Robert Christgau: Dean of American Rock Critics

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Linda Ronstadt

  • Silk Purse [Capitol, 1970] B
  • Linda Ronstadt [Capitol, 1972] B-
  • Don't Cry Now [Asylum, 1973] C+
  • Different Drum [Capitol, 1974] B-
  • Heart Like a Wheel [Capitol, 1974] A-
  • Prisoner in Disguise [Asylum, 1975] B
  • Hasten Down the Wind [Asylum, 1976] B-
  • Greatest Hits [Asylum, 1976] B+
  • A Retrospective [Capitol, 1977] B+
  • Simple Dreams [Asylum, 1977] B+
  • Living in the U.S.A. [Asylum, 1978] B
  • Mad Love [Asylum, 1980] B-
  • Get Closer [Asylum, 1982] C+
  • What's New [Asylum, 1983] C-

See Also:

Consumer Guide Reviews:

Silk Purse [Capitol, 1970]
This ought to be a good record. She's tough (and sexy) live, and she sure does pick good tunes--Mickey Newbury's new-Nashville "Are My Thoughts With You?," which in Newbury's 45-rpm version has gotten a lot of play on my bedroom jukebox, says a lot about love and its dislocations, but so does Mel Tillis's old-Nashville "Mental Revenge," which I'd never heard before. Country material over rock-flavored arrangements is the concept, and the honky vulgarity of Ronstadt's voice the reason. But only occasionally--"Lovesick Blues" and "Long Long Time" are both brilliant--does she seem to find Kitty Wells's soul as well as her timbre. B

Linda Ronstadt [Capitol, 1972]
In which she makes a silk purse out of Silk Purse, not such a great idea--smoother, better crafted, more beautiful, and decidedly less interesting. Hardcore country songs are down to three, and here's the giveaway: four entries from the Sensitivity Squad (Jackson Browne, Livingston Taylor, and the Erics Kaz and Andersen). B-

Don't Cry Now [Asylum, 1973]
In which whatever was raunchy and country about her is laundered in David Geffen's homogenizing machine, manned this time by John David Souther, who must have told her that "Sail Away" was just another pretty song. You think she's gotten so used to playing the dumb chick that she's turned into one? C+

Different Drum [Capitol, 1974]
With any suggestion that she can rock expunged from this compilation, we get five (out of ten) cuts by the Stone Poneys, the two good ones composed by none other than Michael Nesmith and the worst by Tim Buckley, who inspires her to imitate Joan Baez imitating (if that's necessary) a snooty spinster. We also get Jackson Browne and Livingston Taylor. Hey, maybe she can't rock. B-

Heart Like a Wheel [Capitol, 1974]
For the first time, everybody's sexpot shows confidence in her own intelligence. As a result, she relates to these songs instead of just singing them. It's even possible to imagine her as a lady trucker going down on Dallas Alice--and to fault her for ignoring the metaphorical excesses of Anna McGarrigle's title lyric just so she can wrap her lungs around that sweet, decorous melody. A-

Prisoner in Disguise [Asylum, 1975]
I agree that this is a letdown after Heart Like a Wheel, but I wish someone could tell me why. Maybe the explanations are vague--she's repeating a formula, she's not putting out, etc.--because a singer like Ronstadt, who specializes in interpreting good songs rather than projecting a strong persona, must achieve an ineffable precision to succeed. But maybe it's simpler than that. People say her versions of "Tracks of My Tears" and "Heat Wave" are weak, but they're not--they simply don't match the too familiar originals. "When Will I Be Loved?" and "You're No Good," on the other hand, were great songs half-remembered, kicking off each side of Heart Like a Wheel with a jolt to the memory. And this album could sure use a jolt of something. B

Hasten Down the Wind [Asylum, 1976]
Linda's always wanted to be a Real Country Singer, but RCS put out two or three LPs like this every year. You know--find some good tunes, round up the gang, and apply formula. Like the great RCS she can be, she comes up with some inspired interpretations: the flair of "That'll Be the Day" and "Crazy" do justice to the originals, and her version of the title song almost makes you forget its unfortunate title. But you cover Tracy Nelson's "Down So Low" at your peril even if you believe not one in ten of your fans remembers it, and the three Karla Bonoff lyrics make her (I mean Karla, but Linda too) sound like such a born loser that I never want to hear anyone sing them again. B-

