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LA RECENSIONE

Martin Fry still dresses like in 1982 when he created the new pop alphabet of ABC with the fabulous "The Lexicon of Love." He's well into his 50s, but absolutely no one else wanted his lamé jackets, so he still wears them. Fry and ABC created an original sound, funk-pop that heavily drew from Motown and at the same time anticipated the house meteor by ten years.

For a couple of months now, at a cosmic distance from the lackluster predecessor "Skyscraping," this new album has been released which, for the writer, is yet another ringing reminder that there are only two, maybe three, happy moments in life. Fry has been going around for a few years now doing small concerts along with Tony Hadley, another exile making a living as a crooner, and I'm very sorry to say it, but he doesn't have much to offer anymore. ABC were among the brightest gems of the British pop scene thanks to monoliths like "The Look of Love" and "Poison Arrow," and they shattered their mental health by touring in Japan for a year. I understand them. Put on a lamé jacket for a year and see how you feel. They reversed course with a second album less pop, "Beauty Stab," cute but against the grain, then they played with cartoons with "How to Be a Millionaire" and closed the cycle of beautiful things with "Alphabet City." In subsequent "Up" and "Abracadabra," they couldn't replicate the freshness of the catchier songs (though "Love Conquers All" was a gem), and now here is the Padre Pio of ABC, the only one with stigmata, reappearing with an album that isn't even distantly related to those notes that put you in a good mood even if you hated the genre. Only "The Very First Time" (also a single, but do they still make singles?) remotely recalls the harmless catchiness of "The Lexicon of Love." The rest consists of eleven tracks by numbers, a compromise between a washed-out rock and radio pop that won't return, sometimes pleasant, but honestly, what are we talking about. Dear Martin, let us know.