By Asa Williams
Professional Wrestling is, first and foremost, a spectacle. Early wrestlers such as Lou Thesz, Ed ‘Strangler’ Lewis, or British wrestlers like the gargantuan Giant Haystacks, relied upon their stage-presence, charisma, crowd-work and athleticism to build up an atmosphere around their performances, the spectators’ boos and cheers being the primary soundtrack to the spectacle. By the 1950s however, the arrogant and flamboyant heel ‘Gorgeous George’ made his way into the ring to the composer Edward Elgar’s ‘Pomp and Circumstance’, an orchestral piece enhancing his aristocratic persona. His contemporary Mildered Burke also frequently walked out to music. The Sheik, another early heel, would enter the ring accompanied by middle-eastern music, and by the late 1970s, a tag-team called ‘The Fabulous Freebirds’ entered the ring to their eponymous Southern rock anthem. This element of showmanship was unofficial, little-organised and relied on the wrestlers and their promoters creating their own theme music, often having to pay the licensing fees.
However, by 1982 Vince McMahon bought the WWF from his father, and began further infusing the wrestling business with show business. He realised music could make wrestlers larger than life, building audience anticipation, creating characters and making entrances a theatrical event. Originally McMahon merged wrestling with contemporary pop culture, demonstrated by Hulk Hogan and then mega popular musician Cyndi Lauper’s mutual promotion in and out the ring. The surge of mainstream attention ignited wrestling’s Golden Era. And with a golden era came gilded music. McMahon hired composer Jim Johnston in 1985 to create entrance themes for wrestlers (called “superstars” in official WWE parlance then and now). This led to the Golden Era of wrestling and McMahon hired composer Jim Johnston in 1985, to create entrance themes. These would become cinematic scores communicating the persona, story and threat of the wrestler striding towards the ring. Each era in wrestling demonstrated different tenants of the time, ones defined as much by the spectators and those within the ring. This article focuses on the Theme songs that most embodied their respective eras, and through that a nation’s zeitgeist.
The Golden Era (1984-1993): ‘Real American’ by Rick Derringer
The Golden Era was when wrestling truly came of age in American popular culture. Vince McMahon’s vision and ambition took the niche sport into a wider focus, wrestlers appearing in cartoons, movies, commercials and on national television. He shattered the “territory system” of smaller regional promotion, turning professional wrestling into “sports entertainment” under the WWE (then WWF) banner. This expansion required larger than life stars, over-the-top personas and spectacles and outlandish but morally simple story lines. ‘Macho Man’ Randy Savage, The Ultimate Warrior, Andre the Giant and Roddy Piper all exemplified the need for real-life superheroes. The ongoing Cold War and Gulf War, amid political inequality and instability, meant that America required heroes. And there was no hero like Hulk Hogan, walking out to ‘Real American’.
The song represented everything 80s wrestling, and everything 80s America: in-your-face nationalism and grandiose pretenses of championing morality and freedom against the supposed demonic other, be it communists or Gulf War Iraqi sympathizers. The song painted a black and white concept of good and evil, firmly placing Hogan and America by extension as on the side of good, prepared to sacrifice for moral beliefs; ‘I stand strong about right and wrong’. In the light of the Cold War the line ‘I fight for the rights of every man’, shows America’s role as the world’s security, protecting others in the name of freedom or profits for hegemonic corporations (same difference, right?). Real American wasn’t just Hogan’s entry song, it was also an anthem the character embodied in kayfabe (the in-story reality of wrestling).
The WWF often opposed Hogan to ‘foreign’ heels during this era. The Iron Sheik and Nikolai Volkoff represented Iran and the Soviet Union respectively, and Sergeant Slaughter briefly defected from the US to team with General Adnan (the late Adnan Al-Kaissie) to represent Iraq during the Gulf War. These storylines created a microcosm of America-centric global politics within the wrestling ring. With Hogan’s “demandments” of saying prayers, taking vitamins, and saying prayers, his massive physique and movie-star appeal, he had become an embodiment of how America wanted to see itself: strong, virile, and righteous. Hogan’s theme wasn’t so much an entrance song as a hymn as to what every American wanted themselves to be.
