1980s Pro Wrestling Entrance Themes are Coked-Up Rock Masterpieces
WWF-produced songs evoking each wrestler’s outrageous persona are endearingly campy
In the mid-1980s, the World Wrestling Federation (WWF, now known as WWE) became the first American wrestling company to achieve nationwide, mainstream success. Brash 37-year-old promoter Vince McMahon inherited the WWF from his father in 1982 and transformed a regional quasi-sport known for headlocks and chest hair into a garish, over-the-top spectacle driven by cartoonish storylines and bizarre characters. Nothing better illustrates this shift than the incorporation of entrance music, an innovation that became standard just as the WWF exploded in popularity.
Entrance songs, which are individualized to each performer and created in-house to avoid pesky royalty fees, play throughout the arena while a wrestler struts, stomps, or sprints his or her way to the ring. Faced with the challenge of evoking each wrestler’s outrageous persona within seconds, the songs the WWF produced in the 80s were frantic bursts of brain-dead madness — imagine a catchy TV sitcom theme performed by your local high school’s aspiring hair metal band. They were the perfect mix of surprisingly good and endearingly campy.
The manic music fit an era when wrestlers spouted a steady stream of grandiose nonsense in their interviews and their muscular physiques swelled to grotesque proportions: both gave off a faint aftertaste of cocaine and steroids. The songs seemed fueled by whatever potent narcotic cocktail once inspired “Macho Man” Randy Savage to confide in “Mean” Gene Okerlund, “You know something, maybe I am insane.”
While the simple tunes (crunchy guitar riffs, drum machines, trendy synthesizers, absurd vocals) were mostly intended for children and those with comparable intellects, they possessed shocking lasting power. Two decades later the music remains stuck in the head of a generation of otherwise sane, well-balanced adults. Behold: here are the top five theme songs of 1980s wrestling, musical champions of the era (along with five runners-up that I just couldn’t leave out).
5. Demolition
Demolition is a perfect example of pro wrestling’s opportunistic imitation. Their story starts with The Road Warriors, a widely popular tag team inspired by the post-apocalyptic punks found in George Miller’s Mad Max films. Fans ate it up —but unfortunately for Vince McMahon, they wrestled for the rival NWA promotion. His solution was to create his own version of the barbaric duo in Demolition.
Now I love Demolition as much as the next mildly sad, nostalgic 30-something dude, but, looking back, there’s something hilariously awkward about them. The terrifying Road Warriors intimidated with nihilistic haircuts and wore shoulder pads protruding with deadly spikes. While Demolition’s harlequin face paint and leather chaps strove for menace, but really just conjured unwanted images of S&M cosplay.
The Road Warriors looked like legit killing machines. Demolition looked like middle-aged sex workers.
One area where Demolition stood second to none was their sinister, riff-tastic theme. Credited to rock musician Rick Derringer (who performed several 80s WWF songs), the punishing Demolition theme is a pulpy head-banger. It’s decidedly heavier than most songs from this kid-friendly era and the lyrics are a ponderous, heartfelt treatise on the human experience: “Here comes the Ax / Here comes the Smasher / The Demolition, walking disaster/ Pain and destruction are our middle names.”
4. Dusty Rhodes
Dusty’s late-80s WWF run usually isn’t remembered too fondly, as he went from a huge star in the NWA to a mid-level supporting player. Even worse, he started wearing hideous black and yellow polka dot tights that made him look like something that should hang from the rear-view mirror of a 70s Cadillac. But his entrance song (“Common Man Boogie”) was toe-tapping funk greatness, from the opening cowbell to its guitar solo. But what really sets it apart are the fantastic female vocals. If I ever ran for office, this would be my campaign theme.
3. Jake “The Snake” Roberts
When you think of the 1980s, you think synthesizers, right? And thanks to Stranger Things, it’s a great time to celebrate the much-maligned electronic instrument. Well, no entrance theme took better advantage of synths than Jake Roberts’ “Snake Bit.” The pulsating, up-tempo beat doesn’t stop the song from feeling mysterious and just a bit sinister, much like Roberts himself (who, despite being extremely creepy and walking around with a fucking python snake in a bag, was a beloved fan favorite for much of his career). It would fit perfectly on a John Carpenter soundtrack — listen to it enough and you can’t help but visualize Kurt Russell doing something bad-ass, like, I don’t know, riding a motorcycle at night through an apocalyptic wasteland with sunglasses on while smoking a cigarette. Or whatever.
