Never mind the Stridex set -- fickle, freckle-faced fans who leap from one Internet site to the next like gnats, downloading the next hit of the moment.
There certainly has been a resurgence in nostalgia tours, but when it comes to new music from old bands, the risk of dropping a bomb is much greater than it was two decades ago.
Such is the dilemma for former Kiss lead guitarist Ace Frehley, who Tuesday released "Anomaly," his first solo album since 1989's "Trouble Walking."
Aside from penning a tune from Kiss' ill-fated reunion album, 1998's "Psycho Circus," Frehley's basically been out of work save for said reunion. And 20 years is a long time to lounge on the beach when feistier talent is surfing pop culture's raging waves with a "Look, ma!" reckless abandon.
Anticipation was high for "Anomaly," especially since Frehley's ex-patriots in Kiss are releasing their new record, "Sonic Boom," in October. Unfortunately, fans are likely going to be disappointed with Frehley's bid to reclaim former glory.
"Anomaly" is akin to going to a concert with your pops. He's trying mightily to walk the walk and talk the talk, but he's hopelessly out of touch. And the music herein is often as ugly as the disc's cover art, which reeks of looking like it was slapped together in someone's basement. It just doesn't feel relevant.
(And while we're on the topic of the package, which obviously has nothing to do with the music, could we please stop making everything out of cardboard? I'm all for the environment, but I'm also a staunch supporter of unscratched CDs. "Anomaly's" disc is barely held in place by a flimsy paper lip. But at least you can mold yourself a swanky, space-age pyramid.)
"Anomaly's" 12 tunes lurch to life promisingly enough with "Foxy & Free," a tune that carries a big, mean riff that chugs along like a freight train loaded for bear. But once everyone's favorite Spaceman opens his mouth, the party unexpectedly slams to a halt.
"You're looking good, you get me so hot; Know you can satisfy my needs. Like taking candy from a baby, make me forget about reality."
Right about that moment, said reality walks right up and decks you when you realize this is a 58-year-old guy who is not only making one too many trips to the cliché factory, but who is also teetering near borderline inappropriate in chatting up the ladies. It's only rock 'n' roll, but c'mon.
It's one thing to be 20 years old and full of hubris and testosterone. It's another to be 40 years that dude's senior and still be scoping chicks.
Things descend from there on the disc's first single, "Outer Space." The tune is clumsy and unfocused, and Frehley's solos are rudimentary and shockingly uninspired. And sadly, the lyrics get a shade more cryptic and dumb: "It's like I told ya, I came from outer space. That's how I know your name."
What?
Frehley furthers the case against "Anomaly" on the ham-fisted "Pain in the Neck," where the singer/guitarist seems to struggle with his own undeniably featherweight material. Never a strong crooner, Frehley's vocals border on near spoken word.
And "Pain" keeps the lyrical awkwardness afoot with this gem: "I think you're cute; you're a pretty girl. That's why we're living in sin."
Some steam is finally produced when Frehley's trademark twittering on his beloved Les Paul's toggle switch heralds the opening of a lively cover of Sweet's 1975 hit, "Fox On the Run." The song's midrange melody suits Frehley's style, and even though elements still feel forced and cluttered, it's hard not to hum along.
"Genghis Khan" kicks off with some shimmering acoustic guitar, but the ensuing electric boogie plods. Same goes for "Too Many Faces," though the pace is marginally quickened and the riffage is a little more intriguing. In fact, "Faces" is one of "Anomaly's" lesser offenses in that it's less lewd and a little more amiable.
After the simmering stomp on insider joke (and "instrumental") "Space Bear" (Frehley infamously appeared drunk while cradling a space-suited teddy bear on late night's "Tomorrow" show with Tom Snyder in 1979) "Anomaly" reaches rock bottom around track nine, "A Little Below the Angels."
What is meant as a heartfelt reflection on Ace's past debauchery (including numerous car crashes and battles with alcohol), "Angels" is destined to become a running gag at hard rock vomit parties.
"Alcohol was a friend of mine, it almost got me dead," Frehley drones. "I crashed some cars, got into fights, some things that I regret. I've been told I've got nine lives, or maybe even 10. Now I've changed my ways, my soul's restored; I'm better now than then."
All positive, yes, but Frehley's stammer distracts, and when the song reaches its bright bridge, we get this cringe-inducing conversation with Ace's daughter, Monique, making a cameo: "Daddy, have you ever seen an angel?"
"Sure, baby," comes Frehley's pat response.
"Well, what was it like?" Monique asks.
"It was the most beautiful thing I ever saw," Frehley answers, choking back sugar as a choir of kids drops the weepy chorus.
Oh, my.
Unless you download "Anomaly" from iTunes, where you get the extra track "The Return of Space Bear," Frehley's fourth solitary outing ceases to exist at "Fractured Quantum," which carries on Ace's tradition of closing albums with spins on his 1978 Kiss solo album cut, "Fractured Mirror."
It's not a bad tune, but by this time irksome realization sinks in, casting an unforgiving spotlight on work that doesn't hold a candle to this guitar icon's '70s heyday.
It's no secret that Frehley's an entertainer first. I picked up the guitar because of Ace. So did so many others. But "Anomaly" collectively is painful.
There are going to be hordes of loyalists crying foul about anyone taking a shot at the record, but if they're calling for anyone's head, it's only because they're cutting the Space Ace extra slack based on his stated enormous influence -- the smoke pouring from his guitar's pickups, the rockets blasting free from the headstock.
For that alone, it is tempting to slip a guy like Ace a pass. But for having 20 years to noodle away on this stuff, "Anomaly " is stunningly flat.
Sorry ol' pal. Access denied. -- James Chesna
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