On its sixteenth album, Chicago is still relying on pomposity, brass (not to mention brassiness) and the same fusion of jazz, rock and blues that brought this original "faceless supergroup" into prominence more than a decade ago. Back then, Chicago succeeded as purveyors of white urban soul with a difference–but these days that difference sounds pretty tired. Chicago has fallen victim to its own diversified pretensions on its latest LP, and the sum of all the parts is overwhelmed by the parts themselves. For example, rugged lead vocals occasionally clash with slick, Air Supply-like backups, and rock-guitar licks collide with horns and violins. To be fair, this is a well-crafted album, and the few buoyantly energetic songs (such as "Sonny Think Twice") compensate somewhat for the unbearably clichéd ("Hard to Say I'm Sorry"). But unfortunately, the sense of humor or self-awareness that would make all the production values work is missing, and in the end, Chicago winds up taking itself much too seriously. (RS 379)

MICHAEL MUSTO