“I wrote down every chord, from triads to thirteenth chords… played through each one and removed the chords that sounded like shit.”
Vito Bratta, 1989, Guitar World
That, ladies and gentlemen, is how you separate the real musicians from the ones who just read tabs on Ultimate Guitar.
Vito Bratta is, hands down, one of the most criminally underrated guitarists of the ‘80s. While everyone and their mother was busy copying Eddie Van Halen’s tapping, or Yngwie Malmsteen sweeping, Bratta was refining it into something uniquely his own, intricate phrasing, silky-smooth technique, and an ear for melody that could make even a hardened metalhead shed a tear.
Unfortunately, he was overshadowed by hair metal’s more commercially celebrated poster boys, who, let’s be honest, had more Aqua Net than chops.
But make no mistake: Bratta was the real deal. His work with White Lion wasn’t just flashy—it was musical.
So let’s dive into the band’s discography, highlight Bratta’s best moments, and, of course, call out a few questionable lyrical choices along the way.
1987 – Pride
This was the album that put White Lion on the map. It sold over two million copies in the U.S., largely thanks to killer guitar work and MTV exposure. It also proved that underneath all the teased hair and leather jackets, these guys could actually play.
Hungry
A song that could easily be summarized as: “I am horny.” The original demo literally included the lyric “Hungry for your sex”, because subtlety is for cowards.
But let’s talk about the real reason this track rips: Bratta’s insane solo, a masterclass in tapping, whammy-bar gymnastics, and tastefully over-the-top shredding.
Lonely Nights
A heartbreak anthem with a chorus big enough to shake the Aquanet out of your hair. Bratta’s clean arpeggio bridge leading into his melodic tapping solo is pure chef’s kiss. Yes, the “why did you leave me?” lyrics are cliché, but hey, it’s the ‘80s, everything was cliché.
Lady of the Valley
The album’s epic centerpiece. It starts off all moody and mysterious with a haunting D minor riff, then builds into something bigger than Mike Tramp’s vocal range.
Lyrically?
Who knows. Maybe it’s about a healer, maybe it’s about spiritual rebirth, or maybe they just thought “valley” sounded cool. Whatever, it slaps.
When the Children Cry
This is the song that made White Lion the thinking man’s hair metal band. Bratta’s fingerpicking here is insane, reminiscent of Randy Rhoads’ “Dee.” Lyrically, it’s a cry for world peace—because nothing says “down with war” like a beautifully weepy acoustic ballad.
Wait
Musically brilliant.
Lyrically… let’s just say if Michael Bolton wrote a hair metal song, it would sound like this.
Bratta’s solo, though?
Untouchable.
1985 – Fight to Survive
White Lion’s debut album had zero major label support and still managed to set the stage for their later success. This was pure hunger (not the “Hungry” kind, but the “we want a record deal” kind).
Fight to Survive
A punchy anthem about life’s struggles, featuring a ridiculous tapping intro that immediately makes you question why Bratta wasn’t more famous.
El Salvador
Flamenco intro? Check.
Dual-guitar harmonies that would make Thin Lizzy proud? Check.
A song about war that proves White Lion wasn’t just singing about partying and groupies?
Also, check.
1989 – Big Game
Ah, the tricky “follow-up to a breakthrough album” phase. Atlantic Records wanted another “Pride”, but instead, White Lion gave them a more mature (and slightly weirder) record.
Little Fighter
A tribute to Greenpeace’s Rainbow Warrior, because yes, White Lion was out here writing about actual world issues while most of their peers were still writing about girls they met at the Sunset Strip.
Also, Bratta breaks out the Steinberger TransTrem for some killer key shifts.
Cry for Freedom
A song tackling apartheid in South Africa. And because White Lion doesn’t do anything halfway, they made it a mix of dreamy folk sections and smash-you-in-the-face heavy riffs.
Goin’ Home Tonight
Yet another entry in the “I miss my girl while I’m on tour” genre.
The solo? Pure fire.
The lyrics? Straight out of the “Wanted Dead or Alive” playbook.
Broken Home
Domestic violence is a heavy topic, and White Lion didn’t shy away from it.
Bratta’s acoustic playing here is so clean you’d think he had a PhD in Fingerpicking.
Dirty Woman
Starts in a major key (unexpected), then drops into a filthy blues groove. The bridge and solo reference Hendrix’s “Purple Haze” chord—because why not flex a little?
1991 – Mane Attraction
White Lion’s most polished and ambitious album, released at exactly the wrong time. Grunge was taking over, and suddenly, introspective guitar solos and polished production weren’t what labels wanted anymore.
Lights and Thunder
An eight-minute, middle-finger-to-the-label kind of track. It’s heavier than anything they had done before and full of “we’re going out on our own terms” energy.
War Song
An anti-war anthem that manages to sound cinematic. If only ‘80s rock bands had access to Netflix documentary licensing deals…
Blue Monday
Bratta flexes his blues chops in a tribute to Stevie Ray Vaughan. If White Lion had stuck around, this could have been the start of a whole new phase for him.
Final Thoughts
White Lion walked a weird line between being a “serious” band and an MTV-friendly glam act.
Musically?
They were light-years ahead of a lot of their peers.
Lyrically?
Hit or miss. Sometimes, they were tackling war, apartheid, and the environment. Other times, they were writing about how much they missed their girlfriends.
But at the heart of it all was Vito Bratta, one of the most underrated, underappreciated, and straight-up ridiculous guitarists of the ‘80s. If Eddie Van Halen was the rock guitar god, Bratta was the monk studying in the temple, refining the art in ways most people never fully appreciated.
So if you’ve slept on White Lion because you thought they were just another hair band, do yourself a favor, go listen to “Pride” or “Big Game”.
And if you still don’t get it?
Well, that’s your loss.
Free Spirits Rising 