Todd Rundgren
A Cappella

There are many ways to propose an a cappella record: first of all, you can choose whether to get help from "specialists" in choral singing or not. Rundgren decides, in 1985, to do it all by himself, since he has always recorded, re-recorded, and overdubbed his voice as he pleases. And then Todd is just tired of playing, not of singing... So if you are a willing singer and a great producer, you still have a bunch of choices to make on how to bring out your a cappella record. You can make it, for example, classic or more daring. Todd doesn't even ask himself: it's natural that an a cappella album, for a virtuoso and multi-instrumentalist established for a decade, is already in itself a proof of courage, so if he's done thirty...

The title of this record should say it all, but alongside "Todd" and "Rundgren," "A Cappella" should be read "the songs performed a cappella according to the way Todd Rundgren understands a cappella music"... And a visionary-crazy-genius-misunderstood genius-incomprehensible genius-a wizard-a true star like Rundgren, if he decided to bring out an a cappella album, would have more than one possibility, more than one style to choose from, among those worthy of a "re-adapted"...

He could devote himself to his soft soul, which might end up sounding a bit spiritual ("Pretending To Come"), or maybe to chill ("Last Horizon"), or even land in pure gospel ("Hodja"), certainly not shining for originality but playing it safe; or he could filter his voice, manipulate it, indulge it, until reaching an orgasm of anti-music, anti-melodic, anti-song, anti-structure ("Miracle In The Bazaar"), even if by doing so he would risk veering a bit too far off the beaten path.

He could sing hymns of the American wage worker returning home at sunset along the way, singing with companions the folk song without guitars, since there's no one to carry a guitar if they have to work ("Honest Work")... He could devote himself to his 60s surf (the beloved Beach Boys know well what a chorus is!), but in the end, he would be wrong ("Mighty Love"); or delve into his exotic needs (and if I say exotic I don't mean bossanova and tex-mex), perhaps taking spiritual and who knows, reggae, marrying them and sending them on a honeymoon to visit Mother Africa ("Johnee Jingo"): I'm convinced it would be too strange for someone with twenty pop rock records under his belt, but also that it would surprise positively!

Taking his voice and treating it until it sounds like plasticized 80s keyboards isn't bad, but it can't be considered new either. It's just that, while others have keyboards that sound like plasticized mouths, Todd would have a plasticized mouth that sounds like a keyboard ("Something To Fall Back"), but what difference would there be, in essence, in the finished product, between the "Todd Rundgren's A Cappella Sound" and the normal pop of the time?

And then what would remain to make a daring but not incoherent work with past productions; different from himself and far from other artists; bold but not prohibitive; accessible but not predictable? Of course! His hard blues! Make it freeze-dried, "industrial-ized," add synthetic, false, obsessive, no-relief percussion (still "vocal," of course) ("Blue Orpheus"), perhaps putting something unexpected on top, like a rap, or more finely, a spoken word recitation ("Lockjaw").

Yes! This is the best path: the industrial hard blues... But Todd preferred, in "A Cappella" of 1985, to bring out the usual product, which is to say he set up the usual multinational of styles, giving them a least common denominator: the lack of instruments, a void filled (and not always completely) by production.

Training? Exercise in style? Experiment for its own sake? A bet with friends in a state of alcoholic intoxication? Definitely a great missed opportunity.