(This review originally appeared in December 2005.)
By the middle of the seventies, rock began to resemble Europe in 1914 - bloated,
self-satisfied, and completely unaware of the conflagration (in the case of
rock, punk) that was about to engulf it. The complaint was that rock had gotten
too whitebread and too mainstream. Smart mainstream, old-wave rockers were able
to stay artistically savvy in 1976 in either two ways; they could strip down to
basics, as Bob Seger and Tom Petty did, or they could bring rock back to
its rhythm-and-blues roots while keeping the overall sound contemporary. Boz
Scaggs took the latter approach.
Scaggs was already a grizzled veteran by
the time he recorded Silk Degrees; he had been in Steve Miller's
namesake band, and he'd gone on to record a couple of worthy solo albums with a
hard edge before honing his skills as a white-soul crooner. On the surface,
Silk Degrees is a standard mid-seventies LA session-rock confection,
and of course just about any music coming out of Los Angeles in the seventies
was about the superficial. But Scaggs himself is a product of the more
substantial San Francisco rock scene, and he had also recorded in Muscle Shoals
with Duane Allman. The gloss is here - session pros like David Paich and Jeff
Porcaro couldn't help but generate it instinctively - but the music is given plenty
of depth by the man whose name is on the cover.
"Lowdown," with its
undertow of a bass line, cutting guitar, steady percussion, and subtle Scaggs
vocal, was the big hit from the album, and it encapsulates Scaggs's adeptness
with rock fusion and its jazz and blues elements. For that alone, Silk
Degrees would be essential. But Scaggs is not one to play it safe. A
lecherous rocker like "Jump Street" and a fist-pumping brass-dominated number like
"Georgia" seem to come out of nowhere and immediately grab you on the first
listen. The lyrics on all of these songs deal with shady characters and
questionable situations that we feel privileged to look in on; on "Lido
Shuffle," Silk Degrees's masterpiece, we're brought along for the ride.
A quick R&B tempo and a tight arrangement that happens to include an
intelligently programmed synthesizer take Scaggs's music to heights he would
probably never reach again.
Silk Degrees certainly
feels like a once-in-a-lifetime album, if only because Scaggs puts
every facet of his musical experience into it with so much energy and honesty.
This is even true with love songs like the soulful, evocative "Harbor Lights,"
which is more than the mood piece it seems to be. Scaggs's crooning does occasionally threaten to undercut him, as on the nondescript "Love Me Tomorrow"
(written entirely by David Paich). And despite a fine Scaggs performance on his
own "We're All Alone," the closing cut, its piano-and-string arrangement lacks
the conviction of Rita Coolidge's cover of a year later, which went out with a
tough guitar solo. But Scaggs succeeds in agily walking the tightrope between
pop and rock that had tripped so many California rockers of the seventies.
Scaggs could handle it.
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