Where The Grass Is Green by John Norum: A Hard Rock Gem That Still Kicks (1996)
Alright, let’s talk about Where The Grass Is Green, the 1996 hard rock album from John Norum, the Swedish guitar wizard who probably has more riffs in his head than most of us have thoughts in a day. Released under Zero Corporation, this record doesn’t reinvent the wheel, but it sure spins it with style. It’s got that raw European rock vibe—think leather jackets, smoky bars, and amps cranked to eleven.
Now, I’ll be honest, not every track on here is gonna make you drop your coffee cup in awe, but there are moments where Norum really nails it. Let’s dive into two tracks that stuck with me like gum on a shoe.
First up, “Center Of Balance.” This one hits like a well-aimed punch to the gut. The riff? Chunky as heck. The groove? Sticky enough to make you nod along even if you’re pretending to hate it. What makes this track memorable is how Norum balances melody and muscle without overthinking it. There’s no pretentious noodling here—just straight-up rock ‘n’ roll swagger. You can almost picture him standing center stage, hair whipping around like he’s auditioning for an ‘80s hair metal band reunion tour.
Then there’s the title track, “Where The Grass Is Green.” Now, I don’t know if John was feeling particularly poetic or just wanted to remind us all of simpler times, but this tune feels like a road trip through some mythical countryside. The opening riff grabs you by the collar and says, “Hey, listen up!” while the vocals bring just enough grit to keep things grounded. By the time the solo kicks in, you’re either air-guitaring like a lunatic or wondering why you haven’t picked up an instrument yourself. Either way, it’s good stuff.
What’s cool about this album is that it doesn’t try too hard to impress—it just delivers solid, no-frills hard rock. Sure, it might not change your life, but it’ll definitely soundtrack a few rowdy nights or long drives when you need something loud and unapologetic.
Here’s the kicker though: listening to Where The Grass Is Green made me realize something weird. For a guy known for shredding solos, John Norum seems happiest when he lets the songs breathe. Maybe that’s why this album still holds up after all these years—it’s got heart, not just horsepower. Or maybe I’m reading too much into it because my cat interrupted me mid-review and now I’m distracted. Who knows?
Anyway, if you’re a fan of hard rock with a touch of class (and a whole lot of volume), give this one a spin. Just don’t blame me if your neighbors start complaining.