New Generation Era (1993-1997): ‘Diesel Blues’ by Jim Johnston
The New Generation era was a transitional period, one reflecting struggles within both wrestling and the US. With the stars of the Golden Era leaving and fading, the WWE faced competition from the WCW and had been rocked by scandal. In the early 90s, former WWE employees alleged they were brought on as ring boys (essentially the wrestling version of stage hands) as part of a sexual abuse racket. Then in 1992 McMahon had been accused of providing steroids to his wrestlers. This led to the WWE introducing a drug-testing policy and a move away from the comic-book physiques of the 1980s.
Wrestlers like Bret Hart and Shawn Michaels were smaller than the prior crop of stars, and far more technical. Yet for every success, there were a dozen infamous failures like multicolor space android Max Moon, evil dentist Isaac Yankem, and an anthropomorphic bull named Mantaur.
Amid the constant misfires and resulting smaller crowds, the physique-obsessed McMahon spotted a giant: 6’ 10” Kevin Nash, who McMahon would package as a Detroit street tough named Diesel. The Diesel character’s theme epitomised this gritty feel. He was a huge man and the minimalist, industrial piece of music he walked out to conveyed the power and ominous threat of a massive, no-nonsense brawler. This slow, methodical, confident, and dominant track existed in contrast to the upbeat “do-gooder” soundtracks like “Real American.”
Musically, grunge had supplanted glam-rock in the charts by the mid-90s and the stripped-back and gritty sound of Nirvana, Pearl Jam, and Alice in Chains could be heard in this slow and moody theme. The bluesy guitar and unmistakable truck revving symbolised a working-class aesthetic, an everyday hero pushing back against the cartoonish, ‘good and bad’ wrestlers of the Golden Era as well as contemporaneous performers like an underwear-stealing magician.
Attitude Era (1997-2002): ‘Glass Shatters’ by Jim Johnston
By 1997, WWE was a business in decline. Ted Turner’s WCW was winning the battle for ratings, attendance, and the burgeoning space of internet hype with the white-hot nWo storyline. McMahon pivoted away from the New Generation cavalcade of pig farmers, garbage men, and anachronistic cowboys in favor of a wrestling product borrowing from grunge culture, reality TV, video games and concurrent cinema to create an era defined by lewd anti-authority figures
If the New Generation era had attempted to give a voice to the American working classes, the Attitude era embodied their real-life frustration with corporate American and authority figures. More broadly, miasmatic ennui pervaded American culture and was expressed comedically in films like Office Space (1999) and violently in films like Fight Club (1999). These issues were reflected in the Attitude Era’s grittier, harsher storylines. Perhaps most infamously, one angle involved decorated strongman and weightlifter Mark Henry (given the abysmal wrestling moniker “Sexual Chocolate”) impregnating the elderly Mae Young only for her to give birth to a disembodied hand. McMahon himself got more involved, legitimately taking Bret Hart’s title from him in the legendary 1997 “Montreal Screwjob,” purportedly resulting in a real fight between Hart and McMahon. Wrestling suddenly became more real than fans had believed in a long time.
Nobody displayed the sudden and severe change in wrestling and culture more than Stone Cold Steve Austin. This beer-drinking hellraiser, middle-finger raised, beers aloft embodied many of the new tenants of WWE. Alongside the profanity and alcohol were more extreme violence like crucifixion, hanging, and a home invasion resulting in an implied attempted murder with a firearm. Stone Cold’s theme fit the vibe perfectly. The shattering glass start symbolised destruction, rebellion and unpredictability, turning the ring into a bar fight. This theme was raw, fast and aggressive, the distorted guitar giving it a ferocious garage-rock energy. It was minimalist, just like Austin who famously wore modest ring attire compared to the likes of wrestlers like Goldust and The Undertaker., The theme was not designed to entertain, it was there to intimidate. There is no subtlety, just aggressive unrelenting noise, music symbolising brawling and chaos. It drew upon the nu-metal of the late 90s and embodied the wanton aggression and destruction of the attitude era.
Ruthless Aggression Era (2002-2008): ‘I Walk Alone’ by Saliva.
