After one album without a number for a title, Chicago has reverted to its practice of tagging releases like so many pieces off the assembly line. This gauche move isn't the only aspect of 13 that invites derision: the band consistently displays such an unironic "have a nice day" attitude that you begin to entertain suspicions it's gone prematurely senile.

But Chicago hasn't degenerated. These musicians are simply employing the same hokey tricks they always did. "Street Player," the endless ramble that opens side one, uses an extended rhythm passage and bellowing horns for no discernible purpose except padding. "Aloha Mama" and "Mama Take" are the sort of glib jive that's ultimately just patronizing. "Run Away," an ode to escapism, serves as an unpleasant reminder of what happened to all of the free-spirit tenets Chicago had once parroted so proudly.

Robert Lamm's "Reruns" is a rare example of the group severely restricting its scope and coming up with a passable romantic bonbon. Otherwise, Chicago's art is the usual cosmetic affair: a Stevie Wonder inflection in the profoundly titled "Life Is What It Is" means class. Donnie Dacus playing guitar with surly lethargy in "Must Have Been Crazy" equals rock & roll. Guest shots from Maynard Ferguson and Airto Moreira result in jazz. Yet, for all the bland (and ineffective) calculation, it's hard to find this band offensive — it doesn't exhibit enough smarts for that. Because they're too stupefying to be taken seriously, the only people these guys are likely to fool are themselves. (RS 304)

JON YOUNG