2. The Ultimate Warrior
Both on-screen and off, The Ultimate Warrior was a force of unbridled madness. Whether projectile vomiting under the spell of a voodoo shaman (wrestling) or nearly inciting a riot at the University of Connecticut with his inflammatory homophobic rhetoric (real life), you could always count on the Warrior to do the unexpected, as well as the completely unnecessary and inappropriate. The line between performer and character was so thin that it’s only fitting that Jim Hellwig, the man behind the Day-Glo face paint, eventually changed his legal name to Warrior.
The opening chords of The Ultimate Warrior’s adrenaline-charged theme produced an extreme physical reaction in which he appeared to become possessed by the ghost of a violent meth addict. Unlike most wrestlers, who took their time soaking up the cheers or boos, the Warrior barreled his way to ringside with the fury of a 1,000 mutant junkies before attacking the ring ropes and shaking them with frightening intensity. This was an odd strategy, as the Warrior’s obscene, muscle-ridden physique left him capable of only so much. You’d think he’d want to save his energy for the match, but, then again, he only knew like four or five actual moves.
Great song, though.
1. Hulk Hogan
Of course. Love him or hate him, the wrestling megastar with the skin of a hot dog had one hell of a fucking entrance song. “Real American” has an ominous, almost new wave opening in which a computerized Rick Derringer whines about patriotic values over moody synth. But before you can even twist down the volume knob and start a hearty “USA! USA!” chant in your horrifically lonely studio apartment, a majestic guitar tears through Derringer’s cries and the song quickly takes flight, soaring higher than a bald eagle chugging a Monster Energy drink. Hogan actually started his WWF career walking down the aisle (presumably whilst simultaneously flexing, wagging his finger, and doing that weird hyperventilating thing) to “Eye of the Tiger,” but no theme has ever fit its performer better than “Real American” fits the Hulkster.
The Runners Up
The Legion of Doom
When The Road Warriors finally decided to jump ship to the WWF and were rechristened The Legion of Doom, they got this gnarly theme that memorably opened with Hawk growling, “UGGHHHNNNN WHAT A RUSH!!!”
Koko B. Ware/The Big Bossman
It’s hard to choose between Koko B. Ware’s gospel-inspired “Bird” and The Big Bossman’s bluesy rocker “Servin’ Hard Time.” Like Dusty’s theme, these are both great sing-a-longs that tell a story while mimicking a style of music that perfectly fits the character.
Rick Rude
Ubiquitous 80s instruments: 1.) Synthesizers. 2.) Shredding, soloing guitars. 3.) The sax. Immortalized in cheesy classics like Wham!’s “Careless Whisper” and Hall & Oates’ “Maneater,” the saxophone was used to invoke a sultry mood that, in retrospect, is basically just fucking dripping with gross sex. WWF star Rick Rude played a crass playboy character who performed unsolicited stripteases for the audience while bragging about his sexual exploits, so his use of David Rose’s “The Stripper” is actually a clever bit of satire.
The Rockers
80s pretty boy tag team The Rockers (best remembered for featuring a young Shawn Michaels) had a more generic version of The Ultimate Warrior’s frenzied, instrumental rock anthem. It strikes me as a fine example of what I call “SEGA Genesis music” — the sort of low-fi electronic rock you’d enjoy while maniacally swinging a chain over your head in Road Rash.
“Million Dollar Man” Ted Dibiase
It’s impossible to think about Ted Dibiase without his unmistakable theme popping into your head. It helps that he literally explains his gimmick in the lyrics (“Some might cost a little/Some might cost a lot/But I’m the ‘Million Dollar Man’/And you will be bought!”), but the evil laughs and constant refrain of “Money money money money moneyyyy!” really drive the point home. That said, it’s a pretty blatant “For the Love of Money” rip-off.
