On May 8, 2004, Scott Hall and Kevin Nash made their entrance in the Yokohama Arena for the main event of HUSTLE’s HUSTLE-3 show. They sauntered down the long entrance ramp—Hall incorporating his trademark Razor Ramon strut—with a pair of lovely ladies, all while Fugees’ “Ready or Not” pumped out over the sound system. Hall entered the ring and smoothed his graying hair as he grooved to Lauryn Hill’s sultry vocals. As Nash raised his fist, Hall pumped his thumbs towards his chest and outstretched his arms in his classic pose. He was a ways away from his heyday in the 90s, first as Razor in the WWF and then as a member of the business-changing nWo in WCW. He also had another decade of addiction issues in front of him. And yet, during that entrance in that giant arena in Yokohama, there was no doubt that Scott Hall was still the coolest man in wrestling.
That was the common descriptor in the titanic amount of tributes that came pouring in when the news of Hall’s death broke on Monday evening: Cool.
Scott Hall was cool. Effortlessly, agelessly cool. End of story. You can debate the quality of his in-ring work, whether or not he deserved to be a world champion, his attitude backstage. People love to dissect such things in the wake of a wrestler’s passing. But there is no debating that Scott Hall was one of the coolest guys to ever step into a wrestling ring. He looked cool, he sounded cool, he acted cool, he had cool pyro, he had a cool finisher. He was so cool that as Razor Ramon he was a white guy playing a Latino and got a pass for it.
razor ramon was so cool that when all the latinos found out he was actually a white guy we were all still like “so what we don’t care” and just kept right on doing the razor’s edge on each other into pools and onto mattresses
— Shea Serrano (@SheaSerrano) March 15, 2022
And then there’s the music. Naturally as the host of Music of the Mat, a wrestling music podcast, I’ve got an inclination towards entrance themes. And looking at Scott Hall’s career, there’s no mistaking that the man had some absolutely killer entrance music. Sure, Hall probably could’ve just walked out to no music, a toothpick between his lips, and still come across like a superstar (which he actually did for a time as “The Lone Wolf” in late ’98 WCW). But a cool guy deserves cool music; it’s not just the cherry on top of the sundae, it’s the warm chocolate sauce that brings the whole dish together.
Therefore it’s hard to imagine Razor Ramon without his theme “Bad Boy.”
The screeching tires at the start (years before Mick Foley made that sound effect popular at the start of his own theme) give way to a percussion-heavy, pseudo-Latin beat that perfectly matches Razor’s strut. The screeching tires and the 80s synth in the refrain conjure up an image of a convertible cruising down the street with the warm Miami sunset as its backdrop. Look around and you’ll see a plethora of bright colors, many of which are also on Razor Ramon’s gear. For a character that is meant to be a Tony Montana knock-off, it’s a great choice of sound.
Keen ears recognize the rhythm as being eerily similar to the Eagles’ song “Those Shoes” off the album The Long Run. It’s one of the better Eagles grooves that the band produced, and it’s leaned into even more heavily with Hall’s TNA theme “Marvelous Me.”
Eschewing the latin tinges for a straight-up rock anthem (a smart choice given Hall was no longer portraying a Cuban), “Marvelous Me” lays it on thick with heavy guitars, pounding percussion, and plenty of boastful lyrics that paint Scott Hall as the main character of wrestling.
My arms are as big as mountains
My eyes are as cold as ice
My legs are as fast as a stallion
Racing the big blue sky
As we prepare for the battle
We hear the judge’s bell
One thing you can count on
Everywhere you turn you’ll see marvelous me
Everywhere you turn you’ll see marvelous me
The song, while not the first Scott Hall theme that comes to mind for many (unless your name is Garrett Kidney), is a personal favorite of mine. I love the cocky Don Henley-esque vocals and the soaring chorus. It’s a big colorful song for a big colorful personality, and lord knows Hall had that in spades.
