The Best Rock ‘n Roll Sequel Ever: A Review of Meat Loaf's "Bat Out of Hell II", written, produced, and arranged by Jim Steinman

“Rock and Roll Dream Come True,” 3D render by William A. Hainline

Why the lengthly title credit? Because folks, this is an album where Jim Steinman — the empirical master of “more and more” finally addresses the one thing that the teenage invincibility of his Bat Out of Hell (Meat Loaf’s first foray with the erstwhile songwriter — both of them are now sadly deceased — was probably afraid of more than any sharp turns on the road up ahead on his “silver black phantom bike.” And that thing is mortality. With Bat Out of Hell’s wailing, gothic guitars, its over-the-top backup vocals, and it’s 12- and 8-minute opuses to excess, it just goes to show you that we all have to grow up sometime . . . though Steinman rejects the traditional view of maturity with lyrics like “A wasted youth is better by far than a wise and productive old age.” Surely the irony of releasing a sequel to an album made 15 years before this one was not lost on Steinman, nor his overly-indulgent production style: Choruses that go on forever; multiple guitar and keyboard riffs in one song; a paen to all those “rock gods” who have gone before; and even a brief meditation on “What’s it all for?” were things that Steinman, in his genius, probably took into account in the writing, arrangement and production of this album. (To quote Steinman about how he produced it, he said, “down to the last grace note of every vocal delivery.”) And it’s a believable claim, too. This is an album that would’ve done much better in 1988 or 1989, or even 1986 . . . but instead it was released the height and bitter early-on climax of 1990’s “minimalist” and “grunge” movements. As a result, the album is a testament to these two gentleman’s views on rock, sex, aging, and always wanting more of everything. Which is what the early 1990’s was definitely not about. While everyone else was wearing Seattle-inspired clothing inspired by Nirvana’s hole-filled jeans, Steinman was out parading around in full leather biker gear. And Meat Loaf with him. (Never mind the fact that Steinman never drove — he never even rode a motorcycle! — and that Meat Loaf had to retrain his voice to achieve Steinman’s operatic ambitions.

These two men are a study in opposites attracting. Firstly you have Meat Loaf — a 400 pound gospel singer born and raised in Texas by an abusive father. Then you have Steinman — a New York, off-broadway formed liberal with ambitions that reached beyond the furious pounding he did on pianos (and he even has his nails get cut short so he could “bleed on the keys” after every performance.) When these two titanic forces of rock met in 1976, there was little doubt that they would go on to chart-smashing success together, even though it might not have looked it at the time; for over 47 record companies rejected the initial Bat Out of Hell, unitl another unsung genius of his time, the ever-present Todd Rundgren. Who somehow understood Steinman’s wondrous love of theatricality, over-the-topness, and wild rebellious spirit. And he managed to boil it all down — as well as ease some of Steinman’s more “ambitious” ideas — and into the real world, where it became — and still is — the third best-selling rock album of all time.

The genesis of the album is even weirder, but very fitting: For Steinman had written a musical-threatre gem he had not shared with the world just yet: A post-apocalyptic, science-fictional retelling of Peter Pan, replete with the main character, BAAL, using a guitar as a weapon. This became the basis for all of Steinman’s manic, obsessive music. It was as if he had been bitten by a radioactive spider, and was now climbing the walls of his cage, which was the Disco-dominated rock scene in 1977.

Steinman had always been fascinated by motorcycles, guitars, and other artifacts of “rock and roll mythology,” and since this was a man who loved him some mythology, he integrated that into his songs, so that they became themselves anthems of youth, rebellion, vitality, and virility. But as the years past, it must not have been lost on Steinman that all of these things eventually fade away with old age — which is why Bat Out of Hell begins on such an outlandish note — the 12-minute mini-opera of I Would Do Anything For Love — but ends on a much more somber note, a number called Lost Boys and Golden Girls. Which contains the line, “And we’ll never be as young / As we are right now . . . / Runnin’ away . . . / And runnin’ for home!” Here’s a song-by-song breakdown of the album:

1. "I'd Do Anything for Love (But I Won't Do That)"

This iconic song, clocking in at over 12 minutes, is both epic and tender. It opens the album with a grandiose, theatrical arrangement that combines orchestral sweeps, heavy guitars, and Meat Loaf's emotive vocals. The song's length is justified by its dynamic structure, moving through different musical sections. Lyrically, it’s about the extremes of love, but its cryptic refrain ("but I won't do that") left listeners speculating for years. The duet with Lorraine Crosby toward the end adds a fresh layer, making it feel like a musical dialogue. A true rock opera centerpiece.

