I was 15 years old when Foreigner’s Double Vision album was released. Hot Blooded immediately became my favorite track on the LP, and this song played a key role in many of my early “Heavy-Duty” workouts. With its distinctive guitar riff and provocative lyrics, this rocker never failed to heat things up in the gym with a fire of fury. Such was the power of the song, and the emotional response it generated within me made personal training records fall like dominoes.
Just yesterday, I left work incredibly motivated to rip through a high-voltage workout. The plan was basically simple: leave work at 4:00; arrive home at 4:45; be in the gym by 5:00; be done training with two new personal training records under my belt by 5:30; be in the shower by 5:35; and, get dressed and get on with all the other things happening shortly afterwards.
All was on schedule until the train that always comes at 4:30 showed up early, and I lost 15 minutes waiting for that sucker to haul its 150 fully-loaded cars past the crossing. All I could do during the wait was look at the graffiti “art” on the cars as they crawled by, all the while wondering why train–car graffiti artists these days can’t spell worth a darn.
Once all the railroad machinery got out of the way, it was smooth sailing on the highway from there on, and I managed to make it home in record time. When I was just about one mile from my neighborhood, I turned on the radio hoping to rev up my internal forces with just the right song. As good fate had it, the opening notes to Foreigner’s Hot Blooded suddenly came screeching out of my car’s speakers with a nerve–triggering boost of wild energy. It was a very dramatic way to arrive home for a hard workout. And, by the time I finished training, it certainly felt like I had a fever of a hundred and three.
Well, I have just enough time for one more short story about Hot Blooded, and then I’m going to get out of here. Here we go.
During my sophomore year of high school (1978), I was bused to an inner–city school as part of a desegregation plan. John was one of the fellows who rode my bus, and he was considered to be a step above everybody else in intelligence, social status, maturity, attitude, appearance, and manners — you know the type. At this time, Hot Blooded was a top hit across the country, and nearly each day on the way to school and back we would hear this tune on WQHI (High 95), a now defunct radio station that our bus driver often played for us.
Evidently, John didn’t appreciate Foreigner’s mega hit, and one day I overheard him telling the person sitting next to him on our school bus that the song was “pure trash.” John then explained that he preferred listening to classical music, particularly Beethoven compositions. Hearing his ridiculous act of pretentiousness nearly got me sick to my stomach.
Now, every time I hear Hot Blooded on the radio, I recall the day that this song took an undeserved bashing from my old bus mate. But, it sure as heck is a great training song.
Yours in strength and health,