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LUCKY
(Island/Universal)
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Melissa Etheridge’s eighth album is a hodge-podge ranging from Creed-like anthems to un-funky funk songs and cut-and-paste guitar bits buried under layers of noise. The grit in her voice is lost to excessive overproduction. No more messy infatuation or hard-done-by rants of an obsessive former lover; no more vulnerable, innuendo-filled fury — instead, we get lyrics that are unimaginative and dull ("I want to know how lucky lucky can be"). Bringing a new dimension to jock rock, "Secret Agent," "Giant," and "Kiss Me" induce visions of head-banging mullets. The poppier "Breathe," "Meet Me in the Dark," and "Will You Still Love Me" rely on hackneyed verse/chorus/verse/bridge/chorus arrangements in a pale rehash of her past recordings. Although the tribute to gay September 11 hero Mark Bingham, "Tuesday Morning," is meant in good spirit, the song is a cacophony of choppy overdubs and badly placed instrumentation. And "Come On Out" is a misguided funk song with spiraling circus sounds and too many layers. At one time, Etheridge could be likened to Bruce Springsteen; she now sounds more like Kim Carnes. The rawness on Lucky is contrived; gone are the blood, sweat, and fire she wooed us with in the beginning.
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