CHRISTGAU CONSUMER GUIDE

GHRISTGAN CONSUMER GUIDE

Robert Christgau

by

THE BEACH BOYS: "L.A. (Light Album" (Caribou):: I quite like the electronic disco extension of "Here Comes The Night," but more as an oddity than a positive pleasure. The chief positive pleasure—Brian's "Good Timin' is not a new^song. What is new is the banality of the orchestration' on "Lady Lynda". C +

THE BOOMTOWN RATS: "A Tonic For The Troops'* (Columbia):: Satisfied owners of the group's Mercury debut might spring for the import (on Ensign), since this repeats two of the better tunes from that new wave no-sale. And seekers after straight-ahead cacophony might look around for the Mercury. But though this does turn rather campy at times— Bob Geldof's cheerfully narsty opportunism has lost body and focus—it will certainly do. I'll take a good calculating song about Adolf Hitler over an ordinary calculating song about the perils of romance any day, and if you're heading your music toward the rock mainstream, wit and flash don't hurt. B +

CINDY BULLENS: "Desire Wire" (United Artists):: This woman sets out to prove that she can write and perform songs about the joys of rock 'n' roll and the perils of romance which are tougher, sprightlier, and more propulsive than Eddie Money's. And does it, ■by George! B-

CHEAP TRICK: "Cheap Trick At Budokan** (Epic):: The second side almost works as a best-of, but I'd waif for the studio job—despite the Japanese applause track, this was obviously recorded in the Big Room at Carlsbad Caverns. Arrangements are gratifyingly tight—10 titles on a single disc—but six of them are* also available (even tighter) on In Color. Also: "Ain't That A Shame," the intro of which ought to give pause to those who consider Rick Nielsen an innovative guitar player as opposed to showman; a throwaway collaboration with Tom Petersson; a nice Move ripoff; and "Surrender." BERIC CLAPTON: "Backless" (RSO):: Whatever Eric isn't any more —guitar genius, secret auteur, humanitarian, God—he's certainly king of the

Tulsa sound, and here he contributes three new sleepy-time classics after the manner of J. J. Cale. All are listed on the gold sticker on the cover and none were written by Bob Dylan. One more and this would be creditable. B-

MARVIN GAYE: "Here, My Dear" (Tamla):: The brightness of the disco remix Motown has made available on "A Funky Spqce Reincarnation" is a vivid reminder of how pathologically laid back Gaye is striving to be. I mean, 70 minutes of pop music with nary a melody line almost qualifies as a tour de force, and the third side barely escapes the turntable at all. Yet this is a fascinating, playable album. Its confessional ranges from maked poetry ("Somebody tell me please/Why. do I have to pay attorney fees?" is a modernist trope that ranks with any of Elvis Costello's) to rank jive, but because Gaye's self-involvement is so open and unmediated, guileless even at its most insincere, it retains unusual documentary charm. And within the sweet, quiet, seductive, and slightly boring mood Gaye is at such pains to realize, his rhythmic undulations and whisper-to-a-scream timbral shifts can engross the mind, the body, and above all the ear. Definitely a weird one. B + HOLY MODAL ROUNDERS: "Last Round" (Adelphi):: In which Peter Stampfel and friends—including veteran Rounders Steve Weber and Robin Remailly, many Clamtones, and

Antonia, composer of "That Belly I Idolize" and "God, What Am I Doing Here" (with "Fucking Sailors In Chinatown"yet to come)—demonstrate conclusively that the counter-culture still exists. Strange drug experiences are detailed, ooze is embraced, girls without underwear consume hoagies and juice. In short, Head Comix live. B +

JOE JACKSON: "Look Sharp!" (A&M):: In which ah up-and-coming professional entertainer tricks up Britain's latest rock 'n' roll fashion with some fancy chords and gets real intense about the perils of romance. Well, better "Is She Really Going Out With Him?" than "Sunday Papers," the social-criticism interlude, which inspires fond memories of "Pleasant Valley Sunday." B

THE JAM: "All Mod Cons" (Polydor):: Far from the powers cynics believe them to be* these guys are almost painfully sincere, and on this album their desire to write commercial songs that say something is palpable and winning. Unfortunately, their success is mixed at best, and the music is so tentative that I whs impressed by how hard they made a set of new material rock at the Palladium., But last year's set rocked even harder. And though I can overlook the record's gaffes anc| forced lines and faint playing in the aftermath of the show, I'm too much ofta cynic to believe the glow will last. B

"RICKIE LEE JONES" (Warner Bros;):: It isn't just the skeptic in me who suspects that, despite the critical brouhaha, this young singer-songwriter's attractions are more sexual than musical or literary—"stick it into Coolsville," eh? It's also the male. But the critic knows that there are only three or four of her songs—including "Coolsville"—that I'd enjoy hearing again. B-

