Waiting for the release of these records has been an experience akin to, say, Mr. Earhart waiting for Amelia to get home for dinner.
It's been more than four years since the Gunners' only real album, Appetite for Destruction (1988's GN'R Lies was largely re-releases). Appetite offered a taste of the band's buzz-saw rock, but the two Use Your Illusion albums serve up a 16-course feast.
Hard rock's reigning guitar god, Slash, kicks right in on "Right Next Door to Hell," the first song on Illusion I, slicing your cerebellum like some crazed, knife-wielding attacker. There's no letting up after that.
Axl Rose's lead yowl wraps itself like a snake around some of the other vein-poppers, such as "Dead Horse" from Illusion I or "You Could Be Mine" from Illusion II, squeezing out every last drop of life.
Still, the band never forgets to stitch in threads of melody, treading that thin line between head-banger harshness and metal-lite slickness. Though known for its sonic crunch, the band isn't above tossing in a harmonica riff ("Bad Obsession"), a banjo intro ("Breakdown") or a piano solo ("Locomotive"). Illusion II, probably the quieter of the albums, even closes with a psycho-rap number, "My World."
The mind-numbing roar of most of the music suits the anger and alienation in Rose's lyrics. His is a cruel world of deceitful women and devious friends, where you chase away problems by turning up the volume.
That indignation marks the ballads, yet they're never bitter. Each disc has a somber tune as its centerpiece—"November Rain" on Illusion I and "Estranged" on Illusion II—and both show a thoughtful side of Rose and company, as does the albums' best cut, the militantly pacifist "Civil War" (released on the Nobody's Child Romanian orphan benefit album).
There's really only one big shortcoming with these albums: Taken together, the dual Illusions last 2½ hours. As good as the band is, a project this long loses the momentum that one tight 90-minute double-album might have had. (Geffen)
Donna Summer
There's some solid dance music—"Body Talk," "Fred Astaire." There are a couple of decent ballads—"Cry of a Waking Heart," "Say a Little Prayer." There is an antiwar plea, albeit none too eloquent: "Save the babies, save the babies/ If we only get it together/ If we could only get it together/ I think we could make it."
The album nonetheless is as forgettable as a routine episode of a mediocre TV sitcom. For every nice moment—real unsynthesized bass from Carl James or Summer's easy, sinuous way with a rhythm-heavy arrangement—there are many nondescript melodic sequences or banal lines: "Mr. Moonlight...Shine bright/ Show me my Mr. Right/ Lights, camera, action/ I wanna be his sole distraction."
Summer ends with a characteristically endless list of thank-yous and acknowledgments, and her gratitude is apparently catching. Her new producer Keith Diamond (Mick Jagger, Michael Bolton) starts his thanks with God and works down to Summer: "Donna! Donna! Donna! What can I say! I could tell the world about your big heart and giving spirit ... I could let them know about your constant creative energy (your brain never rests!)... I could even talk about your amazing sense of humor (we had so many precious moments)..."
Next time, please, more music with less gush. (Atlantic)
The Allman Brothers Band
Southern music has undergone such tectonic shifts, the Allmans may seem like a bunch of fossils. But while such Georgians as R.E.M. and the B-52's redefined the genre, it was Gregg Allman and friends who gave the region a distinctive sound.
So it's nice to hear the Allmans reclaiming some of their innovative spirit on this album—their second since reuniting three years ago. They've tapped into a looser feel evident on such tunes as the driving "Bad Rain," a simmering example of that much-maligned musical category, Southern boogie. Guitarist Dickey Betts comes close—but doesn't succumb—to merely unearthing past glories on "Nobody Knows," essentially re-creating the mood of "Hot 'Lanta" from the band's Live at Fillmore East record.
Still, it's brother Gregg's vocals and organ that make the Allmans sound so timeless. On Robert Johnson's "Come On in My Kitchen," for instance, Betts and Warren Haynes wrap graceful blues guitar licks around Gregg's growl.
With that gentle reminder, fans will know they haven't been duped by another mere nostalgia act. These days the A-brothers are playing music from the heart, not just from their wallets. (Epic)
Shelby Lynne
Lynne's third album is more subdued than her first two. No Ellington tune to surprise the country fans this time, for one thing.
It's a pleasing package, though, from the charged-up "You Can't Break a Broken Heart" to the romance of a neo-Marvin Gaye-Tammi Terrell duet with Les Taylor, "The Very First Lasting Love." It would have been nice to hear one of the Elvis Presley hits that Lynne sings in live performances, but if it's not strong on sense of history, this song selection by Lynne and producer James Stroud seems appropriate.
Lynne is reminiscent of early Sheena Easton in more ways than mere physical resemblance. She too has a strikingly rich pop voice, a tough, older-than-her-years veneer and what looks like unlimited potential.
Now, if we can keep Shelby out of the sweatshop commercials, everything will be all right. (Epic)
Simply Red
Some might say they didn't have far to fall, but Simply Red may be suffering from midlife pop career crisis. They had two fine records with 1989's A New Flame and their 1986 debut. But the luster has worn off here, with anemic singing and blah musical performances that make them sound as if they were bloated from gorging on an eight-course gourmet dinner en route to the studio.
The peppy lite funk of the opener, "Something Got Me Started," seems like a healthy sign of things to come. But soon lead singer Mick Hucknall is singing the banal "Thrill Me": "Thrill me, you've got a love so strong/ Thrill me, you really turn me on."
Hucknall's singing is still the hook in Simply Red's music, sliding gently in a pillow-soft upper register—on "For Your Babies," for instance. But his songwriting doesn't match his vocal prowess. Unless he recaptures some of that sassy blue-eyed soul of a couple of years ago, Hucknall and the rest of Simply Red may be destined for whatever-happened-to? status. (East-West)
Psychedelic Furs
Psychedelic Furs music sounds full of angst. Mired in depression. Enveloped in moodiness. And these are its positive qualities.
This is a band that loves misery's company, and seldom has it sounded more at home than on this eighth Furs album. Which means it's one of the group's best. World Outside harks back to the early '80s and the first Furs albums, when gloom was in and pop posturing was out. After that, the group seemed to stretch for that ever-elusive hit single and lost its morose edge. From the opening drone of "Valentine," though, you know this is the record where the Furs are redeemed.
Not all the songs are downbeat. In fact, such tunes as "In My Head" and "There's a World" have relatively upbeat hooks. Still, most of the music floats along like a dark rain cloud on the horizon, one big bundle of negative energy ready to explode.
The thundering thump of the music is perfect moping-after-midnight material, and vocalist/lyricist Richard Butler's raspy moan has never sounded more sincere. While the dark tunes are distant, though, his singing keeps them inviting. Depression is rarely so enjoyable. (Columbia)
>"We Give You Thanks" THE SOUNDS OF BLACKNESS Singer Ann Bennett-Nesby and a sanctified choir offer an electrifying, radio-ready gospel. From The Evolution of Gospel (Perspective/A & M)
"Freedom Cried" VINNIE JAMES Until Springsteen's next album arrives (it'll be about 1997, it seems), this fiery urban rocker makes a nice substitute. From Ail-American Boy (RCA)
"Aspen" RIPPINGTONS Russ Freeman delivers a fusion melody as pristine as a winter wonderland. From Curves Ahead (GRP)
- Contributors:
- Craig Tomashoff,
- Ralph Novak,
- Andrew Abrahams.
Saved by the Bell Reunion
The hookups, the meltdowns, the memoires
The case reveals what was really going on what they think of each other now!
