“If You Can’t Lick ’Em… Lick ’Em” – Ted Nugent (1988)
Banned in aerobics studios. Quoted in locker rooms. Misunderstood by fitness instructors everywhere.

It’s 1988. A year of big hair, bigger personalities, and fashion choices that left little to the imagination. Enter Ted Nugent, an unapologetic wild man of rock, not with a guitar riff, but with an album that left the world scratching its collective head and raising a brow. The album title, If You Can’t Lick ’Em… Lick ’Em, wasn’t just provocative—it was a fist-pounding statement. One that got the world of fitness—and the mainstream—by surprise.

 Critics at the time didn’t know what to make of it. Was it a macho manifesto? A romantic declaration? Or a primal scream wrapped in sweatbands and lip gloss? Nugent wasn’t one to shy away from controversy, and this record was as brash as his personality. “Part macho manifesto, part erotic uppercut,” was how one writer described it. They weren’t wrong. With lyrics that could’ve doubled as the soundtrack to a feverish 80s workout tape, Nugent took his classic “Wildman” persona to uncharted, and perhaps, uncomfortable places. It was a collision of rock, sexuality, and bizarrely, fitness culture.

 The album cover? Oh, that’s a whole separate saga. Picture a boxing ring, a neon glow, and a figure that seems to defy both fashion and sanity. The bold imagery was so shocking that it led to a near-immediate ban in three Midwestern malls and at a Navy PX. Rumor has it a pastor in Ohio fainted upon seeing it. Can you blame him? There was nothing subtle about it, and that’s exactly the point.

Despite the uproar, Lick ’Em became something of an underground classic. Love it or loathe it, there’s no denying that it redefined the concept of “rock album.” It was like watching a music video directed by a feverish Richard Simmons, but with guitars, sweat, and a lot of muscle. It was as if Nugent had stepped into a time machine from the 70s and landed in an 80s fitness craze, only to be smacked in the face by rock ’n’ roll with a side of muscle-bound excess.

Nugent wasn’t just selling music; he was selling an attitude. Whether you were lifting weights or lifting eyebrows, this album was for you. A love letter to the primal and the unrestrained, If You Can’t Lick ’Em… Lick ’Em remains undefeated in the “albums that look like a music video directed by a feverish Richard Simmons” category. An audacious, unapologetic ride through testosterone-fueled fantasies, it’s a record that still holds the power to shock, entertain, and possibly even confuse—but always to make you feel something.