steampunk noun /ˈstiːmˌpʌŋk/
A genre and aesthetic combining 19th-century steam-powered technology with futuristic inventions, often set in an alternate Victorian-era world and characterized by retrofuturistic fashion, machinery, and design.
Once-rebellious rock anthems from the ’70s and ’80s are hitting that awkward phase, somewhere between timeless and timeworn. What once shook stadiums now barely stirs a Bluetooth speaker, as the Spotify generation relegates “classic rock” to the sonic equivalent of wallpaper. Perfect for dentist’s office waiting rooms, elevators, and commercials promising zero APR. These legendary tracks, once gods of vinyl and titans of tape decks, now risk becoming background noise to people who think Fleetwood Mac is a TikTok influencer.
Sensing their golden gods going gray, record labels have swapped nostalgia for novelty, trading in bell-bottomed reverence for brass-geared reinvention. The mission? Fuse steampunk spectacle with cultural sarcasm, dressing these dusty chart-toppers in leather corsets, chrome, and just enough attitude to pass the Gen Z vibe check. It’s not just a remaster. It’s a full-on remix with a makeover montage.
The following is a lovingly irreverent jukebox facelift: a lineup of 24 of rock’s greatest hits, polished, punked-out, and punctuated with puns, followed by brief summaries. Imagine a greatest hits album in fishnet gloves, quoting Oscar Wilde and wearing eyeliner thick enough to smudge the space-time continuum.
These aren’t just songs. They’re glamorized ghosts of guitars past, revamped, reimagined, and ready to riff again. Rock on, you party animals.
Africa
Toto (1982)
A group of studio musicians from L.A. closed their eyes, spun a globe, and produced the definitive ballad on a continent they researched exclusively through National Geographic centerfolds and Indiana Jones reruns.
Another Brick in the Wall
Pink Floyd (1979)
British schoolchildren chant in dystopian unison about their lack of pudding, turning what should’ve been a PTA meeting into a prog-rock protest musical about educational fascism.
Bette Davis Eyes
Kim Carnes (1981)
Kim rasps her way through a character assassination disguised as a compliment, portraying a woman so dangerously chic, she’s been banned from several high-end department stores.
Born to Run
Bruce Springsteen (1975)
The Boss screams about escape and horsepower like a leather-bound Greek tragedy, featuring New Jersey as both a location and an emotional disorder.
Crazy Little Thing Called Love
Queen (1979)
Freddie Mercury momentarily transforms into a reincarnated Elvis impersonator on a caffeinated bender, crooning about romance as if it were a rabid squirrel he’s trying to cage.
Dancing Queen
ABBA (1976)
Four impeccably feathered Swedes release a track that turns every middle-aged aunt into a glitter-fueled time traveler with disco fever and zero cartilage left in their knees.
Dreams
Fleetwood Mac (1977)
Stevie Nicks delivers relationship advice from inside a fog machine, using lyrics that sound like horoscopes for people allergic to emotional stability.
Edge of Seventeen
Stevie Nicks (1981)
A metaphor-packed fever dream where doves cry, ghosts dance, and Stevie wails about mortality with enough scarves to knit a funeral tent.
Eye of the Tiger
Survivor (1982)
This testosterone-soaked Rocky training montage anthem treats every jog as a battle and every set of stairs as a metaphor for crushing your enemies and becoming mayor of Philadelphia.
Footloose
Kenny Loggins (1984)
A town outlaws dancing for moral reasons, leading Kevin Bacon to defeat authoritarianism with jazz hands and the raw power of an illegal sock hop.
Free Fallin’
Tom Petty (1989)
Tom casually admits to emotionally ghosting a nice girl in the Valley, but it’s okay because he’s now slowly drifting toward rock-and-roll ennui in midair.
Heartbreaker
Pat Benatar (1979)
Pat hits notes so high they vaporize the ex-boyfriends she’s warning, all while punching emotional devastation in the face with four-inch heels and a heavy bass line.
Hotel California
Eagles (1976)
A twilight-zone travel brochure where the concierge serves eternal damnation, the minibar’s haunted, and your Uber out of hell is permanently delayed.
I Wanna Dance with Somebody
Whitney Houston (1987)
Whitney sings a radiant love letter to human touch, while the backing track practically screams “disco inferno meets emotional vacuum.”
In the Air Tonight
Phil Collins (1981)
A simmering stew of vengeance and slow-burning drum solos, where Phil builds up 4 minutes of mild dread just to hit you with a beat drop that sounds like judgment day.
Jump
Van Halen (1984)
David Lee Roth yells at you to “Jump!” with the manic energy of a PE teacher on Red Bull, never explaining whether you’re fleeing a disabled aircraft or just catching a Frisbee.
Maniac
Michael Sembello (1983)
She’s a maniac, maniac on the floor, which is music industry code for “high-functioning obsessive with a soundtrack and dangerous dance shoes.”
More Than a Feeling
Boston (1976)
A lush, guitar-soaked ode to the magic of hearing your song, right before realizing your entire personality peaked during a slow dance at your senior prom.
Rebel Yell
Billy Idol (1983)
Billy channels the libido of a haunted leather jacket, screaming for “more, more, more” like a punk rock toddler who’s just discovered tequila.
Sledgehammer
Peter Gabriel (1986)
A percussive explosion of metaphors so unsubtle they should come with a hard hat, where he volunteers his entire body as a romantic Home Depot.
Staying Alive
Bee Gees (1977)
Three falsetto angels defy death, poverty, and polyester sweat with coordinated hip thrusts and vocal tones only dogs can fully appreciate.
Superstition
Stevie Wonder (1972)
Stevie turns your aunt’s chain email about breaking mirrors into the funkiest public service announcement ever recorded by a musical genius and a haunted clavinet.
Under Pressure
Queen & David Bowie (1981)
Glam rock’s royal court stages a musical anxiety attack with harmonized shrieking and a bassline that was later adopted by a man who knows zero pressure.
You Shook Me All Night Long
AC/DC (1980)
Angus and crew deliver a euphemism-laden, sexually-charged bedtime story told by men who think subtlety is a brand of deodorant.
See ya on the back side!
