Word: soul
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...album, which attempted a more serious tone, was titled Listen Without Prejudice Vol. I), but on this new CD he is not only a rebel without a cause, he also lacks energy and wit. On the song Star People he actually sings "Star People/ counting your money till your soul turns green/ Star people/ counting the cost of your desire to be seen...How much is enough?" This from the man who pouted and pouted and demanded to be let out of his Sony contract and later snapped up a $52 million deal with DreamWorks? This from...
...amusingly earnest vocals. Michael's new songs are too concerned with seriousness and maturity to break a sweat. In his attempt to make music that's restrained, adult and timeless, he's instead crafted songs that seem exhausted and out of date. Listeners looking for laid-back pop-soul that smolders, intrigues and seems thoroughly contemporary should check out Everything but the Girl's supple new CD, Walking Wounded...
Dole's transformation represents the third "new" Bob Dole of this campaign year. After New Hampshire there was Battlin' Bob Dole fighting for the soul of the Republican Party. Of late there has been Bob Dole, a Doer not a Talker, and now we have Bob Dole, Just a Guy Without a Tie. But Bob Dole, Citizen, may be the real thing, suggests Dole biographer Richard Ben Cramer, author of What It Takes. "His resignation," Cramer says, "puts him in touch with the younger Bob Dole, the Dole of the Russell High basketball team who would go and pat everybody...
...hopefully, even heroically. Now the descendants of Stalin's victims are poised to welcome as their rulers the heirs of Stalin's politics. Will they do so? Or will they pause at the brink? On the following pages TIME explores the reasons for the trouble in the Russian soul, the fierce campaign for the presidency and what the outcome may mean for the world...
...with any Lovett collection, this one has its share of the funky-flaky. The opener, (You Can Have My Girl but) Don't Touch My Hat, finds the Texan in a possessive frenzy about his "John B. Stetson." Promises, meanwhile, is naked Lyle, skin flayed, soul raw--with grief that could be whispered from a jail cell or an unquiet grave. The melody is plain, the guitar accompaniment plaintive: the song enshrouds you in its desperate beauty...