Britisher Robert Palmer is another marcher in the growing column of white folks who prefer playing it greasy and getting down (notable recent examples: Bowie, Cate Bros., Frankie Miller, Little Feat). A talented chameleon, he knows what he wants and gets it.
One of the things he wants is to sound like Little Feat and he accomplishes this by having Lowell George and company play all over this album (as they did on Palmer's earlier LP, the appealing Sneakin' Sally through the Alley). He also gets the favors of Steve Smith, who provides authoritative production in several R&B modes; of currently fashionable string arranger Gene Page (who gave Elton the chart for "Philadelphia Freedom")
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and of the Muscle Shoals Horns.
Palmer mixes songs from Allen Toussaint, George and Toots and the Maytals with a half-dozen originals that string together stock elements and familiar borrowed items with cleverness and style. Material and performance achieve their most spirited union in "Fine Time," throughout which the musicians careen in first-take delight. Palmer's voice seems to change its very timbre as he moves from one track to the next — his predominant vocal approach draws heavily on the funkily cerebral Lowell George, but he gets real smooth on his own slick "Give Me an Inch Girl" and credibly primal on the Maytals' steamy title song.
What makes Pressure Drop more than mere replication—what gives the album such character and charm—are Palmer's ability to draw upon and stimulate top-flight musicians, his laudable taste and feel and his infectious enthusiasm. He sounds like a guy who's been believing in the magic of records all his life but—unlike most of us record maniacs—has managed to push that preoccupation past fanaticism and into sustained creative action. Clearly, Palmer is thrilled to be making these records, and I'm happy to have them around. If Pressure Drop and its predecessor lack profundity, they're certainly not short on affability. Easy to like and easy to live with. (RS 206)
BUD SCOPPA
Still backed by Little Feat, Palmer adds elements of Philly Soul and reggae to the blue-eyed, Big Easy funk template of his debut. A great patio barbecue platter, flak-jacketed rock critics took issue with Palmer starting here --mainly because of his sleek "High Priest of the 1970s" album sleeve and aristocratic continence. Guilt-free Roger Moore R&B in a very good way.
