You could be forgiven for, if briefly, being tricked into thinking this album was actually pretty cool, like in a Thin Lizzy, Steely Dan, hey did you ever actually listen to Mott the Hoople? kind of way. The opening intro is good spacey fun, and Fly Like an Eagle is actually kind of a good song, full of inventive psychadelic flicks and flecks. But then on Wild Mountain Honey you start hearing strummed chimes, and lyrics about the moon and the sun, and then there's a song about Miller's youthful dancin' grandparents, a song about Miller's sweet ass Mercury, possibly the least convincing song about a cool car ever written. And it's about then that you realize: wow, this album is fucking lame.
Does that mean it's not any good? Yeah, it kind of does. I maintain that listening to music is a proxy for hanging out with the musicians that make it, the corollary of which is that, if the album projects a persona of the band that if you wouldn't want to be seen with, you probably won't be able to truly enjoy that album. I'd hang out with Sinatra, I'd hang out with Doom, heck, I'd even hang out with Donald Fagen. I do not want to hang out with Steve Miller, or any member of his band.
The music has its moments, its catchy, goodoleboy rock lite, with some clever guitar moments and production tricks. But then, just as you start to say you know, take the money and run is actually kind of a good song, in come some doubletime handclaps straight up like the theme song from Friends, and it just kind of breaks the spell. What is rock and roll without swagger? Without legitimacy? Whatever's left when you've stripped away the attitude and the energy, it's not enough for me 2.5/5
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