Robert Christgau: Dean of American Rock Critics

Consumer Guide:
  User's Guide
  Grades 1990-
  Grades 1969-89
  And It Don't Stop
Books:
  Book Reports
  Is It Still Good to Ya?
  Going Into the City
  Consumer Guide: 90s
  Grown Up All Wrong
  Consumer Guide: 80s
  Consumer Guide: 70s
  Any Old Way You Choose It
  Don't Stop 'til You Get Enough
Xgau Sez
Writings:
  And It Don't Stop
  CG Columns
  Rock&Roll& [new]
  Rock&Roll& [old]
  Music Essays
  Music Reviews
  Book Reviews
  NAJP Blog
  Playboy
  Blender
  Rolling Stone
  Billboard
  Video Reviews
  Pazz & Jop
  Recyclables
  Newsprint
  Lists
  Miscellany
Bibliography
NPR
Web Site:
  Home
  Site Map
  Contact
  What's New?
    RSS
Carola Dibbell:
  Carola's Website
  Archive
CG Search:
Google Search:
Twitter:

Lionel Richie

  • Lionel Richie [Motown, 1982] C+
  • Can't Slow Down [Motown, 1983] B+
  • Dancing on the Ceiling [Motown, 1986] B+
  • Louder Than Words [Mercury, 1996] Neither

Consumer Guide Reviews:

Lionel Richie [Motown, 1982]
At least Jeffrey Osborne wants to sing like Peabo Bryson or somebody; no sooner does Richie split off from his unnecessarily successful funk group than he starts making like Andy Williams. Not that this comes as a surprise to those who know the funk group. But there are better ways to integrate this great nation of ours. C+

Can't Slow Down [Motown, 1983]
Given Richie's well-established appeal to white people, this surprisingly solid album bids fair to turn into a mini-Thriller, and good for him--it's a real advance. In the years since he became a ballad writer he's learned how to sing them--"Hello" is nowhere near as magical a song as "Easy," but the grain of Richie's delivery gives you something to sink your ears into. And where the Commodores' funk often sounded a little forced, his jumpy international dance-pop comes to him naturally even when he's putting on that stupid West Indian accent. B+

Dancing on the Ceiling [Motown, 1986]
Though it's customary to situate Richie square in the middle of the pop mainstream, in fact he's more austere than that, and more distinctive--his placidity and simplicity yield a lulling, almost mantralike entertainment that recalls Sade or J.J. Cale. Granted, his clichéd verse isn't always as transparent as he hopes--mawk like "Ballerina Girl" is all too noticeable. And sometimes he doesn't put his heart into the semi-fast ones. But he compensates with a knack for tune that puts him over the fine line between lulling and boring--a knack that Sade or Cale would go metal for. B+

Louder Than Words [Mercury, 1996] Neither

Further Notes:

Everything Rocks and Nothing Ever Dies [1990s]