Rolling Stone reviews : COTS
Remember that time ? Personally, this album holds a special link to the past. It was the only Lightfoot album that I ever received as a gift. A college-days roommate managed a record shop and presented it to me as soon as it had arrived in his store. I didn't even know it had been released. Talk about delighted........
Cold On The Shoulder
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For a decade now, Gordon Lightfoot has been a neo-folk hero in Canada. His early records and performances were distinguished by a rugged romanticism that charmed Canadian ears. But aside from Peter, Paul and Mary's cover of one of his best songs, "That's What You Get for Loving Me," Lightfoot remained obscure in the United States until Warner Bros. ace producer Lenny Waronker sophisticated his sound.
On Cold on the Shoulder, the fifth Lightfoot/Waronker collaboration (with time out for a Nashville album with Joe Wissert) all the standard components are present: The strings and/or steel guitars are genteelly laid over the strumming of Lightfoot's 12-string guitar; the rhythm section churns lightly underneath while the singer pours his winter-brandy voice through original songs depicting an ever lonely, ever rambling rustic. Waronker thus retains Lightfoot's folksy base while refining his surroundings to the point where the singer is actually working in the same acoustic pop idiom as the seemingly slicker John Denver.
But really, there's not much more going on here than on Denver's records. Lightfoot's a craftsman, not an artist, and he works within rather narrow confines at that. Eloquence is rare for him and conviction is more a suggestion of his vocal mannerism than anything substantive. Throughout Cold on the Shoulder, and his Warner Bros. albums in general, Lightfoot comes up short in dramatic impact. On Cold on the Shoulder we're left with music of homogeneously rounded monotony, without even a likely change of pace (like the appealing "Sundown" and "Carefree Highway" from his last album, Sundown) until the very last track, the lusty "Slide on Over." On this track, finally, Lightfoot seems to have his eyes open, and he sings with his mind as well as his larynx and nose.
Despite the opinion of some longtime Lightfoot buffs, no corruption of natural talent has taken place here or on Lightfoot's previous Waronker-produced albums. Aesthetically, you can't fault the producer for his city tailoring of the rural Lightfoot sound—dull, pleasant pop is still preferable to dull, austere pseudofolk music. (RS 186)
BUD SCOPPA
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