When I reviewed Shatner’s 2011 spoken word/musical liaison Seeking Major Tom here, I launched a rocket of outerspace metaphors to orbit my dual narrative of Star Trek fan-reverence and actual review, the former retaining a positive stargazer’s trajectory whilst the latter had to take a more down-to-earth and negative overview. But listening and writing were essentially fun.
Not so this time. Whilst Jim’s current album again hires a
crew of rock astronauts like Mick Jones, Steve Vai, Al DiMeola, Rick
Wakeman, Edgar Winter, Vince Gill, Edgar Froese, Robby Krieger, Dave Koz and
George Duke, this prog, jazz and heavy metal vehicle for Shatner’s apparently
earnestly self-penned poetry and recital is cosmic garbage. I’d think it a cosmic
joke – which would be a hugely enjoyable hoot – if it wasn’t for the evident
sincerity of Shatner’s philosophical musings on the meaning of life. Though
saying this: surely track five So Am I,
which links the maudlin eulogy of a dying dog to a reflection on one’s own
mortality, is a monumental piss-take?!
Admittedly, as with a track like So Am I, there are great instrumental solos, but this marriage of
genuine musical prowess with fatuous if well-meaning poetic introspection only
augments the risible gulf between the two. And Shatner’s theatrical over-kill of recital
hammers home a final terrestrial nail in the coffin of this failed mission.
Even the metaphors have crash-landed.
Shat himself?
ReplyDeleteYes, a S.I.W.
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