A Fresh Listen: "Fumes" Albums
The first part in an ongoing discussion, revisiting the moments our favorite bands grasped at straws
When an artist is fortunate enough to amass a large body of work, in most cases that creates a treasure trove for their fans. Besides the usual balance of favorites, dark horses and disappointments, there are records that divide the base for any number of reasons: maybe there was a sudden left turn or deviation from the template, or maybe they stayed too true to the formula and put out an album that was both loved and disliked for its consistency. Perhaps there was a major lineup change, or for that matter a reunion that did or didn’t live up to expectations depending on the listener.
Baked within these discussions are considerations of what was going on with those artists at the time of creation: were they just getting started, under pressure to follow up a big hit, coming back from a disappointment, riding a hot streak, coming down from one or recovering from a fallow period, and so on?
And unfortunately for a lot of our favorites, especially those putting out albums throughout the ‘70s and '80s, the frequency with which they were expected to release new material and tour behind it inevitably resulted in burnout. That often manifested in sloppy live performances or hastily slapped-together records that basically existed just to keep the engine running. If a band was lucky, those records succeeded in that basic mission, at least in the short term, giving them a cushion to regroup and reassess. Many other times, fans lost patience and made their displeasure known, forcing those groups to react in ways they were not always prepared to do. Naturally, these particular albums- usually borne out of exhaustion and created with a lack of clear inspiration and abundance of chemicals- rank among the most divisive in terms of fan opinion. Many routinely cite these as their worst entries, while some contrarians place them at or near the top, and many others acknowledge their inconsistency but dig out what they consider hidden gems that, for them, make these records worth listening to.
And that debate is part of what makes these platters fascinating: what happens when our favorite act seems to exist only for the sake of existing? Are the results uniformly terrible, or does some strange miracle take place where a band manages to conjure magic despite the circumstances? Or is it something in between? More often than not, these are dark horses, the highly divisive albums that may have as many hidden gems as outright duds. Or maybe not…
This article (the first in a recurring and ongoing series) will look at a couple albums released in close proximity by like-minded legends that were created under less-than-ideal conditions (the “running on fumes” albums) and ponder these questions.
Thin Lizzy, Renegade (1981)
The Backstory
Although Chinatown was a Top-10 album in the UK and spun off two hit singles, it was seen as a disappointment after a glorious 4 album (5 if we include the monumental Live and Dangerous) run in the back half of the ‘70s. More than that, the seams had begun to show: despite his considerable talents as a guitarist, Snowy White wasn’t fully gelling with the band, especially on stage, and was perceived (accurately, by his own admission) as more laidback and restrained than his hot-headed predecessors Gary Moore and Brian Robertson. Furthermore, between pooling songs with Robertson, Moore and Jimmy Bain while also trying to launch a parallel solo career, Phil Lynott was maxed out creatively, and his worsening heroin addiction had not only made him unreliable, but had dramatically tarnished his reputation in the press and throughout the music industry. Even his own managers were questioning his judgment and overwriting some of his decisions: although they couldn’t stop Lynott from bringing Darren Wharton into Thin Lizzy as a full-time keyboardist, they kept him from being included in band photos on the subsequent Renegade album out of fear of alienating Lizzy’s fanbase. And with Scott Gorham also hooked on heroin, fully half of the acknowledged band was out of sorts.
As a result, Thin Lizzy went into Renegade in a strangely dispirited and defeated state. And this came out in the songs: between the awkward keyboards on “Angel of Death”, the half-hearted lyrics of the title track and the strangely somber tone that permeated the entire album, no listener could pretend that this was a band fully in command of their craft. Tracks that were presumably meant to be triumphant or at least rousing (“Renegade”, “Leave This Town”, “Hollywood (Down on Your Luck)”) sounded resigned, as did the melodies that had once been the band’s calling card. Worse still, most of the second half was given to unfocused experimentation that, instead of showcasing Lizzy’s versatility, just made them seem adrift. And “It’s Getting Dangerous” closed the whole affair on a distressingly morbid note, as it was Lynott basically telling us he was running out of gas.
How did it all turn out?
About as well as could be predicted given the above. “Hollywood” flopped as a single, and after 6 albums in a row that either made the top 10 or came within an inch of doing so, Renegade barely scraped the lower rung of the Top 40. The tour did OK, but reviews more often than not called out Lynott’s increasingly subpar performances and White’s lack of stage presence. The immediate perception was that this was Thin Lizzy’s worst album, and 40-plus years of hindsight hasn’t really improved its standing, since even the few defenders mostly deem it a low point in the band’s discography.
For their part, Lizzy seemed to disown it, not only parting ways with White after the tour but making a very clear statement by replacing him with the much flashier and metal-oriented John Sykes. And while the subsequent Thunder and Lightning was a very different- and much more acclaimed- record, the damage from Renegade had been done: initial ticket sales for the Thunder and Lightning tour were so bad that management hastily reframed the dates as a “farewell” tour to draw interest in what was seen as a faded act.
