A lot of what passes for rock & roll these days has more to do with sound – fat guitar chords, thick keyboard textures, crisp drum accents – than with solid riffs and passionate delivery. It's no surprise, then, that one of the hottest acts around is studio wunderkind Aldo Nova; his eponymously titled debut LP is so single-mindedly devoted to surface flash that what little substance it contains seems to have been tossed in as an after-thought. Thundering power chords, chirping synthesizers and fleet-fingered leads abound, each carefully equalized, phased, flanged or otherwise shaped by machines into meticulously manicured sonic landscapes. Nova's prodigious skills as a soundsmith are so awesome, in fact, you almost don't notice how predictable and cliché-ridden his songs are, or how vapid his solos turn out to be.

Ultimately, Nova's reedy, whiny voice is his undoing. Unable to match his sound effects with the melodramatic bellowing they demand, Nova fails even by the limited standards dictated by his hard-pop approach. Just goes to show that there are some things that even a good mix can't fix. (RS 373)

J.D. CONSIDINE