They say that there is a time and place for everything. Well, if that’s the case, then Rick Springfield‘s time came and went back in the ’80s. After struggling in the ’70s as a mediocre “rocker”, Springfield finally came to prominence with both his album Working Class Dog and as doctor Noah Drake on the insipid soap opera General Hospital in 1981. He won a Grammy for “Jessie’s Girl” (proof that the voters were clueless even back then), and went on to star in his own rock flick Hard to Hold in 1984. So when did it start to fall apart for good old Rick? Was it the following year, in ’85 when he released the lame Tao? Perhaps. And certainly the lamer Rock of Life, with such silly cuts as “(If You Think You’re) Groovy”, didn’t help. But let’s face it; Springfield was more than yesterday’s news by the time the decade closed out and the alternarock/grunge explosion was just around the corner.
But it was easy for “artists” like Springfield to carve out a career in the ’80s, back when anything was truly going and everyone, including Richard Simmons, was putting out albums. Sure, “Jessie’s Girl” was all right when it hit, but god knows it’s not all right 23 years later, and you know the man has to still play that dinosaur on his live shows. So what does one do? Well, in Rick’s case he went into the studio and made his “angry” album. You know the kind. It’s the type that aging artists often pull out of their back pockets when it’s time to prove they’re still viable and can really rock. Note that this is also the case when former boy band members decide to go it alone, too. But really, it shouldn’t be at all surprising that equally bereft acts like JC Chasez can turn more units than Rick Springfield.
The album is called Shock Denial Anger Acceptance, and boy is it a doozy. Doozy, as in after you listen to it you feel like you’ve been in a near-fatal collision with a semi. And not only near-fatal, but one that’s been dragged out for 17 songs. It seems that Rick has fallen to the dark side that so many artists have lately, with the desire to get as much music onto a disc that he possibly can. These are the times when I start longing for the vinyl years when it was basically an eight-to-ten-song average per album with everything done in 30 or 40 minutes, tops. No one needs 17 tracks of new Springfield, especially when he’s turning out clumsy, “angry” tunes like these.
Oh, and Rick’s angry, there’s no doubt about it. Want proof? Then just glance at the song titles. There’s “Wasted”, “Shoot Your Guru”, “My Depression”, “Your Psychopathic Mother”, and “Every Night I Wake Up Screaming” for starters. Throughout this album, he sings in a gruff voice, trying to prove to the listeners that he’s really pissed off! Raging, hollow, by-the-numbers “hard” guitars fill the mix, and everything sounds very 1990ish here. But you should have guessed that Rick was too little, too late when the guy decides to put emoticons on the cover of his album. OK, how 1995 is that?
It’s hard to take this stuff even remotely seriously, especially on a song like “Alien Virus”, with lyrics like: “Baby where were you? / I waited for hours / Up in the sky was a strange light / You know comets are falling and UFOs are calling / Where were you last night? / You used to be beautiful, baby, all right / I don’t even recognize you anymore / I think maybe some alien virus infected your heart”. Or, how about the embarrassing “Jesus Saves (White Trash Like You)”: “You let me read your pretty poetry / And I fell for your trailer park majesty”? Ricky, wake up. You’re stretching it thin here, pal.
But the old fans still eat this stuff up like there’s no tomorrow. Troll around the message board at the official site and you’re bound to find a bit of unnerving fanaticism, usually revolving around the limited edition version of this album (one of them containing an invitation for a personal dinner with Rick, no less) for a whopping $89.00. OK, call me crazy, but 89 bucks for Rick Springfield? Someone needs the cash. Not even David Bowie is charging out the wazoo for his special releases lately. The newest reissue of Black Tie/White Noise is a special three-disc affair (two music CDs, and one DVD, much like Rick’s LE disc) and comes in at a doable $27.99. Oh, but then we’re comparing Bowie to Rick Springfield. Did someone say indie label? Ricky’s also selling some tote bags and coffee mugs as well, for those who still want to pledge their allegiance even further.
The nadir of the fans’ attitudes, however, came when one person reported that they were moving on. That they had loved Rick’s old stuff, but the new tunes just weren’t clicking. This elicited a string of angered responses informing this person that they weren’t a true fan. Not a true fan of Springfield if you don’t like his crummy new songs? How dare you! But the person had a point; these songs are crummy to the point of laughability. Rick Springfield was nothing more than pop-lite with a hint of plastic “rock” rolling around in his tunes. To hear the man make a bid for hard rock credibility is sadly amusing. For some reason, this guy hasn’t wound up on the county fair circuit yet. A few more like Shock Denial Anger Acceptance, however, and a future of playing songs next to Quiet Riot may be in the books.