Eddie Money was basically on the verge of falling apart in 1982. If you look at the cover of the Eddie Money No Control album, he looks a bit haggard, maybe a little too "lived-in" for a guy who was supposed to be the next big pop-rock heartthrob. But that’s exactly why the record works. It’s gritty. It’s loud. It’s the sound of a guy who had tasted the top of the charts with "Two Tickets to Paradise" and then nearly lost his life to a fentanyl-laced barbiturate overdose that left him with temporary nerve damage in his left leg.
He couldn't even walk when he started putting this together. Think about that for a second.
Most people remember the "Take Me Home Tonight" era—the polished, MTV-friendly Eddie with the feathered hair. But the Eddie Money No Control album is a different beast entirely. It represents a pivot point where the Brooklyn-born ex-cop had to prove he wasn't just a flash in the pan before the drugs took him out for good. It’s an album fueled by desperation and a strange, manic energy that you just don't hear in modern, over-produced rock.
The Gritty Context of No Control
By the time 1982 rolled around, the music industry was changing fast. Synthesizers were starting to bleed into everything. New Wave was king. Eddie, however, stayed stuck in that classic, bar-band-on-steroids sound.
He brought in Tom Dowd to produce. If you don't know Dowd, the guy was a legend—he worked with everyone from Aretha Franklin to Eric Clapton and Lynyrd Skynyrd. Dowd didn't want a "clean" record. He wanted the dirt. He wanted the rasp in Eddie's voice that sounded like he’d been screaming at a wall for ten hours.
That rasp is the soul of "Shakin'."
Honestly, "Shakin'" might be the most perfect rock song of that year. It’s got that greasy, strutting riff and lyrics about a girl named Rosanna who makes the singer’s knees shake. It’s simple. It’s primal. But more importantly, it felt real. When Eddie sings about his "pink carnation and a pickup truck," he isn't playing a character. He was that guy.
The Eddie Money No Control album peaked at number 20 on the Billboard 200. Not bad for a guy who, months earlier, was told he might never perform again.
Breaking Down the Tracks (Beyond the Hits)
Everyone knows "Shakin'" and "Think I'm in Love." Those were the MTV staples. But the deeper cuts on this record tell a much darker, more interesting story about a man trying to outrun his demons.
Take the title track, "No Control." It’s basically a confession.
- The tempo is frantic.
- The lyrics talk about being "too far gone" and "losing it."
- The guitar work by Jimmy Lyon is sharp enough to cut glass.
Lyon is the unsung hero here. His chemistry with Eddie was like a blue-collar version of Jagger and Richards. On tracks like "Take a Little Bit" and "Keep My Motor Runnin'," Lyon provides this muscular, bluesy backbone that keeps the album from drifting into the cheesy power-ballad territory that eventually swallowed much of 80s rock.
Then there’s "Passing Game."
It’s a bit of a departure. It’s slower, more melodic, almost moody. It shows a vulnerability that Eddie usually hid behind his "Money Man" persona. You can hear the physical toll of his recovery in the way he stretches out the notes. It’s not perfect singing—it’s emotional singing. There’s a huge difference.
Why the Critics Were Wrong (And Right)
At the time, some critics dismissed Eddie as a "meat-and-potatoes" rocker. They thought he was too pedestrian compared to the art-rock coming out of the UK or the burgeoning hair metal scene in LA.
📖 Related: Mike McCrum Time Travel: What Really Happened with the Viral Theory
They missed the point.
The Eddie Money No Control album wasn't trying to reinvent the wheel. It was trying to keep the wheel from falling off the axle. It’s a survival record. If you listen to "Drivin' Me Crazy," you're hearing a guy who is genuinely stressed out. The production is dry and upfront. No massive 80s reverb drowning out the drums. Just a kit, a bass, a guitar, and a guy screaming his heart out.
Interestingly, this was the first time Eddie really embraced the music video medium. The video for "Think I'm in Love" used a "Dracula" theme—kinda goofy, sure—but it showed he had a sense of humor about himself. He wasn't some untouchable rock god; he was just Eddie from Brooklyn.
The Legacy of the No Control Era
Why should anyone care about this album in 2026?
Because rock and roll has become too safe. Everything is gridded to perfection in Pro Tools. Every vocal is pitch-corrected until it sounds like a cyborg. The Eddie Money No Control album is the exact opposite of that. It’s messy. It’s loud. It’s a little bit out of tune in places, and that is exactly where the magic lives.
It also marked the end of an era for Money. After this, his sound started to get more polished. He had more hits, sure, but he never quite captured that raw, "I might die tomorrow" energy again. This was his comeback, his redemption, and his peak all rolled into one thirty-minute slab of vinyl.
If you’re a fan of guitar-driven rock that doesn't apologize for being basic, you have to go back to this one. It’s a masterclass in how to use your limitations to your advantage. Eddie couldn't walk right, he was recovering from addiction, and his voice was shot—and he turned all of that into a Platinum record.
Actionable Ways to Experience No Control Today
Don't just stream it on a tinny phone speaker. That's a disservice to Tom Dowd's production. To really get what made this album a staple of 1982, you need to hear the dynamic range.
Find an original vinyl pressing. The 1980s Columbia Records pressings are surprisingly high-quality and can usually be found in bargain bins for under fifteen bucks. The low end on "Shakin'" needs that analog warmth to really hit your chest.
Listen to the 1982 King Biscuit Flower Hour live recordings. If you want to hear how these songs translated to the stage during the tour for this album, those live bootlegs are essential. Eddie sounds absolutely possessed on stage during this period.
Watch the music videos for context. Look past the 80s hair and the cheesy sets. Look at Eddie's eyes. You can see a guy who is just happy to be alive and playing music again. It adds a layer of weight to the lyrics that you might otherwise miss.
Compare it to his self-titled debut. Listen to "Two Tickets to Paradise" and then listen to "No Control" back-to-back. You’ll hear how the innocence of the late 70s evaporated and was replaced by the hard-edged reality of the early 80s.
The Eddie Money No Control album isn't just a collection of songs. It’s a document of a human being hitting rock bottom and bouncing back with a guitar in his hand. It’s loud, it’s proud, and it’s arguably the most honest work he ever put to tape.