In praise of Kilroy Was Here by Styx, which saw the future on February 22, 1983


I have come here not to bury Kilroy, but to praise him. Or, more accurately, it. Kilroy Was Here is the brilliant concept album released by Styx on February 22, 1983. It's also the album that supposedly destroyed the band, and has been lambasted and mocked by many a music critic and fair-weather Styx fan who possess an irrational hatred of Dennis DeYoung. And by members of Styx who possess an equally-irrational hatred of Dennis DeYoung. Woe unto them who cannot realize that without Dennis DeYoung, most of the band's fanbase and record buyers would never have heard of Styx.

Rock critics already had their sharp snark out for the band once it gained megasuccess in the late 70s, and, look, how many times do we look back at a biting critique of an album in Rolling Stone that reads as positively moronic thirty years later? A lot. Critics hate art that is understood and embraced by a circle wider than themselves.

But the turncoats among Styx fans cannot be excused so easily. As far as I can tell, the loudest complaints come from those who were the earliest followers of the band, in an earlier 70s period that saw the group earn no small measure of prog-rock bona fides. I can understand where they're coming from, but why they despise Kilroy is somewhat odd, as it was the most prog album the band had released in some time.

The idea that Kilroy was Styx "selling out" for pop stardom? Equally nutty. They already had it. I became a Styx fan during the Cornerstone era, which saw a massive hit single for the band, the romantic ballad "Babe." 

"Babe" was written and sung by DeYoung, and deservedly took over the radio airwaves in America from late 1979 into the summer of 1980. Some of his bandmates seemingly never recovered from this. And that's strange, because Tommy Shaw has just about as many Styx hits to his credit as DeYoung. And had no shortage of spotlight on Kilroy Was Here.

James Young later complained to the Chicago Tribune that DeYoung "really wanted to do these soft, intimate love ballads, and that was against the grain for me and Tommy Shaw." Is that why Shaw, upon leaving Styx, next appeared on the hit single charts performing soft, intimate love ballads with Damn Yankees?

The last major accusation hurled at Kilroy? "Dennis DeYoung wanted to be a Broadway star." Folks, Paradise Theatre was a DeYoung concept album, certainly worthy of a Broadway book adaptation, and - get this - it came out BEFORE Kilroy Was Here.

Paradise Theatre was a fantastic album. But to my ears, the best songs on Kilroy were even better. "Mr. Roboto" sounds fresh and futuristic to this day, and sonically was like nothing else on the radio at the time it debuted in 1983. While the harmony vocals and chorus were what you expected from a Styx hit, the lyrical content, synth sounds and other electronics goings-on were in perfect sync with the '83 zeitgeist writ large. Most of us kids were listening to "Mr. Roboto" on the radio while paging through some of the earliest video game and computer magazines.

This was our Styx for our era.

And millions of other people of all ages seemed to agree. "Mr. Roboto" and "Don't Let It End" were massive hit singles. Both are essential Styx tracks. Kilroy Was Here went on to be a platinum-selling "flop." I cue up "Mr. Roboto" at least once a week to this day.

With Kilroy, Dennis DeYoung not only reaffirmed he was one of the greatest talents and voices in rock music - and in music history in general - but also proved to have forseen the future of the next four decades. Before the 80s were out, warning labels and total bans had been proposed for music arbitrarily deemed immoral by some, and artists like 2 Live Crew were literally being arrested. Today, we are in the midst of the techno future "Mr. Roboto" gave us only a 5-minute, 28-second glimpse of, beholden to blue light screens and AI agents for nearly everything we do. And in some "free, democratic" Western countries, citizens are being jailed for opinions they post online. Big Brother is watching, and he's using every electronic tool at his disposal to keep his eyes on you.

Look around. We’re all walking around with glowing rectangles in our pockets, feeding the machines, saying "thank you" to voices that don't have lungs. Maybe Robert Orin Charles Kilroy wasn't just a character. Maybe he was a warning. On that cold February day forty-three years ago, Styx told us the future was coming, and it was going to be programmed.

Location: Chicago, IL, USA

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