How anyone was surprised that Britney Spears has shaved her head is beyond me. As Stereophile's assistant editor, the intrepid Stephen Mejias reminded me, she was brainwashed as a toddler thanks to that malevolent mindfuck known as The Mickey Mouse Club. Add to that she's a piece of unreconstructed white trash from Louisiana, who's now been coddled beyond all description and suddenly head shaving looks like the least of her worries.
Okay, so now that we’ve all done our duty and held new babies, eaten dry turkey, listened to insane political diatribes and generally spent nothing but super terrific quality time with our families, not to mention paid fealty to the whole “it’s more blessed to give than to receive” rot, it’s time to get serious and talk about what WE want.
What keeps Waterfall, the band’s seventh album and the first in four years, from sinking into a kind of earnest, overly precious, 1970s lite rock muck is that James’s many influences are a mist and not a downpour.