WWE’s 2001 acquisition of its competitor WCW heralded the end of the Attitude Era. Just one year later, Stone Cold Steve Austin would suddenly and acrimoniously depart the promotion. A host of new superstars would debut in the early-mid noughties. Wrestlers like John Cena, Brock Lesnar, Randy Orton and Beth Phoenix competed in more athletic and technical matches, marketed as professional sports with less blood and violence than the early 2000s. WWE occasionally revisited sordid topics but often with derision from fans such as when Triple H (now WWE Chief Content Officer Paul Levesque) in-storyline disguised himself to sleep with a dead woman and sniff her underwear in order to frame another wrestler.
Batista was the powerhouse enforcer of this era and once he split from the Evolution stable (a stable is wrestling parlance for a faction) in 2005, he shot to main-event status. His trademark ‘machine-gun’ entry matched his intensity, raw charisma and complimented his gargantuan physique. He would become one of the faces of the Ruthless Aggression Era, feuding with John Cena, Triple H and the Undertaker. His physique belied his agility and wrestling skills, the combination of which made him a multiple-time World Heavyweight Champion.
Batista’s theme song ‘I Walk Alone’ exemplified the components of the era. Rather than the chaos of ‘Glass Shatters’, this was a clear message of independence and power, the distorted riffs and aggressive vocals reflecting Batista’s powerhouse style. Unlike the factions of the Attitude Era (DX, The Nation of Domination, etc), this new era was defined by individualism, personal conflict, and the long process of proving oneself. ‘I Walk Alone’ was not just a theme, it was a mantra. Stone Cold and DX had been forced to break rules and defy authority for their success, in this new era it had to be earnt. Batista’s entry itself fit the song and his story arc, a slow deliberate entrance, the explosive pyros and the huge sound of the guitars as he made his deliberate way to the ring embodied the core tenants of the Ruthless Aggression Era. There was less chaos, less unpredictability, just powerhouses heading to the ring to assert dominance.
PG Era (2008-2014): ‘Special Op’ by Jim Johnston.
WWE became a publicly traded company at the height of the Attitude Era in late 1999. The promotion would slowly clean up its programming over the next decade in order to attract major sponsors and TV deals, as well as reduce the possibility of scandal for Linda McMahon’s senate campaign (she would end up becoming Secretary of Education in 2025 – God bless America).
The company had realised that younger fans were the most profitable demographic, so the entire palette of content was suited to what advertisers deemed appropriate for younger tastes. This meant no swearing, no blood, no adult content, an emphasis on simple comedy gimmicks and a shift towards ‘sports entertainment’ rather than wrestling.
Much like the Golden Era, simple lessons of ‘good and cil’, of perseverance and underdogs were the subjects of the storylines. John Cena clad in multicolor “Fruity Pebbles” street garb dominated the era, his basic positive messages perfect for branding. This era also featured Rey Mysterio’s acrobatic flamboyance and CM Punk’s menacing and at times kayfabe-bending presence.
But it was Cena who became the true breakout star, moving mountains of merchandise and securing Hollywood roles like starring in the series Peacemaker.
The wave of cheap platitudes hearkening back to “take your vitamins and say your prayers” of the 80s as well as the similarly predictable booking (Cena squashes everyone not unlike Hulk Hogan did) alienated many traditional fans, however.
A stable called The Shield debuted in 2012, composed of Roman Reigns, Seth Rollins and Dean Ambrose, all dressed in black riot gear and with a mission to ‘fight injustice’ in WWE. Athletic, unified, and operating with military efficiency the group represented a changing of the guard and a shift towards in-ring workrate. Their bond felt real, devoid of gimmicks, and allowed them to create a lasting legacy, each member becoming a WWE world champion.
For wrestling itself though, the overly sanitised and childlike storylines alienated traditional fans. The Shield’s theme embodied the end of this era. This entry song invoked a shift away from the overly polished PG era, the paramilitary tone suggesting a tactical, non-theatrical advance. The group’s black riot gear was understated, reinforcing the idea that they had arrived to dismantle the system. Their threatening presentation was a clear rejection of the PG tone, they weren’t there to entertain, they were there to intimidate. By 2013 WWE was shifting away from bombastic entrance themes, and The Shield’s entry personified both the culmination and end of the PG Era.
Reality Era (2014-2016): ‘Flight of the Valkyries’ originally composed by Richard Wagner and remixed by Jim Johnston.
