It's particularly depressing when an album starts out really well, and you get yourself all geared up for a really great experience, then like a football match with one spectacular goal in the second minute, the rest is as boring as watching paint dry. But you keep watching, just in case something good happens. And now and again there's an individual flash of brilliance: a close shot, a great tackle, an incredible save, but the end result is the same. The score remains at the final whistle the same as it was when that wondergoal was scored, and though yes, it's been worth it just to see that moment of genius, you could really have just switched off or left after that, as nothing that followed has ever come anywhere close to emulating that one moment of magic.
So it is with certain albums, this being a case in point. The first track is great, then it dips seriously sharply in quality, and the next few tracks are nothing great. Halfway in or so there's another pretty good track, but by the time it's over your opinion is that the album was not worth listening to all the way through, and had you hit “stop” after that one track you probably would feel a lot better than you do now, having suffered through the rest of it.
Can't look away --- Trevor Rabin --- 1989 (Elektra)
On the face of it, this should be a good album. Guitarist with Yes on three of their biggest later albums, "90125", "Big Generator" and "Union", Trevor Rabin brought a freshness to that band that had for some time been sorely lacking, and there's no doubting his ability as a guitar man. Nothing wrong with his voice either, and though he didn't sing on any of the aforementioned albums, this is his fourth of seven solo efforts, and he has gone on to compose the music to literally dozens of films, including the likes of “Gone in sixty seconds”, “Con Air” and “Enemy of the state”. In fact, that seems to be where he's plying his talent mainly these days, and good luck to him.
The opener and title track just hits all the right spots. Starting off with a powerful guitar intro, as you might expect, it ploughs into a big cinematic opening, betraying Rabin's leanings and future career as a composer of movie soundtracks. When the singing begins it's through some sort of vocoder, which catches you offguard and you think this could be a problem if all the vocals are like this! But then after just two lines it settles down and Rabin's voice is clear and strong. The song is a joy, packed with guitars, keys and pumping drums, and ending with a great guitar solo and dramatic close to fade. Oh yeah, bring it on! More of this please!
Unfortunately, that's not what we get. Not at all. As an opener, "I can't look away" is also the high point of the album, and it's all pretty much downhill from there. After such a powerful start, the only way the rest of the album can be described is as anticlimactic.
The rest of the songs on “Can't look away” are, for the most part, pretty dire. Naturally, being a guitarist first and singer second, he includes a few instumental workouts on the axe, like “The cape”, which is lovely and reminds me of Mike Oldfield
though I find “Sludge” a little confused
While “Etoile noir” never gets a chance to get going, being only a few seconds over a minute long.
But the only other really good track on the album that stands out and makes it worth having plugged on is the excellent “Hold on to me”
(This, and the title track, both incidentally co-written with someone else). But then you have “Something to hold on to”
“Promises” I find quite weak
and “Sorrow (Your heart)” just doesn't work for me. I know he's a South African, but this is too Peter Gabriel for me.
“Eyes of love” is okay, but could have been so much better
And when he tries to be like Robert Palmer in “I didn't think it would last”, he's right...
It's not that it's a terrible album, but with a pedigree like Rabin has, and with the promise of the opening track, I just expected it to be so much better than it turned out to be.