The thing about Todd Rundgren’s seminal Something/Anything is that it is so good…so inspiring…that you
immediately begin searching for other records in his catalog that will provide
the same rate of return.
Chances are good you’ll never find one.
Within seconds of listening to anything post S/A, you’ll also discover that Rundgren
follows his irreverent muse to places that not only aren’t fulfilling, but
nowhere near the caliber of what he’s capable of.
I learned this by acquiring a bunch of Todd Rundgren records
in the cutout bins throughout America ,
discovering firsthand why they ended up in the cheap seats to begin with.
Healing was one of
those records, Rundgren’s 1981’s release, which shows him exploring the idea of
spirituality, and one that listeners will finally begin to question the
artist’s fixation with keyboards and synthesizers.
The reality is that these types of devices generally bring
out the laziness in Rundgren, giving him the false sense of security that the
record is over when it may actually require a little more time and effort from
him.
The case is painfully obvious on Healing, a record plagued with half-baked concepts and woefully
inept arrangements that sounded dated the moment they were released.
It wasn’t the first time Todd used his electronic equipment
as a crutch again more organic outlets, but it may have been the first time
where getting through an entire side of a Todd Rundgren album proves to be such
a chore.
Beginning with “Healer,” the record’s mission statement, if
you will, that comes a few years too late to qualify as a Peter Gabriel
outtake, yet sounds like Todd just discovered him for the first time.
“Flesh” continues the album’s thematic approach, complete
with a near a Capella delivery, complete with pointless gaps in between each
preachy verse.
“Golden Goose” is completely uncoordinated with the rest of
this record, a pointless oom-pah up-tempo novelty that jars the listener out of
any holistic qualities the album portends to channel.
The rest of side one flows in and out of mundane MOR flourishes
that try to incorporate atmospheric textures and soulful vocal scales in an
obvious attempt to fool listeners-particularly in the cult of Todd-which Healing is more than its minimalistic
approach suggests.
But before you can get completely cynical on Todd and
declare that Healing was the first
hint at Rundgren’s incredibly self-centered and ego-driven 80’s decade, side
two suggests that this album definitely stood a chance.
Essentially the record’s centerpiece, “Healing” is presented
in a three-song suite that takes up the entire second side. It is here that the
atmospherics seem to match Rundgren’s intent of blending the power of healing by
actually creating music with healing qualities.
As a result, side-two of Healing
became an instant favorite, with side one seldom finding any companionship with
my turntable’s needle. The original pressing contained a bonus 7” single of
“Time Heals” and “Tiny Demons,” two distinctively separate yet enjoyable cuts
that probably deserve better than their “bonus single” status. They certainly
deserve better than being tacked on at the end of Healing, which is what every edition of the record has done with
them since the original vinyl edition fell out of print.
As a Todd Rundgren document, Healing is arguably a release that is deserving of attention beyond
the completists, and beyond the loyal faithful that will place it higher than
it actually is. It is indicative of Todd’s problem of failing to live up to the
expectations that everyone placed on him after his early masterstrokes, by
conveniently side-stepping any attempt to try to challenge them.
You could make the argument that Healing is a notable challenge and a worthy attempt at greatness,
but the music within it demonstrates otherwise. It is an effort that literally
hinges on two sides: one that feels like a simplistic bit of patchwork that
barely adheres to the lofty themes that its title suggests.
The other side does manage to reflect something special, but
unfortunately, it’s not enough to excuse the inherent frustrations of his
career or the reasons why Healing
came into my own life through the bargain bins than are already littered with
remnants of Rundgren’s fickle muse.
1 comment:
I wish could disagree with any part of your review but I can't.
I will say, however, that "Healing (part 1)" manages to avoid being dated and instead transcends its '80s production and is simply of its time, as all good musical period pieces tend to be.
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