CHRISTGAU CONSUMER GUIDE

CHRISTGAU CONSUMER GUIDE

DEPARTMENTS

Robert Christgau

THE ALPHA BAND: “Spark In The Dark" (Arista):: This unholy trio’s second album is “humbly offered in the light of the Triune God” but T-Bone Burnett still sounds like a hell of a monad to me. He doesn’t know as much as he thinks he does, but when he steps aside from the songwriting, the group usually falls flat—and when he pitches in, these guys can almost pass for a country rock Steely Dan without money. B+

JOAN ARMATRADING: “Show Some Emotion” (A&M):: OK, I’m convinced. I’ve even begun to enjoy the album I C-plussed last year. Sometimes funny, always real, and never, ever pretentious, she proves that a big husky voice needn’t turn you into a self-important fool. I played this record a lot when it came out, so why don’t I have anything more specific to say about? Because of the meaning of the' ordinhry-plus lyrics is conveyed by nuance and stance. B+

ELVIN BISHOP: “Raisin’ Hell” (Capricorn):: This live double LP, four sides of strong material, unmarred by a single extraneous show of chops, reveals why Elvin’s goodtime music is actually fun. Would Charlie Daniels or Richie Furay think to rouse a crowd by announcing, “Remember, this is not a rock concert, it’s a cultural event—we won’t have anybody raising their voices and gettin’ rowdy”? They’d be afraid it’d backfire. And with them it might. ABIZARROS/RUBBER CITY REBELS (Akron):: There’s been a Lou Reed enclave around Cleveland since the late Velvet days. And recently it’s begun to produce musicians. Maybe the real reason the Dead Boys left for New York was to avdid comparison with bands as smart as Devo and Pere Ubu. Even so, a self-produced album showcasing ten good songs is a pleasant shock. The Bizarros, on side one, sound amazingly like the Velvets, their deliberate discordanqes (including viol, lest we forget John Cale) carried forward on surefire junk-rock riffs; mastermind Nick Nicholis has the hang of Lou’s deadpan songspeech, although some of his mannerisms are otiose* and the promising lyrics aren’t worked as fine as they must be to sound natural. The stoopider approach of the Rubber City Rebels—“Gotta get a brain job/Gotta get it now/Gotta get a brain job/But I don’t know how”— proves more foolproofAlice Cooper sang about dead babies, these guys claim to eat them. The album seems to be in mono with, sound presence worthy of Andy Warhol* but it hasn’t quit on me yet. (Available for $5.00 from Box 6014, Akron, OH 44312,)AOTIS BLACKWELL: “These Are My Songs!” (Inner City):: He wrote them, all right. But only once—on an amazing “all shook up” that ranks with Presley’s—does the singer in him manage to reclaim what was long ago appropriate from the composer. His pipes could be better, and a stiff backup doesn’t help, but the basic problemris that Blackwell lacks authority as a performer—he may have invented a bag of tricks for Elvis and Jerry Lee, but he never practiced enough to develop the slight of manner necessary to p ut him across. B-

DAVID BOWIE: “Heroes” (RCA):: When I first heard the’ Enofied instrumental textures on side two as background music, they Struck me as more complex than their counter-part from Low, and they are. Low now seems quite pop, slick and to the point, even when the point is background noise; in fact, after I completed my comparison,

I began to play it a lot. But what was interesting background on Heroes proved merely noteworthy as foreground. Admirably, rather than attractively, ragged. Maybe after the next album I’ll get the drift of this one. B

BREAKFAST SPECIAL (Roum | der):: Where it survives as indigenous « country music, blue grass may well be a ° woundrous thing, but among citybilly and archivist, it only magnifies the usual folkie escapisms—purism and pastoral nostalgia—by encouraging mindless virtuosity. Which makes this virtuosic but eclectically streetwise record a small miracle that should delight anyone more spiritually attuned to the genre than a faithless wretch like me. (Available from DISCONNECTION, Box 563, New York, NY 10013.) B + RAY CHARLES: “True To Life” (Atlantic):: Charles hasn’t sung with such consistent care in.years. Not that he’s given up his jocund audacity—two of the best cuts here are miraculous recasting of “Oh What A Beautiful Morning” and a Bobby Charles song, first recorded by—fancy that—Joe jCocker. But even on the throw-aways he seems to remember the difference between goofing and goofing off. The ' first side is as listenable as any Charles I know. And I’ve learned to enjoy myself through the schmaltz of “Be My Love” and get to the easy stuff on side two. Now, if only he’d let those Beatle ballads be. A-

