WWF Piledriver: The Wrestling Album 2 – A Chaotic Blast from the Past
Alright, let’s cut to the chase. WWF Piledriver: The Wrestling Album 2 by James A. Johnston isn’t some highbrow masterpiece—it’s a wild ride that smacks you in the face with its sheer audacity. Released back in '87 under Epic Records, this thing is like wrestling itself: loud, over-the-top, and unapologetically dumb in all the best ways. And yeah, it’s American through and through—big, brash, and dripping with cheese.
Now, I gotta say, there are two tracks here that stick out like a sore thumb—or maybe like a steel chair to the skull. First up? “Land of a Thousand Dances (WWF Version).” Oh man, this one grabs you by the collar and doesn’t let go. It’s got that classic rock vibe mashed into wrestling hype culture, complete with shouty vocals and enough energy to power a small arena. You can practically hear the crowd going nuts while Randy Savage or Hulk Hogan struts down the ramp. This track sticks because it’s so damn relentless—it’s not asking for your attention; it’s demanding it. That beat hits harder than a suplex on concrete.
Then there’s “Grab Them Medals.” What even is this madness?! It’s part anthem, part fever dream, and 100% ridiculous. The lyrics are about as subtle as a piledriver itself, but who cares? This song screams late-'80s wrestling glory, where patriotism was cranked up to eleven and every wrestler looked like they were auditioning for an action movie. The chorus slams into your brain and stays there, whether you want it to or not. Honestly, it’s kind of brilliant in how unhinged it feels. Like, did anyone really think this would age well? Probably not, but that’s why we love it.
Look, this album ain’t perfect. Some of the production sounds like it was recorded in someone’s garage during a house party. But that rawness gives it character. In a world full of polished pop albums, Piledriver 2 stands out like a neon pink jumpsuit. Sure, it’s cheesy as hell, but isn’t that what wrestling music should be?
Here’s the kicker though—if you listen closely, you realize something weird. Beneath all the bombast and chest-thumping bravado, there’s actual heart here. Maybe it’s nostalgia talking, but this record reminds me why wrestling mattered back then. It wasn’t just entertainment; it was escapism at its finest. So sure, laugh at the goofy lyrics and questionable synth choices, but don’t act like you didn’t have fun listening to it.
Final thought? If aliens ever invade Earth, just blast them Piledriver 2. They’ll either surrender immediately or start booking matches against Ric Flair. Either way, we win.