Not all of Hall’s themes were rip-offs of an Eagles song. They ripped off other songs too.
For example, do you remember The Outsiders’ first entrance theme in WCW? Not the nWo theme, we’ll get to that momentarily. I’m referring to the theme they used at Bash at the Beach 1996 for the infamous six-man tag where it was revealed that Hulk Hogan was the third man. Hall and Nash used the PPV theme as their own, a song called “Crazed” by Derek Todd Sorensen.
It’s a rock instrumental take on Seal’s “Crazy” (the title kinda gives that away). They only used it once, but it’s another personal favorite of mine, and damn if that specific guitar tone doesn’t scratch my itch.
Anyway, Hall, Nash, and Hogan quickly moved on to the proper nWo theme, “Rockhouse” by Frank Shelley.
The song is one of the most memorable in wrestling history, not only because it’s associated with the nWo, but because they practically played it on a loop on WCW programming for years! They got their mileage out of it, that’s for sure. A Frankenstein’s monster of Jimi Hendrix samples, including bits from “Hey Joe,” “Highway Chile,” “The Stars That Play with Laughing Sam’s Dice,” “Stone Free,” and “Purple Haze,” the theme is impactful, yet never chaotic. It’s a measured onslaught that gradually overpowers you, much like the nWo themselves. (It’s nWo Japan counterpart, “Crash,” lives up to its name by being the more frenetic of the two themes.) Once again, the pacing fits Hall like a glove. He and the nWo weren’t racing out with every entrance like wildmen. They took their time because they were in control.
On the other side of the pillow was the nWo Wolfpac theme.
Putting their own spin on “Burn” by Militia, the trio of Jimmy Hart, Howard Helm, and C-Murder made a theme that was a completely different genre than “Rockhouse,” but no less cool. (In fact, depending on who you ask, it was probably cooler.) The wolf howl is a famous opening in its own right, as is the “Don’t turn your back on the Wolfpac, you might wind up in a bodybag” refrain. C-Murder’s laissez-faire rap style also meshes well with Hall and Nash’s own casual attitudes. Who cares if he sounds half asleep while spitting bars that somehow rhyme “destruction” with “wrestling”? Just throw up the too sweet, pop the crowd, and count the money.
Speaking of hip hop, this brings us to the final theme of note, the one I mentioned at the beginning of this piece: “Ready or Not” by Fugees.
Hall and Nash would actually come out to this song on WCW house shows (which is a baller move in its own right), then afterward Hall used it in places like ECW and New Japan. With a groove that perfectly matches Hall’s gait (he really did have a knack for using songs like that), Lauryn Hill sets the tone with the menacingly beautiful opening lines that double as chorus.
Ready or not, here I come, you can’t hide
Gonna find you and take you slowly
The ominous warning coated in a sultry voice really sums it all up. Scott Hall may be cool as a cucumber, but don’t mistake his nonchalance for peacefulness. The “Bad Guy” is always right under the surface, waiting to strike with a solid punch, a Fallaway Slam, and the Razor’s Edge.
Plus it’s just an awesome song in its own right.
These songs weren’t Hall’s only entrance themes; he also had songs like “Born in the USA” by Bruce Springsteen, “Red Tape” by Agent Provocateur, and “Wild One,” the Diamond Studd theme, among a few others. It’s safe to say though that when it comes to the well-known themes that I listed, Scott Hall had some of the coolest, most iconic music in wrestling history. It didn’t matter if they were knockoffs of popular songs or if the production wasn’t A+ caliber. The songs worked because he helped make them work, and vice versa.
Sadly I never got to watch Scott Hall at the peak of his powers as Razor Ramon or in the nWo in real time. The Hall that I grew up with was the troubled man struggling with his demons. Thankfully he was able to get control of his life and achieve some personal redemption in his final years. It’s a tragedy that he died at the age of 63, but as the past few days of tributes have shown us, the memories—and the music—will always play on.
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