Fiona Shepherd: the soft rock dinosaurs that time never forgot

I'll admit it – I came late to the joys of soft rock. Back in the early/mid-1980s, when poodle rock dinosaurs roamed the earth, my too-cool-for-school music tastes required that I could never give the time of day to a bunch of bloated old AOR losers fixated on the size of their synthesisers.

But Boston's More Than A Feeling and Rainbow's Since You Been Gone have a way of lying in wait, then pouncing at a point in your life when you no longer care if a particular genre, band or song is trendy. In fact, it is its very lack of self-consciousness which makes the melodic rock anthem so appealing.

I can't point to any moment of personal epiphany, although a Journey concert in early 2007 probably helped seal the deal with its unabashed fidelity to a bygone style. One song in particular stood out. But we'll get to that later.

The term "soft rock" has been around almost as long as it's been possible to identify what rock music is, but the particular sub-genre with which we are concerned here is the one which came to fruition on the cusp of the 1980s and hung around the charts, as if punk really hadn't happened, until about the middle of that decade.

Most of the groups who fit the bill – your REO Speedwagons, your Chicagos – started out as hard rock or blues rock bands in the 1970s before mellowing into their thirties and becoming seduced by multi-part arrangements and the glossy production sheen which coated so much of commercial rock music at the time, where a huge keyboard sound was valued just as much, if not more, than a guitar solo.

Although classic metal bands such as Iron Maiden and Judas Priest – both coming to an arena near you this summer – have never lacked melody, their soft rock cousins placed it centre stage and weren't afraid to get in touch with their feminine side. As far as lyrical subject matter was concerned, the soft rock bands were more about bleeding hearts than bleeding entrails. Let's just come right out and say it: they loved a power ballad as much as they relished a fist-pumping anthem. Take your pick from Speedwagon's Can't Fight This Feeling, Chicago's Hard To Say I'm Sorry, Toto's Rosanna, Journey's incredibly drippy Open Arms and Styx's even soppier Babe – all are fine examples of this naff, overwrought, epic art, crowned by the all-important tidal wave of a chorus delivered by lead singers with a tremendous rock screamer capacity.

The best known of these big-haired belters, such as Journey's Steve Perry and Foreigner's Lou Gramm, have long since departed the scene to be replaced by younger models with lungs like bellows and more luxurious locks. Mighty though those original vocalists were, the brand is bigger than the band. In the kingdom of soft rock, it is the songs which rule and – ironically, given that most of these acts would consider themselves to be albums bands – that's something that will resonate with anyone who loves a bit of iPod shuffle.

"These songs are very demanding," confirms Kelly Hansen, the terribly serious frontman of Foreigner since 2005. "Voices or types of singing go in and out of favour. When grunge came in this kind of voice and this kind of music was not popular and it took time for things to come back around again, as they always do."

"This kind of music" was always a bigger deal in the United States, from where the majority of bands hailed, than in the more trend-conscious UK – we'll see just how much Styx, for example, mean to UK audiences when they join Journey and Foreigner on the soft rock triple bill package tour which hits the SECC later this week. But Hansen is bang on about the cyclical appeal. Even before a certain ubiquitous Journey track became iTunes' biggest selling catalogue song back in 2008, these groups exerted a certain pan-generational appeal. Hansen quaintly notes that "the younger listeners of today" have been turned on to the bombastic strains of soft rock through playing Guitar Hero and the more traditional route of scoping out their dads' record collections.

Journey, more than any of their peers, have reaped the benefits of exposure from unexpected media quarters. Their feelgood juggernaut Don't Stop Believin', which celebrates its 30th birthday this year, became the anachronistic anthem that refused to lay down and sleep with the fishes when it featured in the final scene of The Sopranos in summer 2007.

A couple of years later, it resonated with a whole different market constituency when it was performed by toothsome high school teens in the first episode of Glee, its cheesy but heartfelt sentiment chiming perfectly with the reality TV talent show currency of hopes and dreams.

Foreigner had their all-conquering moment first time round with their massive 1985 chart-topper I Want To Know What Love Is – soft gospel, if you will. But Journey's new wave of recognition must give hope to their peers. Just ask Hansen. "This is not some oldies retro look back in time," he insists. "This is a forward-moving band which is still writing and making records, and still has relevance." That's the spirit, Kelly. Don't stop believing.

Journey, Foreigner and Styx play the SECC, Glasgow, on Thursday

This article was originally published in Scotland on Sunday on June 5th 2011