It’s difficult to feel bad for someone as handsome as Jon Bon Jovi.

Heck, he’s one of the few guys in history to have four great hairstyles.

Yet here we are.

Because as the world got to grips with the pandemic during the early stages of 2020, little did we know that rock veterans Bon Jovi were gearing up to drop a brand new album.

In the confusion which ensued after the announcement of an unprecedented “lockdown”, the band decided to pull the plug on 2020 at the last possible moment (literally the eve of release) and delay it until the world had returned back to normal, in order to support their new record with festival appearances and a world tour.

So they waited… and they waited… and they waited.

Until eventually so much time had passed that frontman Jon Bon Jovi no longer felt any connection to the songs which he had written, and decided to bin the entire project and start over. This meant that “2020” would be further delayed until 2021 (yep). To make matters worse, another war of words broke out in the press with ex-guitarist Richie Sambora, and to top it off, the singer received confirmation from his doctor that the issues which had dogged his voice towards the end of the band’s previous tour were not simply wear and tear, but in fact permanent vocal chord damage.

Yikes.

So perhaps we should be grateful that 2020 was even released at all?

Maybe, maybe not.

This is a Bon Jovi album like no other, whether you like it or not.

Gone are the crunching guitars, motivational lyrics, and thunderous drums which turned their biggest anthems into timeless classics and worked their way into the hearts of fans’ all over the world, and in their place is a largely acoustic, speak-singing, austere collection of songs which serve as a “time capsule” to one of the strangest periods any of us have ever lived through.

You see, just like the rest of us, Jon Bon Jovi and co. were stuck at home.

They raised their eyebrows in shock as Broadway turned off its lights.

They watched on in horror as pop-up medical centres began appearing on every street corner.

They were glued to the news as the George Floyd incident occurred in Minneapolis, followed by the Black Lives Matter protests which swept across their home nation and eventually the world.

Indeed, so much had occurred during these few short months in what was perhaps the first time in Jon Bon Jovi’s career where he wasn’t on the move, that it persuaded him to write a completely different type of Bon Jovi album to that which he had originally composed; one born of frustration, social conscience, and the sombre realisation that everything is utterly fucked.

Unfortunately, the story behind 2020 is much more interesting than the actual music.

You see, there’s a certain level of comfort which we draw from hearing Bon Jovi do what Bon Jovi have always done. These guys are highly skilled at creating the kind of fist-pumping anthems which can lift even the darkest of moods, and cheesy as they may be, they sure know how to make us feel like everything’s gonna be alright.

Pulling this rug from under us reveals a side to the band which we’d rather not see.

Don’t get me wrong, this LP features some absolutely outstanding lyrics, but when they’re presented without the usual Bon Jovi “punch” they hit much harder and darker than any of us were emotionally prepared for.

“When did a judge and jury,
Become a badge and a knee?”

American Reckoning

Lead single Limitless attempts to pick up where the superb This House Is Not For Sale (2016) left off, but producer John Shanks has once again tightened his vice grip on the band’s musical direction, and his overly glossy finish manages to distil Tico Torres’ crucial drums to a contemporary chart sound, killing it’s momentum stone dead.

This is a shame, because it’s an otherwise great song.

Elsewhere, mid-album effort Beautiful Drug sounds like it could’ve been featured on the likes of These Days (1995) or Crush (2000), but is held back by a surprisingly unimaginative guitar solo from Sambora-replacement Phil X who, prior to this track, hadn’t really been given an opportunity to win over fans with his shredding skills.

He does himself no favours here.

Meanwhile, the poignant Blood In The Water simply sounds too much like a mash between Always and Dry County to be recognised for it’s own merits.

Make no mistake, the undoubted highlight of 2020 is the country-tinged Do What You Can.

It showcases Bon Jovi at their very best, focusing on the chart-ready country sound which injected them with a second lease of life during the late 2000s, and the tune is undeniably catchy as a motherfucker.

If there’s a single song which must stand as an audible record of the clusterfuck that was “lockdown”, we’re more than happy for Do What You Can to be put on that pedestal by future generations.

What’s perhaps most interesting about this particular track is that, while Jon Bon Jovi has always been great at describing life’s struggles metaphorically (e.g. think of how many times he’s sung about “never giving up hope” without mentioning the specifics of a situation), Do What You Can is quite jarring as he’s tackling real-life issues head-on and providing a sort of social commentary to what is going on outside his window (“They built a hospital on East Meadow in Central Park last night”). It’s refreshing, it’s uplifting, and yes, while he occasionally can’t resist dropping a lyric with more cheese than a pepperoni pizza (see below), it’s done in a heartfelt way, and is precisely what we wanted to hear during the fucktacular shitnado of ass that was the pandemic.

Indeed, had more of the album had been coated in this kind of hope then 2020 would’ve received a significantly higher score.

“Although I’ll keep my social distance,
What this world needs is a hug.”

Do What You Can

In summary:

The rockers from New Jersey attempted to create a time capsule of the pandemic, but a lack of quality tunes makes for a largely forgettable record with the band at their post-Sambora worst.

2020 receives 3/11.
★ ★ ★

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