While I was listening to the, 1977, debut album of Bob Welch, I searched the internet to find reviews of it. First stop the www.thevinyldistrict.com, where the reviewer states: “Welch is no wordsmith, and lyrically he doesn’t have a single interesting thing to say. … The guy makes Lionel Richie look like T.S. Eliot”.
For a moment I thought to change my choice for “French Kiss” to be this week’s album, but a voice inside me asked: “since when do you read or listen only what the critics say it’s good?”.
A few
lines after those words the same reviewer says: “Musically, Welch was doing
something far more interesting. At a time when the disco/rock divide seemed–and
I stress that seemed–insurmountable, he was fusing the two in his songs”.
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