As much as anyone was wowed by The Power Station Album in 1985, we were all taken by surprise by the appearance of a second album by the übergroup eleven years later. By then, Robert Palmer was just coming off of Peak Robert Palmer, which can be said to have lasted from 1985 to about 1990, after which he parted ways with the zeitgeist to plow his idiosyncratic furrow away from the prying eyes of mass media.

The band were reconvened at full strength during the writing process, but by the time of recording, bassist John Taylor was hit with divorce from one side and rehab from the other. So ultimately he bowed out and the bass parts went to producer Bernard Edwards; surely no slouch. But the producer had the temerity to die of pneumonia on Chic’s prior tour of Japan; leaving the band to scramble to manage a tour in following the album. They wisely sent the call to bassist extraordinaire Guy Pratt, who often played and wrote with Palmer.

I actually saw this tour in Orlando at megaclub J.J. Whispers with my wife and friends all there. It was a hot set with a good mix of Power Station and Robert Palmer material making up the playlist. It was the last time I saw Palmer in concert, and was the only time I’ve ever had the pleasure with Mr. Pratt. Though we understood why there was a second Power Station tour, this time with Robert Palmer singing instead of Michael Des Barres, I don’t think that I or any of my friends had ever heard a single note from that second Power Station album. As it turns out, there’s a good reason for that.

The Power Station: Living In Fear – US – CD [1996]

1. Notoriety
2. Scared
3. She Can Rock It
4. Power Trippin
5. Life Forces
6. Fancy That
7. Living In Fear
8. Shut Up
9. Dope
10. Love Conquers All
11. Taxman

Though the roster of musicians on the album was eerily similar to the first album [even the great Wally Badarou and the Borneo Horns were in session] the music sounded off from the get-go. “Notoriety” suffered from blues-rock guitar tone from Andy Taylor where his natural metallic leanings were closer to home for him. It lent a perfunctory mainstream Rock air to the hookless song and featured Palmer at his mannered worst, instead of his mannered best. The pusillanimous horns in the coda were an affront to any sense of vitality this album aspired to. “Scared ” was even weaker with Palmer’s singing not merely skirting the edge of failure, but seemingly probing the same kind of simpering, mewling phrasing that one day Midge Ure would also investigate to his detriment.

The album’s sole single was the perfunctory “She Can Rock It.” An embarrassing, by-the-numbers rawker that felt like overcompensation for the album’s first two failings, yet it only managed to become its third. The 4:16 track seemed interminable. The good ship Power Station was sinking… and fast. They would have to send in the reinforcements if they hoped to avoid a complete fiasco.

The Euro/Japanese edition had a Marvin Gaye cover in “Let’s Get It On” as track four, but the US edition swapped it out [licensing costs?!] for the B-side to “She Can Rock It” instead. “Power Trippin” was the first cut here that swung with what we’d expect from a Robert Palmer album. The Borneo Horns were better integrated with the end result and the first hint of the old Palmer with was in evidence here. It wasn’t a redux of the first album vibe, but it managed to integrate the horns with Andy Taylor’s metallic guitar; giving him a solo in the middle eight that had frisky interplay with the horns. It was hard to believe that this was relegated to B-side status outside the US.

Next,”Life Forces” served up a funky slice of Palmer R+B that really seemed like something successful from one of his solo albums instead of the somewhat blunter Rock attack of The Power Station, but at this point, I was ready for any reason not to hit the “skip” button. Even if it was flown in from a Palmer solo album.

The even spiffier “Fancy That” also trafficked in nimble R+B with funky clavinet, syncopated horns and a killer BV hook courtesy of BJ Nelson. This actually sounded like a kicking Prince track from the 90s. One with the Purple One at the top of his game, actually! While Taylor’s involvement was minimal, at least he got in some subtle wah wah licks that echoed the BVs.

With that oasis of respite behind us, it was ready for the meretricious character of this mostly misbegotten album to manifest and take control. The title track was no less than your worst nightmare of Led Zeppelin at their most obnoxious and overblown. The sort of music that had me overlooking Led Zep’s occasional forays into taste and wit, perhaps unfairly, for many years. Except that even tracks like “Black Dog” have an integrity completely lacking here. “Living In Fear” played like Zeppelin’s most bombastic tendencies edited down and randomly spliced into four and a half minutes of migraine-inducing pseudo-mayhem. Ghastly.

Cacophonous dreck like “Shut Up” managed to make one almost nostalgic for the previous song, but it managed to get even worse! “Dope” sounded like Palmer had been listening to contemporary KMFDM and wondered how he could get him some of that. It’s the shortest track [I can’t call it a song…] here at less than three minutes but I challenge anyone to listen all the way through. Ugh…!!!

One might think that the pivot back to mainstream Blues-Rock ala Eric Clapton as on “Love Conquers All,” might function as a balm for sore ears by this point…and one would be wrong. It merely resulted in another track that dares you to listen all the way through it. Managing to show that certain brands of professionalism were utimately no better than the unprofessionalism of a “Shut Up” or “Dope.”

Then the album had the temerity to conclude with an obnoxious cover version of a song written by a privileged millionaire airing his grievances. I always hate The Beatles “Taxman,” but this was certainly the worst version I’ve heard by a long shot. Clattering, noisy drums and squalling guitars can only be said to have rendered the ugliness in the lyric musically manifest.

I hate to speak ill of the dead, but uunnnnuuuugh! Bernard Edwards, Robert Palmer, and Tony Thompson all managed to hand in their worst work of their illustrious careers on this farrago. Andy Taylor is thankfully still with us, and looking like he may be sticking around longer than anyone expected, but even his perfunctory solo work that I’ve heard was miles less objectionable than this bilge. John Taylor was at least in rehab instead of playing bass here, but his co-writing still still existed as a black mark on his permanent record. This played like the sound of desperation where no one involved had a clear idea of where to take the concept of the band less than a dozen years later. Unfortunately for our ears, no one put their foot down to bring the derailed train to a halt.

After listening to this several more times to type these words [the things I sometimes do for this blog!], I now can enjoy tracks four through six, that I failed to appreciate the first time I listened to this. Though they were clearly lost Palmer tracks flown in to save a sinking vessel! Ultimately “Living In Fear” was clueless in envisioning a way forward for the erstwhile supergroup. Lacking a direction, those involved merely doubled down on the crass dumbness that was a comparative wink on the first album [see: “Get It On”] and blew it up to Brobdignangian proportions. This was an album that dared the listener to listen all the way through, and took perverse delight in sticking the boot in to ensure that you couldn’t. Resulting in the single album with Robert Palmer singing that really, seriously, failed to make me smile even once. The first Power Station album was released on EMI around the world in 1985. Chrysalis Records held the rights to it but declined a US release. My copy of this CD was released in America on Guardian Records. That says everything.

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