Greatest Hits [Asylum, 1976]
Because it compiles work from both Capitol and Asylum, I anticipated an ideal sampler, especially when the first side induced me to enjoy "Desperado," which she sings real purty. But the second side features her inferior versions of no less than three songs, suggesting that one might be better off obtaining her best music from its corporation of origin. B+

A Retrospective [Capitol, 1977]
Safe (five cuts from Heart Like a Wheel, worth owning itself), genteel (six from Linda Ronstadt, her most conventional album for the label), and occasionally tasteless ("Hobo" is pure artysong and "Will You Love Me Tomorrow" failed nostalgia), this is nevertheless a listenable compilation. "Lovesick Blues" and "Rescue Me" rock a lot better than "Heat Wave," the Stone Poneys stuff surpasses that on Different Drum, Capitol's 1968 "Silver Threads and Golden Needles" sounds fresher than Asylum's 1973, and the genteel stuff does mix well, as they say. B+

Simple Dreams [Asylum, 1977]
In which Andrew Gold goes off and Pursues His Solo Career, enabling Ronstadt to hire herself a rock and roll band. She's still too predictable--imagine how terse and eloquent "Blue Bayou" would seem if instead of turning up the volume midway through she just hit one high note at the end--but she's also a pop eclectic for our time, as comfortable with Mick Jagger as with Dolly Parton, interpreting Roy Orbison as easily as Buddy Holly. Even her portrayal of a junkie seeking succor from Warren Zevon's "Carmelita" isn't totally ridiculous. And I admit it--she looks great in a Dodger jacket. B+

Living in the U.S.A. [Asylum, 1978]
This one divides right down the middle. The last four covers on the second side are so clumsy that I may never again hear the opener, Little Feat's "All That You Dream." But I do kind of like the first side, specifically including the forced intensity of the Chuck Berry and Doris Troy remakes. Only on "Alison," though, does she enrich what she interprets. B

Mad Love [Asylum, 1980]
I had hopes for this album--Linda's always been underrated as a rocker--but it falls way over on the strident side of powerful. The songs could be sharper, although except for "Justine" those from Richard Perry's prefab Cretones are more than adequate, but the real problem is the basic fallacy of L.A. punk--Linda doesn't understand that the idea is to use a sledgehammer deftly. This is how Ethel Merman would do Elvis Costello, only Ethel Merman has a better sense of humor. And though the other covers sound pretty good, only "I Can't Let Go" fits in conceptually, and I'd rather hear them from Little Anthony or Young Neil or Ye Olde Hollies. B-

Get Closer [Asylum, 1982]
Could be her, could be us, probably's both, but never has Ronstadt sounded more the art singer than on this painfully precise collection. James Taylor, of all people, saves the Ike & Tina cover, and Rod Taylor, of all people, adds one more great ballad to her canon, but I suggest that she git while the gitting's good. C+

What's New [Asylum, 1983]
Especially given the rich little rich girl's South African connection, I ignored this airless atrocity--lots of bad records sell, and parents do need X-mas gifts. But when it scored in my own critics' poll I could remain silent no longer. Forget phrasing, interpretation, or--God knows from someone who had trouble rocking "Heat Wave"--swing. All Ronstadt does with these fine-to-middling pop standards is stifle them beneath her moderately gorgeous voice. Her triumph is conceptual--genteel neoconservatives, kneejerk pluralists, one-upping convolutionists, and out-and-out ignoramuses all get off on the idea of a "rock" performer validating the prerock values such songs signal. And may every one of them wear a tie, a garter belt, or both for the rest of their shrinking lives. C-

Further Notes:

Subjects for Further Research [1980s]: Since May 1983, Ronstadt has been on the U.N.'s register of entertainers who have supported apartheid by performing in South Africa--specifically Sun City, a showcase for the homeland policy at the heart of Pretoria's economic strategy. To get off the register she need only promise not to return until apartheid is ended, but she has steadfastly and self-righteously refused. So I stopped paying this stiff-necked middlebrow art singer much mind, which from her skinny-tie period to her Aaron Neville exploitation was no great sacrifice. I was especially revolted by the way she stifled pop standards beneath Nelson Riddle's arrangements and her moderately gorgeous voice. Genteel neoconservatives, knee-jerk pluralists, one-upping convolutionists, and out-and-out ignoramuses all got off on the idea of a "rock" performer validating the prerock values such songs signal. And with Linda singing, you'd never know they had anything else to say.

Everything Rocks and Nothing Ever Dies [1990s]