Lenny Kravitz - Circus CDs • Vinyl Records • LPs • Music Albums

trying to find his identity among the gods: Hendrix, Zeppelin, Sly, Funkadelic.

Of course, being out of step is nothing new for Kravitz. When he sneaked the flower-powered Let Love Rule in between the controversies surrounding Public Enemy and Guns n' Roses back in the late '80s, it was as though a Deadhead had slouched into South Central Los Angeles during the Rodney King riots. Low-fi production, a psychedelic video, hippie idealism – it was a hook-laden sound for sore ears. It was also denial. By the time Are You Gonna Go My Way was released in 1993, Kravitz had honed his classic riffs and archaic sentiments into a seamless collection of hard-rock bombast tempered by cool Marvin Gaye sensuality, hot Prince-like sexuality, sweet Smokey Robinson pop, even a touch of Bob Marley reggae. It was total ear candy – all hooks and conviction with little of the originals' spirit.

Ironically, the epic scope of Are You Gonna Go My Way could have been Kravitz's spring-board to a solid identity. Instead, on Circus he dives headfirst into the shallowest regions of the classic-rock watering hole. The result is as superficial as the album's first single, "Rock n' Roll Is Dead." Over Jimmy Page and John Bonham riffs, Kravitz announces the demise of the kind of rock & roll lifestyle that was already an anachronism when Guns n' Roses revived it in the late '80s. Never one to let subtlety get in his way, Kravitz cruises into "Magdelene" – a song about a sexy scene-maker who winds up working the strip-joint circuit – with a trite "She was only 17." He cribs shamelessly from Hendrix's "Crosstown Traffic" in "Tunnel Vision" – a song that undermines itself with a lifeless guitar solo – and draws from the Stones/Rod Stewart acoustic arsenal for the saccharine power ballad "Can't Get You off My Mind." Even at their sharpest, the chops on Circus pale next to the scorching title track of Kravitz's previous album and the funky "Always on the Run," from Mama Said.

The dilemma for Kravitz is that no matter how much he would like to be a Hendrix-style rocker – from his furry coats and crushed-velvet pants right down to his Flying V guitar, analog production and pseudocosmic lyrics – his forte is the soul song. When Kravitz's music works, it's not in his burlesque impression of Hendrix's singing voice but in the way he occasionally kicks into an honest-sounding emotionalism worthy of Al Green. Y