Lenny Kravitz: Circus : Music Reviews : Rolling Stone

Album Reviews

In the title track of Lenny Kravitz's new album, the singer struggles with the dictates of reality that come to bear on fantasy. "Welcome to the real world," he sings to himself. But in the real world according to Kravitz, rock stars still flash diamond rings and coke spoons, and bumper-sticker platitudes like god is love still soften the blows of the real real world. In all its kaleidoscopic glory, Kravitz's world looks more like a B movie about an early-'70s rocker trying to find his identity among the gods: Hendrix, Zeppelin, Sly, Funkadelic.

Of course, being out of step is nothing new for Kravitz. When he sneaked the flower-powered Let Love Rule in between the controversies surrounding Public Enemy and Guns n' Roses back in the late '80s, it was as though a Deadhead had slouched into South Central Los Angeles during the Rodney King riots. Low-fi production, a psychedelic video, hippie idealism – it was a hook-laden sound for sore ears. It was also denial. By the time Are You Gonna Go My Way was released in 1993, Kravitz had honed his classic riffs and archaic sentiments into a seamless collection of hard-rock bombast tempered by cool Marvin Gaye sensuality, hot Prince-like sexuality, sweet Smokey Robinson pop, even a touch of Bob Marley reggae. It was total ear candy – all hooks and conviction with little of the originals' spirit.

Ironically, the epic scope of Are You Gonna Go My Way could have been Kravitz's spring-board to a solid identity. Instead, on Circus he dives headfirst into the shallowest regions of the classic-rock watering hole. The result is as superficial as the album's first single, "Rock n' Roll Is Dead." Over Jimmy Page and John Bonham riffs, Kravitz announces the demise of the kind of rock & roll lifestyle that was already an anachronism when Guns n' Roses revived it in the late '80s. Never one to let subtlety get in his way, Kravitz cruises into "Magdelene" – a song about a sexy scene-maker who winds up working the strip-joint circuit – with a trite "She was only 17." He cribs shamelessly from Hendrix's "Crosstown Traffic" in "Tunnel Vision" – a song that undermines itself with a lifeless guitar solo – and draws from the Stones/Rod Stewart acoustic arsenal for the saccharine power ballad "Can't Get You off My Mind." Even at their sharpest, the chops on Circus pale next to the scorching title track of Kravitz's previous album and the funky "Always on the Run," from Mama Said.

The dilemma for Kravitz is that no matter how much he would like to be a Hendrix-style rocker – from his furry coats and crushed-velvet pants right down to his Flying V guitar, analog production and pseudocosmic lyrics – his forte is the soul song. When Kravitz's music works, it's not in his burlesque impression of Hendrix's singing voice but in the way he occasionally kicks into an honest-sounding emotionalism worthy of Al Green. Yet on Circus, Kravitz buries the few funk and R&B moves under a cloddish, Zep-style crunch. While that might have been nostalgically pleasing five years ago, today Kravitz's retro shtick has been eclipsed by an army of newer bands – Pearl Jam, Soundgarden et al. – that pluck from the past while addressing the more complex issues that resonate for a younger guitar-rock audience.

Which is not to say that Circus is wholly unlistenable. Kravitz is a master studio craftsman whose encyclopedic knowledge of vintage gadgetry is impressive. In the past he has applied the doubled vocal techniques of John Lennon's early solo albums to great effect. On Circus he combines a beat-box rhythm track with a Hammond B-3 organ and a Mini-Moog synthesizer for the cool, minimal backing groove of "Don't Go and Put a Bullet in Your Head." On "Thin Ice" his guitar's delay plays against rubbery bass and syncopated drums for a smooth, midtempo boogie ride.

Flagrant appropriation has been a hall-mark for Kravitz since Let Love Rule, but on most of Circus' tracks, it finally becomes redundant, rendering the guilty pleasures few and far between. Fortunately, Kravitz wraps the dubious Christian themes of "God," "In My Life Today" and "The Resurrection" in layers of woozy psychedelia. Still, the embarrassing sexual-spiritual manipulation of "Beyond the 7th Sky" rings through loud and clear: "As the spirit covers our electrified rage," he tells his lady, "Hold me, mama/And we'll fly across the sea/Way beyond the moon and stars and sky/I'm talkin' 'bout you and God and I." Mama?

Whereas Kravitz's last album at least offered several possible new paths for him, Circus finds him falling back on the most transparent one. Whether it's a calculated attempt to cash in on arena rock while it's all the rage again or an unshakable desire to re-create the 70s-style rock star in his own image is hard to say. What's clear is that Kravitz is not the slick reassembler of funk, R&B and classic rock that he was two years ago. And if there's still a place in the real world for his Zeppelin retreads – for the classic-rock fan tired of hearing "Rock & Roll" for the zillionth time, perhaps – that's a mighty narrow corner.