliation, but DeYoung and Shaw continued their bickering as DeYoung began to exert more control over the next album. In 1981, Styx would release Paradise Theatre, a concept album about a fictionalized version of Chicago’s own Paradise Theatre, which stood from 1928 to 1956. Shaw was less involved in the songwriting on Paradise Theater as DeYoung conceived the story and most of the songs. “The Best of Times”, written and sung by DeYoung would reach #3 in early 1981, but it was the #9 hit written by Shaw, “Too Much Time on My Hands”, that might be the most memorable. For one thing, it doesn’t quite fit with the concept if you listen to the other songs and consider their themes. It also spawned one of the greatest early videos on MTV; more on that later. And it seemed, just for a few minutes, to take Styx back to their rock roots. There were synthesizers on the song, but it didn’t have the theatrics of the DeYoung songs on Paradise Theatre. The album would end up selling 3 million copies, making it the band’s most successful release to date. It also made DeYoung more determined than ever to take the band in a more dramatic direction, which he did, in the most over-the-top way possible on Styx’s next album. In fact, the concept was so dramatic and so structured that each band member was a character with a name and backstory. The band spent money on sets and dramatic videos, and planned an elaborate tour to support Kilroy Was Here, all in the name of DeYoung’s vision. And ultimately, Kilroy Was Here would get Styx booed off stage, fracture the band and finally make Shaw quit, famously saying years later about his exit, “I just couldn’t write any more songs about robots.” But I am getting ahead of myself; we’ll return to this. First, we need to go back to Long Island in 1981, and that quirky video for “Too Much Time on My Hands”.

MTV had been on the air about a month or so when I stumbled on it one afternoon after school. The 24-hour music video channel that would revolutionize the industry and become a beacon for my generation, launched on August 1st, 1981. When I found it, by accident, it was probably late September; I had just begun sixth grade, and while I was still a couple of years from my angsty teens, I was definitely trying to figure out my identity and still adjusting to suburban life on Long Island. My parents had just installed a cable box in our house, which sat on top of the TV in the living room. We suddenly went from having 12 channels to about 50, which at the time included MSG and SportsChannel so we could watch the Islanders, Rangers and Knicks (the Mets and Yankees were still on local NY television at the time); premium movie network Showtime (yes, that Showtime), where I would watch the original Star Wars, 9 to 5, and The Incredible Shrinking Woman about 50 times each that first year; and MTV, which was probably thrown in as an afterthought. Cable TV was in its infancy back then, but with the cable box came a clearer picture and more viewing options; there was no remote control though. You had to spin the channel dial, make your pick and sit your ass back down, so you better get it right the first time. So, one day after school, I was spinning said channel dial, trying to find something to occupy my time before homework and dinner. I landed on channel 25 and heard music; it sounded like the song was winding down, and I could see musicians playing or maybe pretending to play. What was this? Maybe an afternoon talk show, with a musical guest? My curiosity got the best of me, so I left it on, and settled back on the couch. The next song started, and there was a guy dressed in what looked like tuxedo without the jacket; he was even wearing a red boutonnière on his lapel. He was playing the intro to the song on an electronic keyboard. The drums came in, and the drummer was wearing a boat captain outfit, with shorts (?) I got a look at the rest of the band; tall guy in white, playing guitar, and shorter guy in a blue jumpsuit, also playing guitar, and another guy in the back wearing a bowtie, also on guitar, probably a bass. Then the stage scene jumped to a crowded bar, with people smoking, drinking, playing pool, chatting; it looked like the guys in the band were at the bar. It looked exactly like a TV show, but you couldn’t hear any talking, just the song playing on top of all this bar activity. Then it would flash back to the band onstage, playing the song, then back to the bar; you get the picture. And these guys looked like they were clearly enjoying themselves, hamming it up in the bar scenes and onstage. I would quickly learn they were lip-syncing the song; it sounded way too good, and I didn’t hear an audience. What was I watching, exactly? And the actual song was great! By the end, I had decided it was better than good; I really liked it. It was catchy, and the words were easy to understand, and some of the words matched what the guys in the band were doing in the bar; the guitar player could be seen waving away a huge wad of money as he sings, “I got dozens of friends and the fun never ends, that is, as long as I’m buying…” This was cool…they were acting out the song. I loved it almost instantly. It made me want to start a band so I could be on TV, singing and playing a character and acting out my song. Plus, who was this band? At the end of the video, the band name and song and album all appeared on the bottom of the screen. Styx, “Too Much Time on My Hands”, Paradise Theatre. I had heard Styx on the radio, but of course, did not know what they looked like. In fact, I had heard more Styx on the radio than I realized. At that time, they were very popular on FM radio; the first single from this album, “The Best of Times” was in heavy rotation that year on WBAB, so I heard it a lot. That song though is sung by Dennis DeYoung, the guy in the half tuxedo; the song I had just seen was sung by Tommy Shaw, the guy in the blue jumpsuit. It took MTV for me to put it all together. I couldn’t tell you what other videos I saw that day, but I know I left MTV on for most of the afternoon. And I learned it was called “MTV” the way most people learned it was MTV back then; the stylized rocket launch at the top of each hour, followed by the animated astronaut planting the MTV flag on the moon, and the DJ, or “VJ” announcing what videos would be played that hour. I found MTV. My adolescent and teenage years (and most of my young adult life) would never be the same. But the real trouble started when I went out and bought that Styx album with my allowance and started to play it all the time.

