Book of Dreams

The Steve Miller Band

Mercury

I have to hand it to Steve Miller, I'm afraid. He's the only guitarist I know that could take a handful of other musicians' riffs and a heavy load of assorted space-age muzak, mix it together with a strange chronicle about now and still have it come out sounding as if the sun was shining from just above his ear lobes.

But then he's always been a tough character That's why Boz Scaggs left, some say, after contributing memorably towards the redeemable aspects of his earlier career.

After Fly like an Eagle this is deceptively limp effort from which it is apparent that the Texas gangster needs to rely less upon milking its predecessor's formula and concentrate more upon exploring other areas open to him. The bare-assed rip off: The Stake' serves as a nice illustration, and it's Joe Walsh's 'Rocky Mountain Way' all over again across which Miller has stapled an inane lyric about 'burning' being the only thing he wants to do unless my ears are playing stranger tricks. The original concept was a more than intriguing thought, but Miller reduces it to a pedestrian plod, plod all the way through.

A goodly portion of the enjoyment to be derived from this particular platter consists in ascertaining what's been stolen from where. Little snatches of American West Coast group some, which is nothing new. People have been doing it for years, and Miller accomplished it harmoniously with Eagle. But perhaps Walsh is right — and that way was better. Here, the repetition grates and it can't help but bring me down.

Patrick O'Dea