Strange as it sounds, Chicago evades comprehension. Just when you think they’re a group that splits their time evenly between prog-tinged fusion and radio-friendly soft rock, they release Chicago XI, an album mostly entrenched in the middle of those two camps (and sadly, their last with guitarist Terry Kath before his death).
soft rock
Record #271: Chicago – Chicago VI (1973)
Like I mentioned in my last Chicago record, I’m a newbie to Chicago’s immense discography. It is my basic understanding that Chicago started out as an ambitious prog/fusion rock group and moved more towards the middle of the road as time went on, making millions on record sales at the expense of critical credibility. However, the more time I spend with the group, the more I realize that that dichotomy is not so neatly divided.
Record #270: Chicago – Chicago III (1971)
I’ve never really given Chicago too much of a chance. Maybe because I’ve always considered Electric Light Orchestra to be superior in terms of lushly orchestrated pop groups. Or maybe because I’ve always thought jazz-rock fusion was a lot better when it came from the jazz side. But, I’ve been trying to be a better poptimist, and seventies soft rock has been getting the better of me. And, I recently found four Chicago albums for a buck, so you can’t beat that.
Record #3: Air Supply – Lost In Love (1980)
I got this for free, so don’t judge. And I really don’t want to have to listen to it later, so I’m just getting it over with.
Do you like sappy, overproduced, 80s rock-pop? This is your bag. Just about every track is sub-100 BPMs, features a “Long And Winding Road”-esque orchestra and egregious dramatic production flairs (piano-only codas and multiple key-changes are par for the course), and overuse of the the word “love” (“You keep using that word; I do not think it means what you think it means”).
The sequence of this album obviously wasn’t very well thought out (it opens with three power ballads, followed by a disco-rock cut), and it doesn’t help convince unbelievers (namely, me) that Air Supply was worth the accolades they received upon the release of this record. “Just Another Woman,” the aforementioned disco-rock cut (which funnily enough follows “Every Woman in the World”) is the first song on the record that doesn’t make me want to rip the disc off of the platter and through it in the Goodwill bin. It’s also the only song on side one that breaches the 100 BPM mark, and the only track with any sort of venom to it (or maybe it’s the absence of artificially sweet sentiment).
But sadly, Air Supply’s penchant (or is it their trademark?) for ballads and vocal interplay between two nonblending lead singers is the downfall of this record. The few times they break out of that comfort zone is the only success they manage to wiggle out for themselves, even if the non-ballads are stylistically inconsistent, as if even after four albums, they still hadn’t decided what kind of band they wanted to be (besides balladeers), as they jump from disco-rock to pop country to heartland Americana rock (with the faintest hint of prog).
In summation: this is the kind of record a studio has a band release when they want to make a few bucks, heavy on potential heart-stirring singles with enough “variety” to keep the listener from getting bored with ballads. It’s albums like this that led to the invention of the “greatest hits” album.
That Goodwill bin is sounding like a good idea.