Bolton content to rest on his laurels
MICHAEL Bolton - The One Thing (Columbia): Michael Bolton sells trailer-loads of albums. It is easy to hear why, he has a voice which could melt butter at the North Pole. Of course, whether one would ever need to do that is a matter for interesting discussion, unlike Bolton's latest album, The One Thing.
The first track Said I Love You . . . But I Lied sets the tone. A mid-paced ballad that smacks of the entire works of Bryan Adams in three minutes, notably Thought I'd Died and Gone to Heaven.
From then on the pace varies between mid-paced, slower-paced and . . . well, mid-paced ballads with Bolton pulling out the same vocal tricks each time - straining for those top notes and crooning in an ''I'm a seriously emotional artist'' way. Only Ain'tGot Nothing If You Ain't Got Love shifts tempo into rhythm and blues. That doesn't mean it's interesting - it's just different.
Perhaps because he has hit a winning radio-friendly formula, Bolton is content to sit back on his laurels and continue pumping out exactly the same material time and again. But tear-jerking ballads reproduced ad infinitum become tiresome.
By the time he's revving up the motors for the fifth in a row, Completely (''completely wanna give my love, completely'') you're just pleading with someone to give it to him in return for peace and quiet.
And in case you were wondering what the ''one thing'' of the title is, then here's the answer: ''You're the one thing, baby.'' As if you hadn't guessed. The Gypsy Kings: Love and Liberte (Columbia): A few years ago you couldn't go to any self-respecting yuppie dinner party without at least one course of The Gypsy Kings.
Of course, the fact the songs spoke of a love and a life a million miles away from chic dining tables was irrelevant. Here was a way to capture the rugged romanticism of a gypsy lifestyle alongside the aperitifs.
But for all that, The Gypsy King's steamy exotic music was irresistible: guests were known to go beyond foot-tapping and indulge in a few gypsy cries of ''ole''.
Love and Liberte does little to break new ground. There's still the layered flamenco guitars, gruff earthy vocals from Nicolas Reyes and Tonino Ballardo's often breathtaking lead guitar breaks. There are hints of a wider world of music beyond the campfire, such as the reggae Escucha Me, but mostly the song remains the same. And no bad thing.
However, the whole thing has a greater awareness of those yuppie dinner parties. The production smooths over too many cracks in a bid for a pseudo sophisticated aura, at odds with their original and captivating roughness.
No doubt Love and Liberte will again find a place at upwardly mobile dinner parties, but the conversation is less likely to be interrupted by romantic fantasies and exotic musings.
