Writing bland MOR rock must be more exhausting than it
seems, because all these guys can squeeze their muses for is an average of
three songs apiece, which really bleed together into one unbroken procession of
musical, lyrical, and performance banality. Apparently Richie Furay was born
again in the interim since the first SHF LP, so imagining the recording or the backstage of a show is
vastly more entertaining than listening to the damn thing. Hillman nearly comes
to life on “Follow Me Through,” buried deep on side two, but the arguable
keeper is (as on round one) Souther’s “Mexico,” whose half-assed, shrugged-off tale of
infidelity is an apotheosis of this scene’s darkness-free easy-sleazin’—not to mention a perfect embodiment of what Steely Dan was mocking in “Deacon Blues.”
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