2. "Life Is a Lemon and I Want My Money Back"

This track is a high-energy, aggressive anthem filled with frustration and sarcasm. Musically, it’s got a heavier, more industrial rock sound compared to other songs on the album. Meat Loaf’s vocal delivery matches the bitter lyrics, which depict life’s disappointments and the desire for a refund on the whole experience. The rapid-fire chorus is infectious, and the breakdowns add tension before the explosive returns. It’s one of the album’s angriest and most cynical moments.

3. "Rock and Roll Dreams Come Through"

Originally recorded by Jim Steinman for his Bad for Good album, this version is warmer and more uplifting. The song is an ode to rock and roll as a source of salvation and escape. Meat Loaf’s rendition is passionate and earnest, making it feel like a motivational anthem for dreamers. The soaring piano and saxophone parts add a nostalgic, classic rock feel. It’s a love letter to the power of music, and its sincerity makes it one of the album’s emotional highlights.

4. "It Just Won't Quit"

This song blends dark, gothic overtones with the album's typical bombast. Lyrically, it speaks of relentless longing and emotional turmoil, where feelings refuse to fade no matter how much time passes. Meat Loaf's voice is filled with desperation, giving the track an intense, haunting quality. The orchestral flourishes and grand arrangement are quintessential Steinman, making the song feel almost cinematic, like a scene from a tragic love story.

5. "Out of the Frying Pan (And Into the Fire)"

Another reimagined track from Steinman’s Bad for Good, this song is a fast-paced, hard-hitting rock number with an adventurous, runaway energy. The frantic pace reflects the metaphor of jumping from one perilous situation into another, with the music perfectly matching the chaotic feeling of the lyrics. Meat Loaf’s performance is fiery, and the instrumental breaks showcase fantastic guitar work. It’s a thrilling ride from start to finish.

6. "Objects in the Rear View Mirror May Appear Closer Than They Are"

This song stands out as one of the most deeply reflective tracks on the album. It's an emotionally complex narrative about loss, regret, and memory. Meat Loaf's storytelling shines here as he recounts vivid memories of youth, love, and tragedy. The orchestral arrangement swells and falls with the intensity of the narrative, making it feel like a nostalgic journey through the past. The length of the song gives it room to breathe, and by the end, it leaves a lingering feeling of bittersweet melancholy. A standout ballad with great emotional depth.

7. "Wasted Youth" (Monologue)

This is an intense spoken-word piece, delivered with theatrical flair by Steinman himself. It’s a dark, slightly humorous tale of youthful rebellion and destruction, serving as a prelude to the next track. The combination of Steinman’s dramatic delivery and the disturbing content creates a sense of foreboding, adding to the album’s over-the-top, rock-opera atmosphere. While it’s not a musical highlight, it fits the album’s larger narrative structure.

8. "Everything Louder Than Everything Else"

This is pure rock 'n' roll excess, both in sound and attitude. The title says it all: it’s about turning up the volume and living life without limits. Musically, it’s a loud, driving anthem with a rebellious spirit, featuring shout-along choruses and thunderous drums. The lyrics are defiant and celebratory, embracing a no-holds-barred attitude toward life. It’s not as emotionally complex as other tracks, but it’s undeniably fun and brimming with energy.

9. "Good Girls Go to Heaven (Bad Girls Go Everywhere)"

This track, with its cheeky lyrics and infectious rhythm, plays on the familiar good girl/bad girl trope in a playful, over-the-top way. Originally written for Pandora’s Box, Meat Loaf’s version is punchy and filled with swagger. The call-and-response between the vocals and backing singers adds a fun dynamic. It’s a bit more playful and tongue-in-cheek than the heavier songs on the album, providing a lighter, rebellious vibe.

10. "Back Into Hell" (Instrumental)

This instrumental piece serves as a dramatic, foreboding interlude. It's full of gothic overtones, sweeping orchestration, and eerie tension. The dark mood it sets feels like the soundtrack to an apocalyptic film, and though short, it reinforces the album’s theatrical nature. While it doesn’t stand on its own as a memorable track, it effectively enhances the album's narrative flow.

