When Pope John Paul II Met A Lost Rock Album
In the late 70s, few would have predicted that Pope John Paul II music would help create a lost rock album. Yet that is essentially what happened to TKO’s debut Let It Roll, a record that arrived just as the world was distracted by disco and an unlikely burst of papal folk songs. Singer Brad Sinsel had poured years of work into TKO, a band rooted in Yakima and sharpened on the Seattle circuit before securing management linked with Heart and a substantial studio budget. But timing is ruthless. While listeners and media fixated on novelty and cultural spectacle – including the surreal idea of a pontiff releasing music – a lean, hook‑stuffed hard‑rock gem slipped through the cracks, becoming a classic rock music history story of an album overshadowed by events far outside its own scene.
Why Let It Roll Deserved To Win The Fight For Ears
What makes this rock album overshadowed by papal fanfare so enduring is how confidently it hits that The Who Cheap Trick style sweet spot. Let It Roll is packed with tight, radio‑ready songs: the bouncy power‑pop of Gutter Boy, the cowbell‑driven surge of the title track, the Journey‑meets‑The‑Knack sheen of Only Love and the climactic closer Rock ’N’ Roll Again. Critics point to Sinsel’s sand‑blasted voice as the secret weapon, a glass‑shard growl astonishingly powerful for a 23‑year‑old and easily comparable with the major frontmen of the era. Underneath, Rick Pierce’s guitars and pomp‑tinged keyboards deliver a mix of hard‑rock crunch and glam swagger that feels “black leather jacket and dangling cigarette” cool rather than guilty‑pleasure AOR. Deep cut Bad Sister, with its Aerosmith‑style sleaze, even planted seeds for Andrew Wood’s later Mother Love Bone sound, proving the album’s long shadow on rock creativity.
How Timing And Marketing Let The Pope Steal The Spotlight
Let It Roll took over a hundred grand and two painstaking years to craft, a classic case of 70s big‑rock ambition colliding with a fast‑shifting landscape. By the time TKO finally released their debut, 1979’s airwaves were saturated with disco experiments by Blondie, Kiss, Rod Stewart and even Kenny Rogers. Labels and radio were chasing dance‑floor trends and cultural novelties, including Pope John Paul II music that fascinated press and casual listeners simply because it existed at all. Against that backdrop, marketing a straight‑up, guitar‑driven record became an uphill battle. The papal folk release fit perfectly into news cycles and human‑interest segments; a hungry rock band from Yakima did not. The lesson for rock music history is brutal but clear: external cultural phenomena – especially those with built‑in media intrigue – can warp attention so completely that even a great album never gets a fair hearing.
Other Times Culture Sideswiped Rock Releases
TKO’s experience isn’t an isolated rock music history story; it’s part of a recurring pattern where non‑musical waves swamp rock campaigns. Major news shocks can freeze playlists and press coverage overnight. Viral moments or controversial imagery, like the fascist and swastika flirtations dissected in Daniel Rachel’s book This Ain’t Rock ’n’ Roll, often hijack music conversations, pushing more conventional rock albums off the agenda while fans and journalists argue over symbolism and ethics instead. Unexpected releases by superstar artists can have a similar effect, suddenly dominating shelf space, radio rotations and editorial bandwidth. In each case, it’s not that the overshadowed records are weaker; they are simply outgunned by the gravitational pull of bigger cultural stories. Let It Roll stands as a vivid reminder that rock careers are shaped not only by riffs and choruses, but by whatever else the world happens to be talking about that week.
How To Hear The Buried Gem Today
For listeners curious about this rock album overshadowed by a pope, Let It Roll is now far easier to find than it was on release. Search for TKO on major streaming platforms and start with the title track to feel that The Who Cheap Trick style blend of power‑pop hooks and hard‑rock muscle. Follow with Gutter Boy and Only Love for the bright, radio‑friendly side, then dive into Bad Sister to hear the Aerosmith‑esque sleaze that later inspired Andrew Wood’s Love Rock direction. Approach it as both a time capsule and a what‑if: what if rock radio hadn’t been consumed by disco experiments and papal folk intrigue that season? Framed against other albums sidelined by shifting trends or louder cultural controversies, Let It Roll becomes more than a cult favorite – it’s a case study in how great records can slip between the gears of history.