 Concrete Blonde Group Therapy
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Twelve grueling years, five ehh-to-excellent studio albums, one deafening whimper. Such was Concrete Blonde's story back in '94, when the troika quietly packed up their dark, decadent, distinctly Hollywood groove. Various solo projects and a fine, if uneven, legacy ensued. Group Therapy, the original lineup's grab bag of a comeback special, wants to tap into the outfit's many moments of greatness. It does. It also wants to amount to more than a trip down memory lane. It doesn't. The dozen tracks are a buffet of the red-meat rock, operatic broodings and South-of-the-Border spices that defined the group's varied output. "Roxy" is "Joey" redux, Johnette's breathy vocals engaged in Read More some spooky, sonic sex with Jim Mankey's piercing six-string. "Violent"? Think "God Is a Bullet" and all the catharsis that it implies. "True, Part III"? "True," only more stately. "Your Llorona"? A twilight trip down Mexico way, re-revealing Concrete Blonde as gifted at just about anything they put their collective talent to. And if the new material never quite achieves Cohesive Statement status, it is a grand, welcome survey of the schizophrenic ingredients that make these three musicians such a compelling animal. STEVEN CHEAN (January 14, 2002)
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