![]() ![]() It was brilliant, inspiring and it worked. There was a rhythmic sense to the tune that had never been utilized by the band before. Their tales of priapism and peripatesis avoid posture because they are posture, lean and mean as a clean machine. While many of Bad Company’s greatest songs were full-blown pedal to the metal, straight ahead rock and roll tunes, the band’s song Burnin’ Sky, was somewhat of an outlier. Recollected in a best-of's serviceably tuneful tranquility, their gut-crunch is smarter and more laid-back than anyone cares to notice, its deterioration less striking than its formal fortitude. Are those syndrums on "Evil Wind"? Naughty, naughty. ![]() I'll just say that if I'd never mistake them for Free anymore, I'd never mistake them for Foreigner either. This is supposedly a return to form after Burning Sky, and it may be. This time, though, it adds a false note that endangers the entire illusion. Ordinarily, that's what a (soulful) singer should do. It's not just that the lyrics are dumb, although there are smarter ways of being dumb than this, but that Rodgers emotes these egregious hip-and-funky clichés as if he's never run across such sentiments before in his life. Which needless to say is a mixed blessing. B-Īlmost imperceptibly, album by album, they soften their Free-derived formalism-not only does this one include ten (why, that's almost eleven!) different tunes, but the dynamics shift and the tempos accelerate slightly and Paul Rodgers actually sounds a little soulful. If hard rock doesn't have more to offer, it's not worth arguing about. Rodgers's power is no more interesting than Tom Jones's, and Jones is twice as subtle. You hear that a lot what it seems to mean is that he doesn't shriek when he gets to the loud parts. This rocks even more consistently than Bad Co., but to argue that it epitomizes hard rock as a style is not only to overlook its deliberate speed but to believe in one's (usually male) heart that Paul Rodgers is the ideal rock singer. Since a strong singer (Paul Rodgers, who's letting the hair on his chest grow out) usually dominates a strong guitarist (Mike Ralphs, who's devoting himself to Paul Kossoff impressions anyway), this is less Mott the Hoople without pretensions (which are missed) than Free poppified (but not enough, hit single or no hit single). ![]()
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