Blue Oyster Cult
Curse Of The Hidden Mirror

The ultra-seminal group from Long Island is still alive and well and continues to tour the United States, giving concerts here and there. Unfortunately, they stopped producing new material a while ago, and in fact, this, their most recent album of unreleased tracks, dates back to the now distant 2001. It's a shame, because it's really not bad at all, intriguing from the title ("The Curse of the Secret Mirror") decidedly in line with the many sci-fi and apocalyptic titles collected by this great band during its long career.

The album starts off a bit sluggish, but soon warms up thanks to a tremendous crescendo over the course of the first five songs. Getting into the details, the opening "Dance Of Still" is not very interesting: the guitar riff nibbled by its author Buck Dharma doesn't foreshadow effective developments.

However, by the second track "Showtime", the charm of the Blue Öyster Cult looms on the horizon, with the acid voice of the brave Eric Bloom slicing through verses and choruses as only he can. The bespectacled lead singer and rhythm guitarist continues to tower in the subsequent and even better "The Old Gods Return", oblique and dangerous as the releases of this group are known to be when he interprets them.

It's pleasing at this point to enjoy the new change of atmosphere and tension, with the return of the more relaxed and melancholic vocals of the other guitarist Dharma, in a superb "Pocket" that combines the suffocating rhythm and robust riffing of the best hard rock with the unparalleled melodic inspiration that distinguishes this musician, of short physical stature but towering artistic stature. The chorus is a delight, for how it unfolds adorned by clever responses from the companions and a beautiful lyric.

The grand finale of the already highlighted qualitative crescendo that characterizes this work is provided by the fifth track "One Step Ahead Of The Devil", the quintessence of BÖC's art in creating visionary and sinister hard rock, with Bloom even more unleashed, throwing his voice to the highest heights, while the compatriot drummer Bobby Rondinelli is left free to express all his creativity and desire for protagonism. Too often, the Blue Öyster Cult is forgotten when drafting the lists of the best rock bands, or the most influential, original, creative ones. This is mostly in Europe, because across the Atlantic they are a consolidated musical myth, especially for insiders, musicians, producers, and the like.

Halfway through, however, the album begins to decline in quality: "I Just Like To Be Bad" too markedly recycles melodic paths already heard in their repertoire, while "Here Comes That Feeling" has a banal, almost irritating chorus, although the admirable Donald Roeser aka Buck Dharma, a kind of America's David Gilmour (in the sense that, although different in both vocal and guitar style and tone, he shares with the great British soloist a huge endowment of musicality and fluidity), plays frighteningly well in it.

The last peak is represented by the ballad "Out Of The Darkness", rendered as far from soft as possible by the ever-fierce voice of Eric Bloom who then sings his last, fine melody on "Stone Of Love". But the closing of "Good To Feel Hungry" also sounds good due to a much more swinging setup than the rest of the album, with the electric guitar sound becoming thinner on the occasion and dueling, for once equally, with the organ of the late Allen Lanier, somewhat in the manner of Deep Purple.

This New York quintet has a permanent place in my personal Top Thirty of all-time rock, especially thanks to the emotional memory of the first, youthful listens to some of their most successful and captivating albums, filled with supreme compositional, executive, and lyrical substance. But even this late career product is more than worthy: the sounds are perfect, the guitar has special warmth and depth, the two singers, so different and so effective as ever, hold their own, the rhythm section travels at a thousand miles an hour (with Rondinelli a bit too much in the foreground, I find).

In my taste, BÖC is among the most perfect and timeless hard rock there is, a perfect mix between accessibility and edginess, all seasoned with heaps of personality and expertise, but without rust. Monstrously skilled now and always, even here at the twilight of their career, and with the ability not to tire. In one word: immortal.