attack, with Ronnie Hammond's honeysuckle voice floating atop a firm rhythm section that is periodically goosed by Barry Bailey's razor-sharp lead-guitar lines. As one might expect from a cadre of former studio musicians, this band has its sound down cold, but such rigid stylization can rob a group of its ability to surprise.

The Atlanta Rhythm Section's initial appeal came from its break with the often predictable Southern-rock genre: the band combined the usual guitar-solo orientation with an attractive pop sensibility. "Evileen," a moody ballad on which Bailey's guitar sprays the verses with silkily reverberating rhythms, is a fine example of that fusion, but the title song is the kind of ordinary jam any one of a hundred groups could have done. Its jazzy lope is distinctively ARS, but like the hard-rocking "Large Time," it fails to generate anything beyond bemused familiarity.

Albums like this unlock a critical cobra: one must admit that the musicianship is first-rate while acknowledging that the more undefinable aims of art (growth, spontaneity, et al.) aren't being realized. So my doubting Thomas side asks the Atlanta Rhythm Section what they've shown lately, while the consumer's guide in me advises fans that Champagne Jam offers a toast very much like last year's. (RS 269)

JOHN MILWARD