LOL CREME/KEVIN GOD LEY: “Consequences” (Mercury):: (Seven songs plus one piano concerto divided by 5cc.) plus (one paltrey eccentric musician-battling echoed disaster plot, multiplied by Peter Cook) equals (three good-humored inconsequential twelve-inch discs plus one twelve-inch booklet plus one gift box.) Unfortunately, it also equals something else sure as the world ends: a list price of $20.98, for which it is docked a notch. C

EARTH, WIND AND FIRE: “AH In AH” (Columbia):: Fv^e always found Maurice White’s music skillful, disjointed and bland. But this time he’s focused the horns, the vocal harmonies and the rhythms and textures from many lands onto a first side that cooks throughout. Only one element is lacking. Still, unsympathetic as I am to lyrics-about conquering the universe on wings of thought, they make me shake my booties anyway. B+

FREDDY FENDER: "Merry Christmas— Feliz Navidad From Freddy Fender" (ABC/Dot):: Tough as an ex-con, yet blissfully unembarrassed by sentimentality and with a terrific sense of rhythm, Freddy could have made a (bilingual!) Christmas album to rank with Phil Spector’s. If only Huey Meaux hadn’t hogged the copyrights, thus keeping Freddy away from “Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer” (his kind of song!) and—even worse—Feliz Navidad itself; but I kind of love it anyway. And if it doesn’t match U.A.’s re-released Twelve Hits Of Christmas regular or Ryfhym And Blues Christmas, it beats the hell out of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir’s White (get it?) Christmas. " B

REGGIE KNIGHTON (Columbia):: People who still believe Little Criminals is a great record may be silly enough to think this is a good one . C+

BETTE MIDLER: "Broken Blossom" (Atlantic):: Bleh. So she can translate Billy Joel into Phil Spector— "she has nevertheless become, at least on record, just another pop singer, albeit a bite with a few interesting ideas.

I ask you, is the redemption of Billy Joel fit work for a culture heroine? C

CHARLES MINGUS: ‘Three Or Four Shades Of Blue" (Atlantic):: Mingus’ elitist esthetic theories have always put me off his music. So when I’m told that the oldies on side one have been recorded with more fire in the past, I can only respond that now I’ll want to hear it for myself. Side two is the best composed bebop I’ve come across all year. Larry Coryell and Sonny Fortune contribute their sharpest performances since fusion became commercial. And, that’s the least of it. A-

ODYSSEY (RCA):: Natiye New Yorkers who just can’t wait anymore for the next Dr. Buzzard have turned to this, in which the Doctor’s producer once again weaves meaningful lyrics into a texture, discreet enough not to digest its own strands. But the sad truth is that words and music here are much less dry, audacious and well, hip. For me, they evokexthe Anglophile West Indies rather than the barrio. Anyway, I came so disgracefully late to Dr. Buzzard that I’m still on my first wind.B-

QUEEN: "News Of The World" (Elektra):: In which the group that last January brought us the $7.98 LP devotes one side to the perfidies of woman and the other to the futile rebelishness of the doomed-to-life losers (those saps!) (you saps!) who buy andlisten. C

SANTA ESMERALDA: "Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood"(Casablanca):: I know people who think a flamencoized 15-minute disco version of an Eric Burdon song is some sort of sacrilege, but I’m happy to hum along. Sacrilege? Eric Burdon? Doesn’t anybody remember “Sky Pilot”? B

RINGO STARR: "Ringo The 4tfi” (Atlantic):: Less than three months, after its release, the Ringo fan in me dutifully played this for a third and last time. Whereupon the journalist began to wonder how many people were buying such dreary music just because it was by a Beatle. And was both saddened and pleased to learn that the answer for all practical purposes was no one—it never got higher than #199 in Record World, which I’ll bet was some kindly list maker paying his respects. D

BOB WELCH: "French Kiss" (Capitol):: When “hard rock” gets this creamy, it functions as disco for racists, people who’d rather play soft-core dominance games than dance anyway . And the classy lady flicking her tongue in the general direction of our classy artiste’s ear lobe has the right idea. Oral chic. ’Tis tuneful, though. And probably helps one get through the irony as pleasantly as the Doobie Brothers do. , . C+