Blue Öyster Cult
Curse of the Hidden Mirror

December 15, 2010, today Marco, my friend or ex-friend, is blowing out thirty candles. It's been a while since we last spoke and even longer since we last saw each other. I just sent him a birthday message, he hasn't replied yet and I doubt he will... I know the type, a total sluggard: too much effort to even reply with a simple "Thanks." Oh well. It's been a year and a half without him now, although I have to be honest, we've shared many pleasant moments together.

The year 2008 was relatively pleasant and very unique: it was the year I had a belated calling to return to university, the year we lost Rick Wright and Stefano Rosso, and the year the summer was marked by Blue Oyster Cult concerts: in Rome in June at the beginning, and in Trezzo sull’Adda in September. In both cases, the cheapskate didn’t pay more than ten euros for both travel and ticket; to this day, I wonder how I put up with such a lazy person for so long.
I almost lost him in Trezzo (I wouldn't have lost anything, but anyway…) because of his eagerness to get a second giant beer (he ended up with three that evening) and consequently not joining me at the stage: at the end of the concert, I even managed to meet four out of five members, missing only bassist Rudy Sarzo, probably due to that loafer Marco, who stayed to smoke two cigarettes in the smoking area.

The only album I got autographed was the least representative of the band after “Club Ninja,” namely “Curse of the Hidden Mirror,” which I managed to get signed by Jules Randino, the young drummer, in June… in short, the least representative album signed by the least important band member: it was too obvious that I had to attend the second concert JUST to wait for the other band members and get their names on the cover of their work.
I bought "Curse of the Hidden Mirror" almost by chance one Saturday at the "Good Music" store in Chiavari the day before a four/five-hour trial work shift (or gap fill) at a restaurant in Zoagli, needless to say, I never went back, oh well.

Three years separate the previous (and slightly superior) “Heaven Forbid” from this (for now) latest work by the New York band. In the previous effort, one could listen to tracks of higher quality, even excellent as in the case of the wonderful “Harvest Moon,” which alone is worth buying the album, or the live remake of the classic “In the,” both text and music by Lanier (furthermore, one of my favorite songs by the quintet, despite being included in one of their more mediocre albums: “Mirrors”), but in this “Curse…” very little material is worthy of esteem.
Certainly, it's still a pleasant work, from one of the greatest bands of all time (no, I’m not a megalomaniac), the group just plays in their style, does it well, without a doubt, with well-prepared arrangements and perfect sounds and perfect in choice and taste, but it fails to find the right drive to be appreciated that extra bit that just about makes it. But let's analyze the whole work “track-by-track”: it starts with “Dance on Stilts,” an excellent guitar riff, a spectacular solo, Lanier sprinkling magic behind the keyboards for a full six minutes like never before: surely the best track among all. It’s no coincidence that it has been included as the opening track due to its direct appeal to the listener's emotional apparatus.
The next track significantly drops, the first eight seconds reminiscent of Hendrixian memory seem to promise well, but unfortunately, from Jimi it shifts to Bob (Marley), as the rhythms even turn into straightforward reggae (!), something unimaginable thirty years earlier for a band that seemed to be America’s answer to Black Sabbath.
“The old Gods return” fortunately raises the bar, even if the chorus appears unconvincing: the title seems to serve as an epitaph for the living legend that the five boys carry forward with courage and devotion; the old gods have returned, they’re not the same as many years ago, but they still know how to play the way only they can, and they prove it to you!
The pair “One step ahead of the devil” and “Pocket” seems to bring us back to the ‘70s, but it's the ‘70s played in the style of the 21st century, somewhat anachronistic overall but still enjoyable.
My ear immediately took delight in the pleasant chorus of “I just want to be bad,” a somewhat banal track but also commendable and easy to love, perhaps because of its stylistic simplicity, while the same pleasantness of interception can be said about the following “Here comes that feeling,” enriched by a precise and perfect vocal line and a simple but memorable riff, vocally interpreted by Buck Dharma's calm and gentle timbre: who, in this album, has also lent his voice in "Dance on Stilts," "Pocket," and "Stone of Love," which I will discuss further.
I would highlight “Out of darkness” for the wonderful introduction that repeats even before the chorus, though unfortunately, the latter turned out poorly in the composition process and doesn’t fit well with the verse.
Here we reach the second piece, after “Dance on Stilts,” in my personal order of preference, it is “Stone of love,” which I mentioned before: Buck Dharma's voice once again makes a splendid show of itself, in a track masterfully arranged as the opener, with the usual apt solo by Roeser (Donald's real name is Buck Dharma), good chords, and the usual skill of someone who knows their craft well.
We are almost at the end, here comes “Eye of hurricane,” good riff, but nothing incredible or spectacular, the keyboards improve the prospects, which give a tone where it lacks; the discourse concludes with the rhythmic “Good feel hungry,” good like all the ten preceding pieces but not excellent, little text. The weakest and most ordinary piece of the entire work.
What can I think, in summary, of “Curse of the hidden mirror”? A good work but not one that leaves significant auditory memories, an album more for the band aficionados rather than for the neophytes within the orbit of the Blue Oyster Cult cult.

Had it been an assignment and the five schoolboys were seated behind the desks with their instruments in hand, the grade could swing between six and seven: a six that is more than a “political six” given more for reverence than for actual pleasantness, a seven that certainly cannot be a full grade, let's say a “six to seven” (as it used to be in my day, who knows if it's still given…) can be the final compromise: and this is corroborated by the fact that it alternates more pleasant episodes but almost never excellent, with drops in tension that however never lead to boredom.
In any case. I feel compelled to recommend the live release from the following year: “A Long Day's Night”; the usual nostalgic operation, sure, but good in the function of a showcase to listen to Blue Oyster Cult as they perform their classics in the third millennium.
For curiosity lovers, in the same year of “Curse…” (2001), Elektra printed the long-playing “St. Cecilia: the Elektra recording,” material recorded thirty-one years prior and never released, not by Blue Oyster Cult but by White Soft Underbelly: in short, the previous lineup before the classic Blue Oyster Cult, which differs from the original lineup (Bloom, Roeser, Lanier, and the Bouchard brothers) due to the absence of bassist Joe Bouchard, with Andrew Winters fulfilling the role here. Well, the title of the album “Curse of the hidden mirror” is not a novelty related to 2001, but it is the title of a song present in this old work.