11. "Lost Boys and Golden Girls"

The album closes on a more wistful note with this reflective track, also originally from Bad for Good. It’s a slow, melancholic ballad about the fleeting nature of youth and dreams. The song has a nostalgic, almost elegiac quality, as Meat Loaf reflects on lost innocence and the passage of time. The simplicity of the arrangement, especially compared to the bombast of the earlier songs, gives it a poignant, intimate feel. It’s a bittersweet conclusion to an album that otherwise thrives on excess.

Bat Out of Hell II is a worthy sequel to the original, with its melodramatic flair, larger-than-life production, and rock-opera storytelling. While some songs are more memorable than others, the album as a whole is a thrilling journey through Steinman’s wild imagination and Meat Loaf’s powerful voice. It’s a celebration of excess in every sense, with songs that often feel more like theatrical performances than traditional rock tracks. If you love dramatic, over-the-top rock, this album delivers in spades.

It’s too bad Steinman and Meat died when they did. For their last album together — which was met with only middling success with both fans and non fans alike — entitled “Braver Than We Are” — a song is from Steinman’s lauded off-broadway German musical, Tanz Der Vampire) but here translated into gorgeous English by Meat Loaf, Ellen Foley, and Karla De Vito, Steinman’s original and usual trio-de-force of vocal talent. One wonders why Holly Sherwood and other Pandora’s Box artists were not invited to participate. But this one song — out of all the weird “Neverland” outtakes that find their way onto the finished album — is, I believe, Steinman saying goodbye to the world, knowing his death was imminent and wanted to record a deeply passionate, 10-minute mini-opera about how “We always seem to be / Braver than we really are . . . / Let’s run away / let’s go too far!” It is the perfect note to go out on for Steinman: It’s lavishly produced (despite an ailing Meat Loaf’s problematic voice), and it’s treated as the album’s grandest anthem to youth, aging, and then fading away (or “burnin’ out,” as the Kurgen might say in The Highlander.”)

Steinman has always been a curio as a songwriter, and Meat Loaf his most passionately played vocal instrument, next to his grand piano, that he was always doing grandiose things with. And Meat Loaf was a curio as a vocalist, but a damn good one. Perhaps that’s why, despite poor reception at first, this album — “Bat Out of Hell II: Back into Hell” is such an ostentatious — and long-lived — phenomenon in our pop culture. It may be that Steinman was crying out in agony at all the unironic lack of joy of the 1990’s, and that this album is his perfect rejection of “grunge” and “alternative.” And if that is so, then long live “Bat 2!” And though Steinman and Meat loaf have both passed into the grey havens of Tolkien’s elves, long live the two of them, too!

Meat Loaf, born Marvin Lee Aday, was a singular presence in rock music—an artist whose larger-than-life voice and dramatic theatricality became synonymous with 1970s and 80s rock operas. Best known for his iconic album Bat Out of Hell (1977), Meat Loaf carved out a distinctive space in music history, blending rock, pop, and theatrical flair in a way that no one else quite dared to. His collaborations with songwriter Jim Steinman resulted in some of the most epic, over-the-top anthems in rock music. Though his career faced ups and downs, and his unique style was at times divisive, Meat Loaf’s artistry ultimately left an indelible mark on the music world.

Bat Out of Hell is undoubtedly Meat Loaf’s magnum opus. Released in 1977, it was a collaboration between Meat Loaf and the equally eccentric songwriter and composer Jim Steinman. The album was an unlikely hit, blending bombastic rock anthems, sweeping ballads, and a touch of gothic drama. It wasn’t just an album—it was a rock opera, filled with cinematic narratives, soaring vocals, and operatic grandeur. Meat Loaf’s powerful voice was the perfect vehicle for Steinman’s compositions, and the two together created something truly special.

Songs like "Paradise by the Dashboard Light" and "Bat Out of Hell" became anthems for a generation, with their vivid storytelling, theatrical arrangements, and Meat Loaf’s emotional, almost operatic delivery. His voice could shift from a powerful roar to a tender whisper, imbuing Steinman’s lyrics with a level of intensity and vulnerability that few other rock singers could achieve. This ability to move between extremes—both vocally and emotionally—became one of Meat Loaf’s defining characteristics.

Despite initial skepticism from critics, Bat Out of Hell became one of the best-selling albums of all time, proving that there was an audience for Meat Loaf’s brand of theatrical rock. The album’s success cemented Meat Loaf as a rock icon and demonstrated that rock music could be more than just guitars and drums—it could be cinematic, larger-than-life, and full of drama.

