Tal Bachman
Tal Bachman (Columbia)
by Marc Hirsh
Tal Bachman
Tal Bachman (Columbia)
by Marc Hirsh
originally published in Space City Rock, Fall 2000
Just as there's no guarantee that the vanity projects of the children of great musicians will have any redeeming value whatsoever, there's also no guarantee that the son of one of the most loutish dunderheads in rock and roll will evidence his father's lack of subtlety and taste. And so it goes with Tal Bachman, scion of Guess Who/BTO string pounder Randy Bachman. Where Dad was boorish and obvious, Tal is smart and subtle, the wine and pasta to Pop's beer and brats.
Answering the question, "Hey, what would it sound like if Ed Roland had Jeff Buckley's falsetto and wrote songs akin to David Bowie fronting mid-period Wings?" (yeah, that question), Bachman's self-titled debut is a nifty little pop album whose only major liability is the overproduction that Bachman shares with Bob Rock (Aerosmith, Metallica, Motley Crue, etc.). It's a poor fit and it hurts, but it doesn't kill. Even through the too-loud guitars and overly thunderous drums, some pretty good songs manage to poke their heads through.
Oddly, though, the songs that seem least affected by the sonic wash are the piano ballads, which are usually the first to wither and die under these conditions. But there they are, the lovely "You're My Everything" and the stunning "I Wonder," which examines the connection and separation between generations. Oh, and then there's "She's So High," an absolutely perfect pop song about loving out of your league that swoons effortlessly from delicate wispiness to something just this side of electric mayhem, while that stellar falsetto connotes nothing less than the blissful feeling of another person pulling you outside of yourself and elevating you, if only for a moment.
Sure, a few vestiges of '70s dumb-rock linger. The harmony lead guitars in the middle (and the "Layla" slide guitars at the end) of the closing "I Am Free" don't help Bachman deal with a titular concept that he must take so for granted that writing a song about it is impossibly naive at best. The wah-wah guitar/harmonica raveup intro to "You Don't Know What It's Like" sounds pretty much out of place (especially smack in the middle of the romantic conviction of "Strong Enough" and the self-discovery of "I Wonder"). Overall, though, the duds are outnumbered by the rough gems by a factor of two to one, which is a pretty good percentage for the guy's first time at bat. Ugly album cover, though.