The Only Ones - Baby's Got a Gun

Baby's Got a Gun (1980) ***1/2

Overproduced and containing a sickening country duet ("Fools") in a belated, half-hearted attempt at pop crossover success, the third and final Only Ones album is clearly their weakest, but the step down isn't that drastic:  it captures a band hewing to the same formula the third time in a row with predictably diminishing returns, yet the formula has yet to grow stale.  No doubt that if the Only Ones had carried on into the '80s the albums would have bread-molded staler and staler, as their conventional hard rock/power pop could by derivative definition progress no further - so this is an effective and appropriate a swansong:  a band quitting not on top, but just on the downcurve, so fans aren't likely to be left with bitter regrets of what-could've-beens.  The Only Ones were exhausted as a band and Peter Perrett was dredging the last good tunes from his songwriting well.  But by no means is this a bad album - fans of the first two will find plenty to enjoy here, as the differences aren't that great.  It's simply not a great album.  Not that the Only Ones could have crossed over to the mainstream with this album, either:  when the catchiest song rings around the chorus, "Why don't you kill yourself / You ain't no good to no one else," radios aren't spinning in motion.  "Big Sleep," may in fact be Perrett's most successfully realized creepster ballad; "Me and My Shadow," effectively thuds rockingly along to a Bo Diddley thump; and the closer, "My Way Out of Here," lilts a lovely melody-chorus refrain.  Truth told, aside from "Fools" (yech!) and the useless Bad Company-ish plodder, "Re Union," there's little to dislike on this set.  There's not a whole lot to jump up and get excited about, either, but on the whole it is solidly pleasing.  Let me put it less ambivalently:  did you like the first two Only Ones albums?  Then you'll like this one, too.  Only not as much.

The Only Ones - Even Serpents Shine

Even Serpents Shine (1979) ****

Without a standout "hit" like "Another Girl, Another Planet," the second Only Ones album doesn't catch you with a hook that's going to blow you away, but if anything it's more consistently good than the debut and that means it's pretty great - ten solidly rocking, emotionally wreaked tunes plus one instrumental that is titled, appropriately "Instrumental".  Peter Perrett reminds me of Steve Harley (remember him?  Anyone?  Anyone?) in the way that he combines several bog-standard mid-'70s elements and just does his job by delivering some good music:  nothing special, nothing fancy, just some great rock'n'roll.  A slapdash of Dylan in the croaky vocals, a bit of Ray Davies nonchalance Englishness, slubby NY Dolls/Crazy Horse garage hard rock, a Lou Reed-ish attraction to the seamy side of drugs & sleaze, some Who-ish power pop and Television-esque guitar soloing - if you're going to whip up a formula, get the derivatives right.  Anyway, Perrett's tortured romantic whiner personality is entirely his own, and that's what matters.  The highlight for me is "Out There In The Night," an emotionally devastated slab of melodically uplifting/anthemic power-pop bliss that on first listen appears to be about a one night stand that Perrett wishes had blossomed into a relationship, but on closer listen turns out to be about his lost pet cat.  Well, hey, haven't we all been emotionally devastated by the disappearance of a beloved pet running away?  It's about damn time somebody wrote a deeply heartbroken lyric about the subject.  "Miles From Nowhere," inexplicably buried on side two near the end, might be even better and is even more emotionally pained.  As someone born in the provincial hinterlands, to say that I can identify with the lyric, "I want to die in the same place I was born / Miles from nowhere / I used to reach for the stars but now I've reformed," is understatement.  And it contains some of John Perry's most expressive soloing.  I find "Curtains For You," a bit plodding in its hard rock paces and "In Betweens," is a rewrite of the first album's "The Beast," and that's it for the low-ish points; elsewhere Perrett issues ballads bitter ("You've Got to Pay") and tender ("Someone Who Cares"), the band gets mildly punky ("No Solution," "Programme"), and shine their brightest in mid-tempo ("From Here To Eternity," "Flaming Torch").  Don't judge a band by its hideous cover, listen to the music inside, it's great, it's brill, it's pleasing to the ear, it stands the test of time.

The Only Ones - The Only Ones

The Only Ones (1978) ****

Punk rock only by historical association, the Only Ones were trad-rockers heavily indebted to the Velvet Underground, performing conventional hard rock equal doses Crazy Horse and glam-Bowie era Lou Reed.  One glance at the cover could have clued any punk kid in that these dudes didn't fit in with punk - lookit, these are old geezers!  One of 'em's balding, and another looks like a 50 year old Ron Wood wandered into the photo session by mistake!  In fact, drummer Mike Kellie was ex-Spooky Tooth, and the bass player was indeed as close to pushing 40 as he looked.  Lead man Peter Perrett may have been a bit younger but he sounds like the oldest man in the band, his ragged Dylan-esque bleat (rock crit code for an off-key croak of a whine that's somehow all the more affecting for its frailties) essaying a cavalcade of ennui, boredom, alienation, laziness, resignation, pessissism, and drug-weariness.  That last bit's important: "Doing drugs is one thing we have in common," he blurts in "Language Problem," which also contains the Freudianly fascinating lyrical tidbit, "I love my mother but I wouldn't want to have sex with her," as well as, "Mother said love shouldn't exist for pleasure / So I throw in some pain for good measure."  Now you see why I mentioned the VU influence in the very first sentence of this review?

I also mentioned Neil Young, though, didn't I?  That brings me to guitarist John Perry, who weaves ragged solos and crunchy riffs to serve as musical bedrocks that ground Perrett's lyrical songwriting in good old solid rock'n'roll reality.  The ten songs are more or less evenly split between druggily drifting ballads chronicling clinical depression and punchily loping rockers that Perrett cynically spits out in his best dry Lou Reed monotone sneer.  Not that he doesn't have an equally adept yearning romantic side, as the lovely opener (later covered by Yo La Tengo) "Whole of the Law," and the best-known tune, "Another Girl, Another Planet (later covered by the Replacements) make clear.  Perrett proves himself an excellent songwriter and the band serve his songs well with the well-oiled warmth and instinctual grit of seasoned pub musicians.  So this wasn't the most strikingly innovative and original release of 1978, but Perrett's puking-my-heart-out-on-my-shoes sincerity, as well as the band of veterans' honest enthusiasm for the traditional rock'n'roll they clearly love, ensure that it's held up as less dated and more timeless sounding than many flashy-in-the-pan New Wavers bopping in the late '70s.  I mean, you'd rather listen to this for actual pleasure than Devo or Gary Numan, wouldn't you?  Which goes to prove that good songwriting, a guitarist that knows how to kick a chord or three out of the ballpark, and a rhythm section that chugs along - that's all you need, innit?  Well....sometimes, I guess.  But you better have good songs most important of all.  They do, they do, they weren't the only ones, but they did.