Bad Company
Rough Diamonds

THE REVIEW

The Bad Company, who historically might have deserved greater consideration, morally ended their career with this "Rough Diamonds" released in 1982. In addition to being the last studio album with the original line-up, it represents a desperate attempt to regain some credibility in the British blues revival and the hard-rock scene.

The overall result is a depressing obituary that marks the departure of a band that had in its roots (think of the stunning debut album) the raw drama of Free as well as the commendable contribution of King Crimson alum Boz Burrell and the guitar work of Mick Ralphs (Ex Mott The Hoople). "Rough Diamonds" is an incredibly banal album, stereotypical and devoid of any convincing idea: easily describable as a simplistic jumble of past references, a lot of pop-blues and very little Hard-Rock. Much emphasis is placed on the keyboards, while the guitars seem like a handbook of ready licks for blues novices. Paul Rodgers’ voice, always the most respectable element of the group, seems to disappear with desperate resignation into the foggy lack of originality.

The opener of side one, "Electric Land", is the only true success of the record, besides being the only track to decisively stand out from the negligible and tiring level of the remaining songs. "Untie The Knot" is a lackluster pop homework that bizarrely recalls Toto. Into the blues revival pot without too many pretensions fall "Nuthin' On The TV", the gaudy and simple rock and roll of "Ballad Of The Band" and the folk-tinted "Cross Country Boy". "Painted Face" seems to open with a pleasing melodic structure but ends up pathetically with a keyboard use fit for an '80s cartoon theme. "Kickdown", placed at the close of side one, is a decent, easily forgettable piece, where however Paul Rodgers clearly displays his undeniable talents. Negligible are the remaining "Old Mexico", "Racetrack", and the embarrassing funky nonsense of "Downhill Ryder".

The record, with a die-cut cover, inside with '70s saloon-style photos among Texan hats, prostitutes, and casinos, sits on the second shelf of my discography, which I use to give space to records that deserve easy access.