ROBERT PALMER : Music & Style

Counterpointing this attitude is his gradual, not to say erratic, artistic growth. His three albums are reasonable enough works, but hardly the brilliant indispensable stuff of Great Maestro. Sneakin' Sally is, considering his company of musos and recording locations, a predictable achievement in style: rhythmic R&B funk.

For the quality of musicianship and songs (five written by Palmer, including a co-credit with Lowell George; two by Toussaint; and one by George alone) the record was critically well received, but he was a forgettable vocalist.

The second album, Pressure Drop, recorded in Baltimore and LA using Little Feat members and Motown, Muscle Shoals and British sessioners, isn't an obvious relative to the first in approach. The title cut is a cover of The Maytals' reggae classic, but otherwise the song credits follow the previous pattern, this time with six written by Robert.

Basically it's rooted in the same ground as Sally but strangely leans heavily towards MOR with arrangements afflicted by oppressive string and wind scores. His vocal, however, walks the production plank away from the former cosy safety of being mixed into the backing tracks. Its nakedness reveals interesting inflections and timbres inspired by black artists, most notably Otis Redding. And not surprisingly he even comes on like Joe Cocker on George's Trouble.

Some People returns him, if not to the house next door to Sally, at least onto the same block. Looser in feel than either of the other sets it has broader musical influences, creating an attractive hybrid of R&B, soul and West Indian music.

Recorded mostly in LA again using sessioners, several of whom now play in his stage band, Palmer the songwriter and singer emerges with stronger character.

However, he has not yet emerged as a perfectionist of his craft or as a truly formidable talent. He also drags his own credibility into question with one major goof: an appalling version of Don Covay's Have Mercy - a classic song which the Stones performed superbly on Out Of Our Heads.

Naturally Palmer himself insists that his approach is cautiously considered. "It's real easy to get eager and greedy, but it's a waste of time. As soon as you jump the gun then you're just pretending; just jiving."

Maybe Palmer isn't even aware of it - because of the subjective pride he has in his albums - but these albums are not hard little balls that'll impressively crack open skulls like coconuts. So possibly his appeal is based on other factors - which doesn't of course, mean I'm dismissing his music entirely.

But since Sally he has presented a strong visual image as a figure of sartorial elegance exuding sexual mystique that undoubtedly attracts considerable attention. One theory, which he attempts to annul later, is that this kind of projection is compensation for his lack of musical identity.

The first album sleeve, for instance, pictures him running with a scantily clad lady, attempting to escape the threatening blades cast by a car's headlights. On the second cover he is snazzily dressed, idly fiddling with a TV remote control next to a symbolically rumpled bed, while a naked girl stands gazing out of the room's window. The latest sleeve depicts him playing strip poker with an Hawaiian beauty on a lawn under darkness.

All the covers are the classic stuff of little girls' wet dreams and fantasies for guys to emulate. In our interview he'll comment thus on the general observation: "You've got to be kidding. Really, that's kinda rude. You just can't be serious."

Going on stage for his second set at the Music Hall he's trying to shake off the agitation he felt after his first show. There were sound gremlins. But the crew, after angry admonishments during the break, have promised the best damn quality possible from a house PA that sounds like an old man with a bronchial cough.

The difficulties are compounded by the fact that Palmer has a throat infection. And he has to play two headlining sets a night for the next three days. So the pressure certainly doesn't drop.

But he's creating this big load for himself. Whereas most new acts in the States are willing to tour as support to a Big Name, Palmer chooses this approach - because otherwise, "It wouldn't be on my terms, would it? It wouldn't be my audience."

Well, few acts do it of their own terms at first. (...)

Tony Stewart (New Musical Express - Nov. 1976)