While Bat Out of Hell was an enormous success, Meat Loaf’s career was not without its challenges. The years following the release of Bat Out of Hell were marked by personal and professional struggles. Meat Loaf’s voice deteriorated, reportedly due to exhaustion, and his relationship with Jim Steinman became strained. His follow-up albums, Dead Ringer (1981) and Midnight at the Lost and Found (1983), while containing flashes of brilliance, did not capture the magic of Bat Out of Hell and were met with lukewarm responses from critics and fans alike.

Part of the issue was that Meat Loaf and Steinman’s partnership, which had been the driving force behind Bat Out of Hell, was missing during this period. Steinman’s grand, theatrical compositions were perfectly suited to Meat Loaf’s voice, and without that collaboration, Meat Loaf struggled to find material that resonated in the same way. While his voice remained powerful, the absence of Steinman’s vision left a noticeable gap in Meat Loaf’s work during this time.

Additionally, Meat Loaf’s larger-than-life persona, which had made him a star, became something of a double-edged sword. While his fans adored his theatricality, some critics found his style excessive or overly dramatic. This sense of "too much" often dogged him, as many failed to see past the bombast to the genuine emotional depth that often lay beneath the surface.

After a difficult period in the 1980s, Meat Loaf experienced a triumphant comeback with the release of Bat Out of Hell II: Back Into Hell in 1993, once again reuniting with Jim Steinman. The album was a massive success, both commercially and critically, and spawned one of Meat Loaf’s most enduring hits, "I’d Do Anything for Love (But I Won’t Do That)."

This return to form demonstrated the enduring power of the Meat Loaf-Steinman collaboration. Bat Out of Hell II retained all the hallmarks of its predecessor—epic song structures, lush orchestration, and Meat Loaf’s passionate, larger-than-life vocals. But it also showed a matured, more reflective side to Meat Loaf. While still grandiose, the album’s themes of love, desire, and sacrifice had a deeper emotional resonance, with Meat Loaf’s voice showing new vulnerability alongside his signature intensity.

"I’d Do Anything for Love (But I Won’t Do That)" became one of the defining songs of the 1990s, topping charts worldwide and proving that Meat Loaf’s theatrical rock still had a place in the evolving music landscape. The success of Bat Out of Hell II marked one of the most remarkable comebacks in rock history, reaffirming Meat Loaf’s status as a unique and influential figure in music.

One of the central tensions in Meat Loaf’s career is his use of theatricality. To his fans, his dramatic, operatic style is what sets him apart—he’s not just a singer, but a performer, a storyteller, and a larger-than-life persona who brought an element of theater to rock music. His songs often felt like mini-plays, complete with characters, narratives, and a wide emotional range. This approach made him an iconic figure, but it also made him divisive, especially among critics who preferred a more stripped-down, "authentic" style of rock music.

For some, Meat Loaf’s music can be too much—too grandiose, too theatrical, too excessive. But for others, that very excess is what makes his work so compelling. His willingness to embrace the dramatic and emotional extremes of rock music, to dive headfirst into the operatic and the overblown, made him a singular figure in a genre that often prizes authenticity over theatricality.

In this way, Meat Loaf challenged the boundaries of what rock music could be. He proved that rock could be emotional, dramatic, and theatrical without losing its edge. And while his style wasn’t for everyone, those who connected with his music found a depth of feeling and expression that was unmatched in the world of rock opera.

Despite the ups and downs of his career, Meat Loaf remains an enduring figure in the world of rock music. His influence can be seen in the work of artists who embrace theatricality and narrative in their music, from Queen to My Chemical Romance. His voice, capable of both tender emotion and bombastic power, made him one of the most distinctive vocalists of his time.

At the heart of Meat Loaf’s appeal is his ability to connect with listeners on an emotional level. His songs, though often grandiose and melodramatic, speak to universal human experiences—love, loss, desire, and the yearning for something more. His collaboration with Jim Steinman created a body of work that is both timeless and utterly unique, a testament to the power of music to tell stories and evoke deep emotions.

Ultimately, while Meat Loaf’s style may not have been to everyone’s taste, his impact on music is undeniable. He took risks, pushed boundaries, and created music that was as theatrical as it was heartfelt. In doing so, he left behind a legacy that will continue to resonate with fans for generations to come.