Atlanta Rhythm Section
The Boys from Doraville

THE REVIEW

The Doraville guys are the six musicians of the group depicted on the cover, this time not illustrated and unfortunately replacing their beautiful ARS logo, which I find regrettable. The recording studio where they met and then came together, producing all their albums so far (since it belonged to their producer), is located in this Georgian town immortalized in the title, just outside Atlanta, somewhat like Monza to Milan, or Tivoli to Rome.

In the foreground, frontman Ronnie Hammond is looking at us, the one with the sexy voice, yet strong and gritty enough to stand out above the rock drive of his companions. The chubby guy with glasses is the bassist Paul Goddard, a lifelong devotee of his Rickenbacker, which isn’t exactly a southern rock instrument (it’s the one McCartney uses, that Chris Squire used in Yes…), but he certainly knows how to make it sound great.

The group’s two guitarists are behind the singer. The ace Barry Bailey is on the left, while his high-caliber partner J.R. Cobb, a slide guitar specialist, is the mustachioed guy in the center of the photo. The portly pianist Dean Daughtry is in the background, the one with the flying mane, and above him is the new drummer since the original one left because he wanted to play only rock and didn’t like Hammond’s chick-catching ballads.

The album is a step back from the last two, three, four previous works. Nevertheless, it contains a couple of gems, the brightest of which is titled “I Ain’t Much”: what can I say… it rolls wisely and evocatively from the first to the last second, filled with warm and energetic musicality, vibrant, right, noble.

The other distinctive contribution, “Putting My Faith in Love,” is less marvelously smooth than the other but equally filled with melody, charm, and manly attributes. It moves in a more discontinuous manner, with hesitations and reprises, yet it makes a good impression. Also commendable is “Next Year’s Rock’n’Roll.”

The album sells much less than the previous ones. The record label Polydor, having gotten too used to success, promptly drops them without much courtesy. After all, it’s 1980, and there’s a need to follow the new New Wave… But what the heck! (I borrow from an Assi Auto advertisement, with the guy stopping midway through an expletive because his little daughter is there listening).

Only four stars, but it’s just an episode. New great albums will come, even though unfortunately the band’s popularity now begins a downward slope, which they won’t be able to effectively halt.