Enuff Z'Nuff
Strength

1991.

Donnie Vie

Chip Z'Nuff

Viky Foxx

Derek Frigo (R.I.P.)

John Frigo (Derek's father, on violin)

The indispensability of the case.

When you place the vinyl on the deck, and after 15 seconds the needle has already shown you what you're dealing with, you just need a moment to recover from the sudden shock. Then you gain consciousness and understand that the entire stylistic hallmark of a genre lies here. There were already ample warnings with their self-titled debut album, but with Strength the conversation takes such a unique and singular turn that even Enuff Z'Nuff will never again be able to replicate it.

Strength is a showcase of the best of 80s/90s glam rock, a gallery of wonders wrapped in colorful chupa chups wrappers, the best expression of a genre where all the influences it generated and absorbed converge and vaporize.

Swords that cut veins.

Seemingly made of cotton candy, Enuff Z'Nuff remains today so consistent with themselves that they haven't changed lacquer in the last twenty years. Catalysts of glam rock at 360 degrees, they deeply embody a lifestyle. They are decadent, multicolored, aggressive, lipstick and bullets, refined and full of frills. They love appearing as they are and not as what pleases others. Romantic like few, they are victims of a chronic melancholy capable of smearing even their most frenzied pieces. They are the human version of an apparently inhuman genre. Truly self-destructive in fact. For their experiences, I would define them as the true sword in the stone. Many were in words.

Intoxicating substance.

Strength is a multivitamin shake with a high rate of addiction potential, a generator of dependency. Street, blues, rock n' roll, retro, oldies, Beatles, hard rock, songwriter influences assembled into a chewable gum that makes me think of a quirky definition: gum rock.

A rainbow jumps from track to track fighting against an inconsolable sky that cries acidic rain. Buttery and whip-like sounds that do not dare to cross the threshold of sonic violence because they aim for something different: to carry (see artwork) all the weight of world peace. From "Heaven or hell" to "Time to let you go" there is no room for pauses, only room for imagination. Enuff Z'Nuff are not dreamlike but could be considered visionaries, bringing to life the dream each of us would like to recur. A complicit penetration ("Heaven or hell") or caresses under linen sheets ("Mother's eyes") blend with bitter tears of joy ("Time to let you go") and a slightly hippie protest spirit ("The world is a gutter"), passing through an emotional prism that neglects nothing, not even the most culpable alcoholism ("Missing you"). Everything else is rock encyclopedia.

Cash in.

Perhaps not even too much, but surely this album has allowed the amorous Enuff Z'Nuff a long life. Unfortunately, the case, the wooden one, has embalmed one of the group members, sealing what I (alas) was saying. To him, I dedicate what I have written, not for the form but for the substance.