ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1996, Roanoke Times
DATE: Saturday, April 20, 1996 TAG: 9604230040
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 9 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: AL BRUMLEY DALLAS MORNING NEWS
``Fairweather Johnson,'' the second major-label release from middle-of-the-road phenoms Hootie & the Blowfish, might just be the best sophomore pop album of the last 20 years.
Which doesn't mean it's a great record - especially considering the disappointing second efforts of such acts as Boston (``Don't Look Back''), Dire Straits (``Communique'') and Terence Trent D'Arby (``Neither Fish nor Flesh'').
``Fairweather Johnson'' is a solid, albeit thematically flawed, album that holds up to 1994's ``Cracked Rear View''; in some cases, it sounds even better.
Despite massive sales of 13 million and counting, ``Cracked Rear View'' wasn't exactly the ``Harvest'' of the '90s. Still, it has taken its place in the middle-American psyche - a primordial Brunswick stew of hooks and phrases that ranks with the likes of ``Moon River'' and ``Sentimental Journey'' as music that seems to have always been in our heads.
Musically speaking, ``Fairweather Johnson'' is richer and more challenging, thanks mostly to the soulful organ featured throughout. And clearly the constant touring of the past two years has made the Blowfish better players.
They've also allowed themselves to loosen up and pay homage to their influences: You can hear everything from the Beatles (``Sad Caper'') to Led Zeppelin (``Fairweather Johnson'') to R.E.M. (``Silly Little Pop Song''). They even rock a little harder, especially on the album's opener, ``Be the One,'' which boasts a chord structure taken from Stevie Ray Vaughan and a ringing guitar reminiscent of Jimi Hendrix's playing on ``All Along the Watchtower.''
As for content, well, Hootie & the Blowfish are still stuck in that odd world of theirs where relationships have just ended or are just beginning, where somebody's just died or a new life has just begun.
It's a world full of irritating cliches and cloying catch phrases, where the protagonist is constantly asking someone to ``let me turn around,'' ``never let me down,'' ``lie with me'' or ``call my name.'' On ``Sad Caper,'' Darius Rucker sings, ``I know, she said, before you left me you were free, so I'll just lay me down'' - whatever the heck that means.
Hootie & the Blowfish's songs are almost always epilogues. You never hear why the relationship ended, how somebody died or how this or that person arrived at such a lowly state. The band brings you in after all the interesting stuff has happened; all that's left is for Rucker to sing about how ``it's so hard to breathe right now'' and how ``I want to hold on right now.''
When the band tries to get deep, as on the first single, ``Old Man & Me (When I Get to Heaven),'' the results are sadly inane.
Adding to the annoyance factor is Rucker's singing, which, despite the power of his baritone, sounds most of the time like he just got a root canal before stepping up to the mike.
When Michael Stipe mumbles along with R.E.M., it doesn't seem to matter all that much. Stipe himself has said that he doesn't know what half his lyrics mean. But Hootie & the Blowfish are always talking about the depth of their music, what it all means and how people get it wrong. If Rucker is going to continue singing as if he's yawning with a bucket of oatmeal in his mouth, a lyric sheet might be in order next time.
With all those problems, though, ``Fairweather Johnson'' will still go multiplatinum in a heartbeat - not because of the music but because of the guys playing it.
LENGTH: Medium: 66 linesby CNB