Ric Ocasek
Quick Change World

In 1990, Ocasek and his Fireball Zone flopped. In 1993, when it seemed that Mr. Octasek, born in 1949, would never pick up a guitar again, a CD titled "Quick Change World" appeared in U.S. record stores.

One of those who bought it soon traveled to Europe and what did he find in a record store there? Another Ric CD, also dated 1993 (and with a better cover), titled "Negative Theater". Why this happened, two different albums for two different continents, is strange to explain. Considering that the two albums share six identical songs, it is even more peculiar.

Here's how things went: the project to follow Fireball Zone did foresee the title 'Quick Change World', but it was originally meant to be a double CD. The first part was to be composed of Ocasek's unmistakable pop-rock songs, radio-friendly as always, titled "Right Side", while the second, obviously "Left Side", was mostly comprised of spoken word and other experiments.

Back to us, after the failure of 'Fireball Zone', Reprise Records refused to release the double CD. "Make only one - they commanded him -. Include whichever tracks you want, but it must be one and one only". Ocasek could do nothing but "submit" to the wishes of a recording company that would never again be his, obtaining however a compromise: the entire "Left Side" would be released, although in Europe, under 'Negative Theater', and 'Quick Change World', though halved, would come out in the States. That’s not all: contrary, we hypothesize, to the desires of Reprise (wishing, one supposes, for an album of songs, preferably good ones), only half of Q.C.W. would consist of tracks taken from "Right Side"; for the other half, spoken word and experiments!

In short, the Ocasek we find before us is someone who has changed identity: he can still compose radio-friendly, but music for him has become extremely more meditative, crepuscular, maudit if you will. At other times it is just a background over which to recite his poetry-prose. And in 1993, Ocasek wants it known in America too, that he has changed. At least halfway.

Don’t be fooled by the quick metallic chatter of The Big Picture (1 min and 30 sec): the first seven tracks are all "Right Side". Starts with Don't Let Go, where Ocasek sings in a high pitch and sparsely sprinkles (thank God) keyboard sounds over a fair dose of guitars. Immediately after is Hard Times, with riffs to repeat endlessly, and hand clap-clap. Carsong-lIke chorus (this piece, one reads somewhere on the web, is an outtake from Heartbeat City). If it had been sung in a high pitch like the previous Don't Let Go, it would have been better. A Little Closer is a beautiful mid-tempo ballad like a pseudo-campfire guitar strum. The chorus is accompanied with a sort of mandolin to emphasize everything and the keyboard works wisely without overdoing it. If Hard Times came straight from Heartbeat City, Riding Shotgun was just released from 1997, the year of Door To Door: compare its chorus to that of Strap Me In. With Feeling's Got To Stay, you understand why a man who composes songs does so in a way that resembles himself (which is always better than resembling others, especially when they are less talented authors), but you will never understand why it must resemble itself even in the arrangements, in the sounds that made him famous. Does he do it because, among those who buy his records, there are nostalgics of those old pieces, or better still "of the sound" of those old pieces? Or because, deep down, he himself is the first (if not the only) nostalgic for those sounds, for that self? But wasn't he changed, didn't he turn towards "engaged" art?

She's On begins like Zip A Dee Doo Dah; then speaks for a couple of verses, letting you foresee the nightmare of spoken word, and finally luckily decides to hum a piece à la Come Back (previous cd), but less "linear" and more engaging, also thanks to the fact that this gentleman’s voice, when used to sing an octave above his standard, sounds pleasant, jovial, "credible". Worthy of a Cars greatest hits. Up to this point, whether you like it or not, whether you think it’s current, current but not too much, timeless, timeless but not too much, Ocasek is in great shape…

Unfortunately, though, the music becomes dark, the pitch of the voice drops and the echo is tenfold: welcome to the "Left Side" with I Still Believe (another one-and-a-half-minute piece). No sooner you immerse yourself in the atmosphere, Ocasek tries to drag you away with Come Alive, amid annoying voices that never stop chattering and cars screeching their new brake pads. Under the chaos, however, the well-defined and geometrically "two-dimensional" Ocasek song form reigns, with its usual 2chords2. Anyway, this tarantella-like dance in the exact center of a New York crossroad in broad daylight works, and sometimes the caustic can be good for the ears. Memorable is the "siren" solo! Quick Change World, the most representative song simply because it gives the title to the work, is downright awful. The lyrics might even be nice (complicated, but not minimalist at all) but the song simply doesn't exist. It isn't a song, no matter how well it’s played, and even as spoken word it’s worthless. What's On TV is better, starting with a mass scream in the square in front of the leader, and the distant roar of a battalion marching in step. Speaks-recites from a 1960s microphone at a Ted Kennedy press conference, our "new dark hero" Ocasek. Again, the song doesn't exist, but here the whole seems to be decidedly more arty. Hopped Up is if, in the '80s, an amalgamation was created between a handless (and pianoless) Jerry Lee Lewis and the Kenny Loggins of "Danger Zone", Top Gun’s soundtrack. An experiment, then. Also failed.

It ends with Help Me Find America, resembling a known country-patriotic song. Played beautifully, if you will… Ric’s whispered singing is repeated in a smooth echo. Produced so well that it appears-seems empty. Provided that I Still Believe, though so short, and Come Alive please me, and What's On TV is a successful track, I admit my preference leans towards the singing Ocasek and, although not all tracks in the first batch of songs are of high levels, I can state with certainty that it is the better half of this CD.

Perfectly played (i.e. perfectly as Ric Ocasek wanted, hence with his strengths and weaknesses) by unknowns (I’d love to know the drummer, named "Nano the 2'nd"), this is a work split in two, uneven, distorted by market needs, alien to the artist. Artists do well not to yield to conditions imposed by record companies, but do very poorly if they believe they can, by cutting here and pasting there, believe they can assemble a piece that, unbalanced as it is, could never and never stand on its own.

In this specific case, a CD, it’s worth remembering, does not have A sides and B sides, so the medium itself does not accommodate Ocasek’s shortcut-idea. Had he brought in, instead of those six final tracks, another six of his skillful pop-rock, it would have been an album to recommend to everyone.