By the 2010s social media, podcasts, YouTube channels, subreddits, and the wider internet allowed fans to know what was happening behind the scenes almost as fast as the wrestlers themselves. WWE began leaning into reality based storytelling again. Wrestlers from indie circuits or overseas, like Daniel Bryan or Asuka, came to the forefront.
Fans also began to revolt. Loudly.
Fans endlessly booed the anointed face of the company Roman Reigns, feeling he was being forced upon them as Cena had been. They cheered heels and heckled faces, attempting to stamp their own influence upon the storylines. Longtime fans elevated technical wrestling master Daniel Bryan, cheering with such intensity night after night that the company worked Bryan into upper levels of the storylines. Daniel Bryan’s theme was a remix of ‘Ride of the Valkyries’, turned into ‘Flight of the Valkyries’. The rock-classic blend mirrored the reality era, the indie sound of rock meeting the traditional pomp of classical music. The uniqueness of the music was, like many of the indie wrestlers on the circuit, unique and unexpected, but it worked. The crowd would come alive chanting Bryan’s simple catchphrase of ‘Yes! Yes! Yes!’, pointing towards the man they felt should be the face of WWE. In any other era a small, quiet, indie wrestler could not have hoped to become champion. But in the reality era, the fans could point to the athlete who they wanted to lead the corporation. His authentic underdog energy led a fan rebellion, his theme a protest anthem against the backstage politics of the WWE and a refusal to conform to authority.
New Era into the Modern Era (2016-Present): ‘The Head of the Table’ by def rebel.
The New Era was a time of rebuilding, expanding the horizons of wrestling, improving the performances within the ring. WWE launched UK championships in 2017, and began more earnestly recruiting from a global talent pool. The inclusivity continued with the evolution of the Women’s division, dropping the hideously dated term ‘Diva’ to refer to women wrestlers. Shortly afterwards, women women began main-eventing Raw, Smackdown and finally Wrestlemania itself, with Becky Lynch defeating Ronda Rousey and Charlotte Flair to win the title at Wrestlemania 35 in 2019. Gimmicks were (mostly) dropped in the favor of wrestling ability.
Roman Reigns, formerly a pariah of the fans, had also evolved. By 2021 he had become the heelish and dominant ‘Tribal Chief’ and fans responded positively. The rebrand came with a new theme. ‘Head of the Table’ embodied the true evolution of the New Era, the slow build of the music reflecting his steady rise to the top, the sound symbolizing the shift towards storytelling, prestige and cinematic gravitas (or at least pro wrestling’s attempts at such). Unlike many of the other songs discussed, it builds slowly, commanding respect not excitement. Within this song he is untouchable by the fans, unlike the Reality Era, his song makes him not the people’s champion but elevates him into a monarch like figure. Due to the pandemic, many of these themes had to be able to convey a sense of drama and occasion without crowds, and this cinematic presentation allowed us to understand the raw power and presence of Reigns. His entrance is as much an event as the wrestling itself. The drums are a tribute to Reigns’ Samoan heritage, expressing the WWE’s new embrace of international and nuanced representation.
Theme songs have been an integral part of the WWE for nearly eighty years. From the earliest days of Gorgeous George’s classical compositions to Tyler Breeze’s electro-pop, it has allowed a tone to be set before the wrestler has ever placed foot in the ring. Be it the patriotism of Hulk Hogan or the subversion of Stone Cold, music allows the crowd to understand who the wrestler and what they stand for. Perhaps more importantly, these songs are often a window into the artistic and cultural zeitgeist of the nation. And, of course, they’re also fun to listen to.
Asa Williams is a Franco-British writer and researcher whose work explores the intersections of literature, music, and counterculture. Currently completing a PhD at the University of East Anglia, his thesis Rock’n’Roll Rimbaud examines the influence of Arthur Rimbaud on twentieth-century American music, from the Beat poets to punk. He has spoken at conferences across Europe and the UK, and his creative writing has been shortlisted for the Merky New Writers’ Prize and published in various books and journals. A former student of Classics at Durham University, Van Mildert College, he also writes poetry and are developing a folklore-inspired anthology. This is alongside spending far too much time in the gym and chasing some heavy stone lifts. Please check on his music-poetry project The Leadfoots, at @the_leadfoots.
