Diana Ross
Ross's voice is so full of shading, so subtle and so sensuous, she doesn't need great songs to be entertaining, and the material on this album is more than serviceable. Its highlight is Pieces of Ice, by Marc Jordan and John Capek, which has a few enigmatic lyrics that Ross nibbles at—"Nights are long, entropic/ I can't seem to cope/ It's cold when I look in your eyes"—and an eerie, chilly appeal. Ross' haughty sexiness has never been better exploited. There's also a simpler, more straightforward tune, You Do It, recorded earlier this year by Rita Coolidge. This is the Ross who sounds almost bouncy, cheery and vulnerable. The only song she wrote—with Ray Chew—is called Girls and is something of an embarrassment ("Girls you are passion/ With your every move/ You set the fashion/ Mirrors make you invincible.") But the rest of the album is so attractive it's easy to forgive her self-indulgences.
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