"Rock and roll" is scrawled across of the front of this late-'70s album, but it appears to be simply some well-chosen graffiti in the photograph and not the actual album title. It would have been both generic and appropriate if that had been the choice rather than simply
Blondie Chaplin as a title for the debut solo effort from an artist better known for his collaborative efforts with such large-scale cheeses as
the Rolling Stones. "It's only rock & roll but I like it," was one of the latter band's mantras. Such is the nature of this walloping musical style that listeners could have completely missed out on
Chaplin -- indeed, many did -- and really not have missed a thing. At least in terms of this album: although certainly groovy, it doesn't contain a lick that any amount of exposure to '60s and '70s rock wouldn't have already served up. These would be many of the stylistic trademarks of this era, particularly the later years and the temporarily hip Asylum label, aspects that will evoke smiles or fits of vomiting depending on the audience's aesthetic. To continue the crude comparison to digestive processes, this menu highlights tight arrangements, what they used to call "chick singers" (think "Hummingbird," meticulous horn sections, and a mixture of soul and pop flavors that was only possible in an era when these dishes were constantly served back to back on radio stations). Often, however, when a song seems like it is over or an instrumental break not really necessary, here comes the waiter with a dessert tray featuring an assortment of sweet lead guitar solos. One reason this record sounds like so many others is that the people that played on those other records are on this one, too. That includes
Dave Mason of
Traffic fame,
Garth Hudson of
the Band, and legendary session keyboardist
Richard Tee. The South African
Chaplin seems obsessed not with sounding different than the heroes of the day, but rather with being able to duplicate any of them at will, a talent that deserves plenty of praise. He can sing like
John Fogerty or
Spencer Davis yet also shines on complex copies of
the Beatles. In light of what was happening on the music scene in the '70s,
Chaplin must have just seemed like someone whose performances were fun but who never established a sound that he could call his own. Future hitmakers who relentlessly plunder the '60s and '70s make him look good in retrospective -- his tracks sound just as good, if not better, than anything recorded in 2004. Note: the title "For Your Love" is a
Chaplin original, like everything else on the album, not a cover of the great song by
the Yardbirds. ~ Eugene Chadbourne