 Within a few weeks of seeing the video for “Too Much Time on My Hands” I bought the Paradise Theatre album. Looking back, it felt like a big deal at the time; a band I found on my own and liked them enough to go make a purchase. Plus, and this is an even bigger deal: I bought that record because I saw the Styx video and because it made me feel more connected to the band than if I had just heard them on the radio. I can’t overstate this because this is exactly what MTV did for decades...help bands sell records and make them superstars (even the bad ones!) When I played Paradise Theatre, and later when I bought and played albums like Freeze Frame by the J Geils Band, or Shake It Up by the Cars, or Get Lucky by Loverboy, I was picturing the videos in my head when the music was playing. I bought those albums and countless others during the first year MTV was on because of the videos; it’s as simple as that. But let’s get back to Styx and Paradise Theatre for now. Paradise Theatre plays like a movie soundtrack to me. Dennis DeYoung intended it to be heard that way. But to 11-year-old ears not quite sophisticated enough to grasp his concept, it was grand and dramatic, and the music forced me to pay attention, even if I didn’t know what the story was about. So, I read along with the lyrics and loved all the keyboards and vocal harmonies, and it became the only thing I listened to for several weeks. One Saturday, I was walking downstairs to my stereo (remember, it wasn’t in my room yet), and about to put on Paradise Theatre, and my dad intercepted me before I could get to what we called our den; it was basically just the entry room to the house.

 “What album is that?”, he asked me.

 “Oh this? It’s Styx…do you know who they are?”, I replied.

 “No, never heard of them,” he said. “Carol, do you know who Styx are?”

 So, now my mother was in this conversation.

 “Styx?”, she asked. “Is this devil music?”

What?!? I remember actually not knowing what to say to that question, and if my parents had a crystal ball that day and seen all the heavy metal posters that would be on my walls in only two short years, I think they would have passed out. Styx was nothing compared to what was in store.

“Hmmm, no, definitely not,” I finally said.

Then my dad said, “Well, why don’t we play it on my stereo? Then we can all listen to it.”

And before I knew it, he put it on his turntable, activated the automatic needle, and it promptly dropped onto the vinyl with a *pop* and Dennis DeYoung’s voice rang out… “Tonight’s the night we’ll make history, sure as dogs can fly…” And I sat there on the sofa, and I listened to this record and this band I loved…with my parents. This was MY record and band, and my parents simply could not get enough of it. I was horrified at first, and then it just all turned out to be funny, because they ended up playing it more than I did. I’d come home from hockey practice and they would have it on, obviously going into my room and taking it off my dresser before playing it on their stereo. They would play it while we ate family dinner on Saturday night or Sunday afternoons while we were all home. What made it funny was that I really think they thought this was cool, and that they were trying to learn the kind of music I liked. But from where I stood, a line had been crossed. All I wanted was to be cool, and find my own identity, and have parents that hated their kids’ taste in music so I could rebel. But they were blurring the lines! Every time they played Paradise Theatre they would comment on how great Dennis DeYoung’s voice was; my mother especially loved “The Best of Times”. I mean, they really ate it up. I get the impression looking back that they were recapturing the part of their lives when they bought albums every week, and cared about what was on the radio, before we moved and my dad’s career really started to blow up. This went on until almost the holiday season, when they would chide me for being into the Rolling Stones and “Start Me Up”; by then everyone had moved on from Styx, at least for the time being. I returned to Paradise Theatre, but not as often. All those albums I mentioned earlier appeared in my rotation, along with Escape by Journey, and the debut album by supergroup Asia (go ahead, laugh all you want, but I never framed an Asia poster, so there). The musical growth trip I was on continued, and eventually my parents retreated to their side…except the one time they borrowed my Journey record. But they loved that one so much, they bought their own copy. Good thing too; I can’t imagine what my adolescence would have been like if I had gotten sick of “Don’t Stop Believin’”

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Here is that great video for “Too Much Time on My Hands”, the first video I ever saw on MTV. Funny thing about the beginning of a decade is that the prior decade is usually still hanging on; the video looks like something shot in 1977. Enjoy! 😊

Next time…Iron Maiden make their second appearance, and I go through a rite of passage: my first concert ever, in May of 1985.

P.S.