JACKIE McLEAN WITH THE GREAT JAZZ TRIO: "New Wine In Old Bottles" (Inner City):: The first side of Monuments, the funk record RCA has put out with McLean, is more than passable—although 4he tunes are ordinary and the groove's a little dead, McLean puts out and the groove isn't that dead. But Monuments has jazzbos up in arms, and this record is why—the best McLean album in over a decade and it's not on a "major" label. The saxophonist's work here surpasses that on his European SteepleChase outings because the rhythm section of Hank Jones, Ron Carter, and Tony Williams encourages him to think as fast as he can play, which is plenty fast. He thinks just fine when he slows down, too, although Joe Raposo's "Bein' Green" is unworthy of him. Yet another reason Charlie Parker played bebop. A-

"MIDNIGHT RHYTHM" (Atlantic):: At last a whole disco album that actually brings off all the disco tricks—exploding out of the speakers, washing over the room, and §o forth. The thump of the bass drum never dominates the rhythmic pulse, and the lyrical taglines avoid the words "dance?' "dancer," "dancing," "dancin'," and."disco'*—until an orgasmic break (repeated once) that goes "Dancin', dancin', dancin', danc-\ in'." Monofunctional but potent. AGRAHAM PARKER AND THE RUMOUR: "Squeezing Out

Sparks" (Arista):: An amazing record. Parker's mood, which has narrowed into existential rage with a circumstantial root, makes for perfect, untamable rock 'n' roll. Guitar, drums, vocals, lyrics, and hooks (and more hooks) mesh into 10 songs so compelling that' you're grateful to the relative lightweights for giving you a chance to relax. And if Graham is pissed off merely because he's not a big star yet, he translates his frustrations into'credible, emotionally healthy anger—the kind you feel when they can't fit the real news into print, the kind you feel when your boss diddles with your work to prove how big his corporate dick is. A + THE RAES: "Dancing Up A Storm" (A&M);: The failure of "A Little Lovin' " to crack top 40 portend^ a duller future for AM radio than any new wave blackout. A hdoky girl -group classic that broke disco when a percussion break was patched in, the tune is certifiable contemporary pop, recommended in both seven-inch (b/w "To Love Somebody") and 12-inch (b/w its radio-length self) formats. Wish I could recommend the album, too, but you know how girl groups are. v C +

RAYDIO: "Rock On" (Arista):: If this is "disco," that's only because disco is a lot more open than the people who hate it. Ray Parker's idea is to synthesize the old black-music tradition of the male \vocal group with the new one of the self-contained funk band, and here he proves that he has what it takes as a composer to keep the idea going. None of these songs stands out the way "Is This A Love Thing" and "Me" did on the debut, but every one is danceable/listenablefun. B +

"THE ROCHES" (Warner Bros.):: Robert Fripp's austere production of this witty, pretty music not only abjures alien instrumentation but also plays up the quirks of the Roches' less-than-commanding voices and acoustic guitars. Thus it underscores their vulnerability and occasional desperation and counteracts their flirtations with the coy and the fey. The result is not a perfect record, but rather one whose imperfections are lovingly mitigated. Replete with memorable melodies, heartbreaking harmonies, wise words, and lotsa laffs. // - A

ROXY MUSIC: "Manifesto" (At co):: This dpesn't represent Roxy at its most innovative, but at its most

■listenable—the entire "West Side" sustains the relaxed, pleasantly funky groove it intends, and the difficulties of the "East Side" are hardly prohibitive. At last Ferry's romanticism seems firsthand even in its distancing. And the title track is well-named, apparent contradictions and all. A-

TINHUEY: "Contents Dislodged During Shipment" (Warner Bros.):: They get arch at times, both lyrically (e.g. the "surreal" "Pujppet Wipes") and in rhythm changes and instrumental breaks that betray an art-rock heritage. But lik^ Pere Ubu, these Akron boys make art-rock that rocks, with chops you dan enjoy for all the music's sake. And if their humor is collegiate, I'm a sophomore. B +

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VILLAGE PEOPLE: "Go West" (Casablanca):: At first I dismissed this as market fatigue—it's hard to act like you're still discovering your formula on your fourth album in 21 months. With no help from a peaked-sounding Victor

Willis—shouters should avoid even the appearance of laryngitis—it came off as a tuneless disco tribute to John Philip Sousa that omitted the "Stars and Stripes Forever" cover only because Jacques Morali doesn't control Sousa's publishing. But now I kind of enjoy it. Cruisin' was dumb, and this is an advance—a quantum leap in dumbness, without even risque puns to distract from Victor's metronomic cries. Although I have my doubts about this "skimdiving" stuff myself. B-

Reprint courtesy of the Village Voice. ¶||^