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Title: Oh dear.
Review: I bought this album when it was first released, tried to listen to it once, groaned in disbelief and went back to the old stuff. I gave it a second spin today and still couldn't last out to the end. Compared with the earlier albums that could be beautiful, haunting, exciting, humerous and subversive, all at the same time, this one is just dreary to the power of ten, little more than a spoken-word recording of some new poems to a dreadful muzak background. I would have liked to listen to the poetry, as other reviewers have clearly managed to, but the whole thing just sounded so awful. How can a man who gave us Leaving Green Sleeves, Chelsea Hotel, Sisters of Mercy, Marianne and so many other wonderful - and wonderful-sounding - songs put his name to this dross?
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