THE CHRISTGAU CONSUMER GUIDE

THE CHRISTAU CONSUMER GUIDE

Robert Christgau

THE ALLMAN BROTHERS: “Win, Lose or Draw” (Capricorn):: For a year or so I’ve been telling cynics that the Brothers haven’t broken up. Now I feel like maybe I was taken. C. CRACKIN’: “Crackin’—1” (Polydor) :: Inspirational Verse: “Throw away all your thoughts of hating,/We’re all important to someone,/But even though your house may need painting, /Yours is not the only one./We will all fall in line.” Parr-tee! C Minus.

ANDY FAIRWEATHER LOW: “La Booga Rooga” (A&M):: Maybe the reason Fairweather Lpw’s cheerful, boozy white r & b is so much more believable than the run of anti-pretentious Rocknroll is that his lyrics acknowledge the fear underlying the funquest. Anybody with the sharp good taste to recall lines like “My bucket’s got a hole in it/I can’t buy no beer” in a roomful of sodden London Irish, as I saw Fairweather Low do, qualifies as a commodious minor talent. B Plus. FLO & EDDIE: “Illegal, Immoral and Fattening” (Columbia) :: No heavy surprise, rock critics usually make lousy records, but not this lousy. Kaylan (wonder why he changed his name from Kaplan) and Volman would have provided some formal balance by including a song about how Jews own all the record companies. We are not amused. C Minus.

“JOHN FOGERTY” (Asylum) :: This is what happens when rock and roll devolves from a calling into an idea —nothing you can put your finger on, you can’t even be positive it’s him rather than you, but he’ll never get away with it twice. B.

FUNKADELIC: “Let’s Take It to the Stage” (20th Century/Westbound) :: Finally they do on vinyl what they’ve always promised to do in the hype — make the Ohio Players sound like the Mike jpurb Congregation. Including a Stevie Wonder rip-off and a Jimi Hendrix impression and a Black Sabbath love song and some church organ that sounds more like Bach than like the Dixie Hummingbirds. Dirty, outlandish, and — of course — FUNKY!!! BPlus.

AL GREEN: “A1 Green Is Love”

(Hi) :: The man has peaked, so it’s probably too late anyway, but you can be sure that this won’t convert anybody. It’s Green at his most extreme — washed with strings, more scatted than composed, occasionally almost incoherent, perhaps a throwaway. Nevertheless, if my man wants to roll around in his own vocal tics and rhythmic nuances, I’ll roll with him. And I’ve stopped worrying about the lyrics. Where I once found Green’s reliance on romantic overstatement amusing, I can now perceive it as a symptom of his fascinating and pervasive craziness, a craziness which has never been better documented than on this defenseless album. A Minus.

JEFFERSON STARSHIP: “Red Octopus” (Grunt) :: Their first significant album since “Volunteers,” six long years ago, would be more remarkable as a feat of regeneration if “Volunteers” wasn’t also the last time Marty Balin was on board. Nice textures, they sound good on the radio, but to call the bad half of this jive-ass would be to imply that standard-brand American bull-shit has style. B Minus.

THE METERS: “Fire on the Bayou” (Reprise) :: This is the only instance I can think of when the addition of a serviceable vocalist has hurt an instrumental group. Reason: He distracts us from the drummer. And maybe he distracts the drummer, too. B. OHIO PLAYERS: “Honey” (Mer cury):: I don’t mean to be mean; I quite like these guys in limited doses. What’s more, this is their funniest album ever, and that’s no typo. Only I can’t quite convince myself that artistic development is even a category for a group that is clearly pure Act. What I can do, however, is acknowledge that they make Earth, Wind & Fire sound like the Herbie Mann Singers. BPlus.

“THE OUTLAWS” (Arista) :: Outlaws my ass — I bet they’d punch a time clock if it’d make the tour go smoother. Combining the most digestible elements of the Eagles and the Allmans t without ever hinting that there might be & a teensy bit of genius or even originality '5 beneath the surface — because there « isn’t — this is now the hottest new rock

5 group in America. How depressing.

6 C Minus.

BONNIE RAITT: “Home Plate” (Warner Bros.) :: Raitt has never recorded better songs — even the Eric Kaz entry has its strength, and the bottleneck version of “Sugar Mama,” by Delbert McClinton of Tennessee, is as revelatory as the woman’s version of “Run Like a Thief,” by John David Souther of L.A. Nice and loose again, maybe her best. A.