In June of 1983, Styx headlined two shows in Houston and Dallas for that year’s Texxas Jam. The bill also included no-nonsense hard rock acts Uriah Heep, Ted Nugent, Triumph and Sammy Hagar. Styx was supporting their dystopian-inspired concept album Kilroy Was Here, which featured an elaborate stage set and long speaking parts for the band members between songs. Sammy Hagar played a raucous set right before Styx went on, which included a guest appearance by Ted Nugent on Led Zeppelin’s “Whole Lotta Love”, an exploding Trans Am, and both men leaping off the drum riser at the set’s conclusion. According to Hagar, Tommy Shaw walked into Hagar’s dressing room and thanked Hagar for inspiring him to quit Styx. Shaw was so blown away by the performance and so embarrassed by what would be a downer of a set by his own band that he knew he had to leave, which he did at the conclusion of the tour. Styx would indeed basically be booed off the stage that night; think about 100,000 fans in the blistering Texas heat all fired up after watching Sammy Hagar blow up a sports car having to sit through Styx talk to each other about robots between songs and you might understand. Shaw had had enough of Dennis DeYoung’s concept albums and soft rock and left to pursue a solo career; he would form Damn Yankees with Nugent, Night Ranger’s Jack Blades, and drummer Michael Cartellone in 1990. Styx reunited without Shaw in 1990, with the album Edge of the Century; Shaw returned in 1995 to re-record “Lady” for a Greatest Hits collection, and they toured the following year, releasing a live album, Return to Paradise to document it. Longtime drummer John Panozzo died in late 1996; session drummer Todd Sucherman filled in for Panozzo on the 1996 tour and eventually became a full member. In 1999, Styx finished recording their first new album in nine years, Brave New World, and were about to embark on a tour to support it when DeYoung announced he could not go on the road due to health issues. He was replaced by pianist and vocalist Lawrence Gowan. In 2001, DeYoung sued Styx to be compensated for use of the Styx name; the lawsuit was settled, and Shaw and James Young retained the Styx name. DeYoung has never returned to the band he helped to form but continues to tour and perform Styx songs as well as his own material. Styx also continues to tour classic material and even returned “Mr. Roboto” to the setlist in 2018 after not playing it for decades. Shaw insists he never hated the song, just the arrangement; the song is played now in a more rock-based arrangement with more guitars and more prominent drums but honestly doesn’t sound much different to me. I bought Kilroy Was Here in the spring of 1983, and I did try and like it, but in the end, I just didn’t get it. The videos were also a little too hokey; they just didn’t look like anyone was having any fun. Besides, I was getting into more of the music that would shape my high school years at that time. It was time to move on from Styx. I still think they’re a great band, and I like their earlier stuff, but if I’m honest, their Greatest Hits collection released in 1995 is perfect, and I still listen to it. I think I still have the CD somewhere. I listened to Paradise Theatre several times while I was putting this post together, and it really does sound like a Broadway show soundtrack, especially the opener, “Rockin’ the Paradise”. I can picture the curtain going up and background dancers and an orchestra pit, and Dennis DeYoung running around a stage set of the Paradise Theatre while he sings. I have to give him credit for having a vision and being creative; it just didn’t jive with the rest of the band’s idea of what a rock and roll band was. When Tommy Shaw was brought into Styx in 1974, he was hired for his raw talent because the band needed someone quickly after they lost a member. There’s no doubt he made Styx better; Shaw is a great guitarist, singer and songwriter. But Dennis DeYoung essentially began to lose his band when he hired Shaw. The vision of the two musicians would never align, and you can see it in the songs that each wrote and sang; the flourish and showmanship of DeYoung and the more straightforward rock and roll and blues influences of Shaw was evident on all those early albums. It was only when DeYoung forced his hand that he was able to get those concept albums recorded; but Shaw by then had taken a back seat to the process and written less songs. Now, Styx is Shaw’s band. He and guitarist James Young are the only original members remaining and they keep those Styx classics alive by continuing to tour with a core of musicians that have stuck around with them for decades at this point. And it sounds like Styx to me, although it will never come close to those first few times I listened to Paradise Theatre all the way through.

Eventually my parents did in fact hate every album I brought into the house, telling me to either turn it down or throw it away. Looking back, I guess I thought I was being cool and rebellious, and I suppose every teenager needs to go through that phase, but now when I think about that period in my life, I feel bad about it. At least they were trying to get to know me and what I was listening to instead of just dismissing it. They never asked me to borrow another record though, which was fine. If you asked them about Styx later in life they probably would have had a hard time recalling Paradise Theatre at all. I’m pretty sure that record was a blip for them and didn’t leave the lasting impression it left on me. To this day I’m still not sure why they liked it as much as they did, but I’m grateful for the few weeks we listened to the same album before all those years of us severely disagreeing on music. And other stuff.

See you next time…

JS

6/9/2025