Concrete Blonde: Group Therapy

Throughout the late '80s and early '90s, Concrete Blonde exhibited an appealingly malleable persona, dabbling in garage rock ("Still In Hollywood"), message songs ("God Is A Bullet"), Spanish-language exotica ("Mexican Moon"), Goth anthems ("Bloodletting"), cheeky/cheesy novelty ("Ghost Of A Texas Ladies' Man"), and irresistibly glossy pop ("Joey," "Someday"). The band split after 1993's fine Mexican Moon, and the years that followed have seen bandleader Johnette Napolitano drifting through less productive projects of variable but mostly marginal quality, including Pretty & Twisted, Vowel Movement, and an album recorded under the name Concrete Blonde Y Los Illegals. Group Therapy, the first disc made with all three original Concrete Blonde members since Moon, arrives on an independent label with little fanfare, and that might be for the best. The group's familiar sound returns intact, but the songs just aren't there; most of them fade into a distressing mid-tempo mush while plodding through the paces at half speed. Worse, each is roughly two minutes longer than it needs to be: Group Therapy could easily run 40 minutes instead of 65 without losing a single song or verse. At its best, on an affectionate ode to Roxy Music ("Roxy") or in a frank meditation on aging ("When I Was A Fool"), traces of Concrete Blonde's distinct charms shine through, but Group Therapy's low points are as dull and gray as day-old unsweetened oatmeal. "Angel" would be a drag at three minutes, but at eight, it's downright shocking from the band that once exploded through Bloodletting's "The Sky Is A Poisonous Garden." It would be a shame if the disc tarnished the memory of Concrete Blonde's finest moments, but Group Therapy is too marginal to drown out the din of past highlights. The sooner this attempted comeback vehicle is forgotten, the better.