“LEON REDBONE“ (Warner Bros.) :: On record, he is an exemplary folkie, making up in organizational intelligence what he lacks in inventive spark. Melding antique songs of varying origin into a mature New Orleans instrumentation absent from his unaccompanied stage appearances — which are at first intriguing, then stultifying and/or annoying — he offers an alternative to the narrowness of both stylistic commitment and audio, reproduction that makes the original New Orleans recordings inaccessible to all but devotees. Worthwhile work.

BPlus.

LINDA RONSTADT: “Prisoner in Disguise” (Asylum):: I agree that this is a let-down after “Heart Like A Wheel,” but I wish someone could tell me why. Maybe the explanations are vague — she’s repeating a formula, she’s not putting out, etc. — because a singer like Ronstadt, who specializes in interpreting good songs rather than projecting a strong persona, must achieve an eneffable precision to succeed. But maybe it’s simpler than that. People say her versions of “Tracks of My Tears” and “Heat Wave” are weak, but they’re not — they simply don’t quite match an all too familiar original. “When Will I Be Loved?” and “You’re No Good,” on the other hand, were great songs half-remembered, kicking off each side of “Heart Like a Wheel” and a jolt to the memory. And this album could sure use a jolt of something. B.

TURN TO PAGE 80.

CONTINUED FROM PAGE 12.

LEO SAYER: "Another Year'* (Warner Bros.):: Leo sounds so much like Elton this time that I thought I’d finally figured him out, for like Numero Uno he seems very aware that people buy hooks, not words, belting/crooning every lyric with the same synthetic intensity regardless of its worth. The switch to a social realist tack here would then be explained by the presence of new songwriting collaborator Frank Farrell. My problem: Sayer writes the words, Farrell the melodies. Sayer’s problem: We love Elton for his megalomania, and in pop, megalomania is something you have to achieve.

B Minus.

SILVER CONVENTION: "Save Me” (Midland International) :: All I know about this predominantly black group is that its home town is Munich, in Germany, and that its current single, “Fly, Robin, Fly,” is currently, well, taking off. The style is very bare and pure, sort of minimal disco, with lyrics so simple-minded they could not have been devised by anyone who knows English as a native language. Like so much good disco, it’s funny, and not intentionally, one of those aberrations that could be turned into a major annoyance by major popularity. For the time being, however, it’s catchy yocks. B.

THE SUNSHINE BAND: "The Sound of Sunshine” (T.K.):: You can’t trust anybody any more. Fronted by K.C., a/k/a H.W. Casey of Casey and Finch, they are the Booker T. and the MG’s of the great Southern l^bel of the ’70s. But this is just the boys in the bands sans vocals, the post-soul equivalent of your Paul Kossoff or Vassar Clements LP. Haven’t you been longing for an instrumental version of “Rock Baby”? No? Then Wait for them to put “Miss B.” on a K.C. collection. Time: 26.32. DPlus.

TAVARES: “In the City” (Capitol) :: It’s so simple even arrant schlockmeisters like Lambert and Potter can pull it off. You’ll need a dynamite single to set the mood, of course, but if you’re patient and work hard there’ll be an “It Only Takes a Minute” every year or two. Make sure a couple of the other entries from your songwriting mill are of top quality (“Ready, Willing and Able,” "In the City”) and then — this is important — fill holes with outside material (Edgar Winter, George Clinton, AWB) for variety. So how come no other disco-oriented vocal group has produced a satisfying album this year? Might as well ask why money is green.

B Plus.

LILY TOMLIN: “Modern

Scream” (Polydor) :: When I hear Tomlin impersonate Suzie Sorority or explain how she managed to play a heterosexual in “Nashville” (“I’ve seen these women all my life, so I know how they walk, I know how they talk”) I thank God for making us a woman comedian instead of another light comedienne. Next time, though, I hope She makes her a little funnier. B. TOOTS AND THE MAYTALS: “Funky Kingston” (Island) :: The quick way to explain the Maytals is to say that in reggae they’re the Beatles to the Wailers’ Rolling Stones. But how do I explain Toots himself? Well, he’s the nearest thing to Otis Redding left on the planet, a lot nearer than A1 Green; he can make the words “do re mi fa sol la ti do” sound like joyful noise. 1 wish he had more politics — any Jamaican who can only pray to God about this tough time hasn’t ever felt compelled to explore all his options — and lately his arrangements have been looser than I’d like, but this is a gift, at least the equal of any Maytals album presently available anywhere. P.S. I’ll pay $20 for a copy of the now-departed greatest hits collection on Beverley’s. A.