But was it really that bad?
Not that bad, but not great. Renegade has its defenders, perhaps most notably Martin Popoff who considers it their best album, though he is also open about his opinion being at least partly driven by loving the cover art (which admittedly was rather elegant in its simplicity). No way we’re going that far, but it’s not as terrible as perceived, and there was something compelling about all of it. “Angel of Death”, “Hollywood”, “The Pressure Will Blow” and the title track all had memorable hooks and stellar guitar work, and Lynott’s vocals were memorable and passionate even as he was fighting against the dying of the light.
Still, Chris Tsangarides’ production was a bit flat, and there was no getting around the fact that Thin Lizzy wasn’t at the top of their game, especially Lynott. Considering the pool of songs he had amassed over the previous couple years, Phil should’ve kept his eye on Lizzy’s dwindling fortunes rather than passing material over to Jimmy Bain and Brian Robertson or trying to get his solo career moving. Renegade would’ve been much more consistent if tracks like “Fats” and “Mexican Blood” were replaced with, say, “Old Town”, “Don’t Play Around” or “Ode to Liberty”.
In the end, Renegade was a mixed bag that reflected Thin Lizzy's disheartened and compromised state: it sounded as exhausted as they were, but even then there were still moments of grace and a handful of timeless songs.
Rating: 3/5
UFO, Making Contact (1983)
The Backstory
UFO in late 1982 was in a pretty similar place as Thin Lizzy a year earlier: that year’s Mechanix was one of their higher charting albums in the UK, making the Top 10 and spawning a minor hit with “Back into My Life”. But lovable lunatic bassist Pete Way felt Neil Carter’s keyboards had softened the band, and he left after the tour for more chaotic pastures. More than that, the endless album/tour grind had taken its toll, and it was all bound to come crashing down for such a notoriously dysfunctional group of drunk and drug-addled hooligans.
And crash they did. With Phil Mogg so wasted he could barely stagger out of bed and Paul “Tonka” Chapman hooked on heroin, it was up to Carter to put something- anything- together, so with long-suffering drummer Andy Parker in tow he wrote almost all of the music for Making Contact and laid down keyboards, rhythm guitar and a ton of backing vocals, even playing bass on a handful of songs. Eventually Mogg and Chapman got back in gear enough for the former to write lyrics and stammer vocals and the latter to splice in lead guitar. But just like with Thin Lizzy, the press had grown tired of UFO’s antics and lack of discipline, and the troubled creation of Making Contact was surprisingly well-documented for a pre-internet album…
How did it all turn out?
…And just like Renegade, Making Contact landed with a thud, charting at #32 and immediately falling off. None of the singles (“When It’s Time to Rock”, “Blinded by a Lie”) resonated, and the supporting tour was a disaster on every possible level. Things got so bad that a planned second leg of concert dates was hastily reframed as a “farewell” tour to goose up ticket sales (just like with Lizzy around the same time), but UFO’s standing had sunk so low that even that didn’t really bring people out (unlike Lizzy in this case- their farewell tour accomplished its objective of increasing attendance and even resulted in a couple triumphant gigs).
When the Making Contact album/tour cycle sputtered to its conclusion, UFO technically broke up, much to everyone’s relief. Carter, Chapman and Parker tried to start a project without much interest, while Mogg moved to Los Angeles and tried to start something up of his own. His efforts resulted in the UFO name being resurrected when Chrysalis decided to sign his new outfit under that banner, though the resulting Misdemeanor was a hapless attempt at pop metal that did even more damage to the band’s legacy.
Even after that, Making Contact continues to be written off as a debacle, and 40 years later a sizable portion of the band’s base (or rather, whatever’s left of it) hold their noses whenever it comes up.
But was it really that bad?
Honestly? Making Contact is more than just not that bad; it’s actually pretty great. Despite all the chaos surrounding UFO (to be fair, it was almost all self-inflicted), Carter was a focused writer and contrary to Way’s complaints about Mechanix, this record was quite guitar-heavy and considerably more aggressive. Yes, the mystique and magic of the Schenker years was long gone, but as a collection of songs this record slaps. “Blinded by a Lie”, “Diesel in the Dust”, “When It’s Time to Rock” and “Push, It’s Love” all sizzle, and even the more commercial numbers (“A Fool for Love”, “Call My Name”) showed that Mogg hadn’t lost his ability to craft a great chorus.
Speaking of Mogg: as frazzled and fried as he was, he didn’t let that show in either his writing or performance. His vocals were as tough and swaggering as ever, while his lyrics for the most part read like he had finally found a way to incorporate his Springsteen fixation into his words without being quite so obvious- discounting the ickiness of “The Way the Wind Wind Blows”, of course.
Making Contact wasn’t a pathetic last gasp (that would come a bit later for UFO), but rather a fun, tough and super catchy rallying cry. Too bad pretty much everyone else had given up on them.
Rating: 4/5