EVERY GOOD BOY DESERVES FAVOUR

An uneven album which makes it clear that some band members have more to offer than others - a realisation that led to the group's dissolution.

After the overlong, overwrought introduction of 'Procession', JUSTIN HAYWARD demonstrates why he is regarded as one of the premier singer-songwriters of the 1970s. This man could have made gazillions of dollars on his own as a solo artist, yet his ambitions remained enfolded within THE MOODY BLUES' setup. 'The Story in Your Eyes' is perfect pop. I'm trying to think why anyone would dislike this song: vigorous, crunchy, wistful, not a wasted moment, crisp guitar work. This is followed by RAY THOMAS and 'Our Guessing Game', but the segue is tired and meaningless. There's no longer a real connection between these songs: even the 'concept' of the scales (Every Good Boy Deserves Favour = EGBDF) does little to weld a disparate collection together. This has none of the holistic impact of 'To Our Children's ...'. Yes, 'Our Guessing Game' is quite nice - actually, the chorus is spectacular aside from the obligatory LODGE falsetto - but it doesn't go anywhere.

The lugubrious 'Emily's Song' begins over the top of the previous song's fadeout, again no more than lip service paid to the album's integrity. This meandering soft-rock ballad features cellos and a quasi-music box solo, redefining the concept of gentle. 'After You Came' livens things up a little, but JOHN LODGE doesn't really have the bite of a PETE TOWNSEND. The same is true of 'One More Time To Live' - the album bogs down here, unfortunately, with LODGE harking back to the opening track. It was a mistake to let him domiate this album's heart, and the impetus is never regained. Certainly not with the sappy and overly whimsical 'Nice To Be Here', which just has to be a RAY THOMAS title. Look, this isn't half bad, but it's not what the album needed right now: this would have worked following 'The Story In Your Eyes'. Fortunately, HAYWARD is given another crack, and his second offering, though far too late, brings some passion back to the album. 'You Can Never Go Home' isn't one of his greatest tracks, but it's well above the average fare of this record.

A final paragraph for the last track, MIKE PINDER'S 'My Song'. PINDER has forsaken the Mellotron for the moog (though there is some Mellotron on this track, you'll struggle to hear any on the rest of the album), and he's clearly also forsaken any interest in songwriting ability or lyrical sophistication. This song is truly cringeworthy, with the dreadful words of a megalomaniac prophet (please, someone tell me he's taking the mickey) and a central section the aural equivalent of two tanks colliding, and is tacked on the end of the album no doubt to minimise the damage. PINDER is clearly by now a spare part, with a reluctance to move on past the hippie sentiments of the late 60s, and this, more than anything else, signals the beginning of the end for this wonderful period of THE MOODY BLUES.

Barely three stars.