Michael McDonald's big problem right now is his voice. Not that there's anything wrong with it from a technical standpoint; his pitch is sure, his range considerable, and few singers can slide into falsetto with the graceful confidence he regularly exhibits. His tone is another matter, though. Husky and raw, McDonald's voice seems to convey a sense of suffering, as if he's constantly choking back some secret sorrow. That came in handy for "I Keep Forgettin'," "What a Fool Believes" and all of the other soulful love songs he made his reputation on, but it's something of a liability when he tackles a tune requiring a little more edge, which is what he winds up attempting throughout No Lookin' Back.

It isn't that McDonald rocks out, exactly – for one thing, Ted Templeman's antiseptic production is so assiduously polished that it makes Hotel California sound like Highway to Hell – it's just that he's no longer content to float over a comfortable cushion of synthesizers. These songs are toughened up with beefy power guitars and a big, punchy drum sound that gives the album the basics of the AOR approach. Trouble is, McDonald is mostly overwhelmed by all the extras. Rather than cut through the burnished roar of the guitars, his breathy exhortations fade into the mix. Worse, his mumble-mouthed diction garbles the lyrics hopelessly; there are times when, without the lyric sheet, it would be difficult to tell even what language he's singing in.

But No Lookin' Back is so monumentally inconsequential it's doubtful that even righting those wrongs would have saved it. "Any Foolish Thing" does manage to stumble onto a bit of the old Doobies charm, but the bulk of this album is utter piffle. McDonald's inability to move beyond his vocal limitations suggests that he might be simply the musical equivalent of a character actor, doomed forever to those parts demanding his particular mannerisms. If so, he'd better pay more attention to how he's being cast. (RS 459)

J.D. CONSIDINE