I’ve just wrapped up the official
start of the NFL season with a fantasy football draft. I think I did OK, by
which I mean I got to draft three Miami Dolphins. I also named my fantasy team
after this next album.
Disc 780 is….Club Ninja
Year of Release: 1986
What’s up with the Cover? A whole lot of awesome. This
reminds me of the cover to ELO’s “Out of the Blue” (reviewed way back at Disc 266) if that cover totally kicked ass. But the awesomeness of this cover
pales in comparison to the awesomeness of Side Two:
Behold –
a space ninja with a throwing star shaped like the BOC symbol. This guy and the
guy from the cover of my Rare Air album should go on space adventures
together. First stop – the international space station/party room known as…Club
Ninja!
How I Came To Know It: I have been a fan of Blue Oyster
Cult since my brother indoctrinated me at the tender age of five. Club Ninja
may not be their best record, but it came out when I was 16, which is a pretty
important age for enjoying rock n’ roll.
How It Stacks Up: I have 11 of Blue Oyster Cult’s
studio albums and “Club Ninja” comes in at…11. Yes – it goes to 11!
Ratings: 3 stars
For many Blue Oyster Cult fans, “Club Ninja” is a
reviled album, and not worthy of the band’s talents but damn it, I still
enjoyed it.
In 1986 a kid in my high school that I didn’t like
very much (for no good reason) came up to me excited about hearing the single “Dancing in the Ruins.” I downplayed my
interest in favour of ‘cooler’ Blue Oyster Cult albums. At the time I was just
being a dipshit, intent on proving I was the bigger fan. I regret that a lot to
this day. I wish I’d used his interest to draw him toward the rest of Blue
Oyster Cult’s music. Or maybe I could have just enjoyed this one album along
with him, instead of being obsessed with how it wasn’t as good as the rest of
their catalogue. So what if is a weaker album? I liked it then and I like it
now.
Sure it is the worst of my eleven Blue Oyster Cult
albums, and there are plenty of reasons why. First, it is missing two key parts
of the band. Drummer Albert Bouchard and keyboardist Allen Lanier are both gone
and with them a ton of the band’s writing talent. Sure the heart and soul of
the band are still there with Buck Dharma and Eric Bloom, but Blue Oyster Cult
has always been a collaborative band, and without A. Bouchard and Lanier the
writing and creative vision both suffer.
The production on this record is also atrocious. On
CD it sounds like it was recorded in one of those metal crates you stack on
cargo ships, tinny and unimaginative. Vinyl is only slightly better. The band
descends fully into synth rock, with light drums and a lot of ambience
replacing the strange and arcane power they are usually famous for.
The production is particularly unkind to Eric Bloom’s
throaty bar-room delivery, which gets swallowed up a bit by the songs. Songs
that are supposed to be tough and meaty like “Beat ‘Em Up” and “Make Rock
Not War” don’t have the weight they need to be taken seriously. I loved
both these songs when I was 16. Now they are a bit silly, with lyrics like:
“Some people got a bad attitude
And I say if they want to get
tough
Beat ‘em up!”
OK, I still like them, I just realize they are silly now. There’s nothing wrong with a little
silly in our lives. Another favourite “so bad it is good” line is this one from
“Madness to the Method”:
“It’s a hormone warzone
Boys are out for a fight
Wenches in the trenches
On a Saturday night.”
If loving this stuff is wrong – and I’m pretty sure
it is – I don’t want to be right.
Not even Buck Dharma’s prodigious genius can fully
pull the record out of this artificial muck, but holy crap does he come close.
For one thing, while this lighter sound drowns out Eric Bloom’s bluesy voice,
it actually suits Buck Dharma’s higher crooner voice well. Buck sings five of
the nine songs, all of which climb above the messy production to varying
degrees.
And nothing can hold back Dharma’s guitar. His solo
work on “Perfect Water” and “Spy in the House of the Night” are intense,
developing quickly and then gracefully resolving naturally back into the song early
enough to leave you wanting more.
The strangeness Blue Oyster Cult’s rock is known for
is stripped away a fair bit, but it shines through when it needs to,
particularly on the more odd numbers like “Perfect
Water” “When the War Comes” and “Shadow Warrior.”
“Perfect Water”
will have you wishing you could grow back your gills and return to the sea like
some modern day resident of Lovecraft’s Innsmouth. The song even references
Jacques Cousteau, who I am pretty sure was a Deep One.
“Shadow Warrior”
is about frickin’ ninjas! I needn’t remind you that this album came out in 1986
when ninjas were everywhere. Ninjas may no longer be a fad but damn it, they
are still pretty cool.
The album begins with two fairly straightforward
rock songs, “White Flags” and “Dancin’
in the Ruins” which are tame in song structure by Blue Oyster Cult fans, but
still good tracks. “Dancin’ in the Ruins”
even broke the top ten (how my high school colleague would have heard it, no
doubt). “White Flags” is kind of
sexy, with its half-closed eyes as metaphors for the white flags of surrender.
Should you start your BOC collection with “Club
Ninja”? No, don’t do that. However if someone else does it try not to be a dick.
Just congratulate them on the album’s good moments and then gently suggest “Fire of Unknown Origin” or “Secret Treaties” might also be to their liking.
Best
tracks: White
Flags, Perfect Water, Shadow Warrior
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