Tim Brough's Black Leather Bookshelf

Boys and Girls are now Men and Women
3 Out of 5 Stars
Bryan Ferry still sounds like the slick Lothario he invented for himself some 30 odd years ago. With "Olympia," the suave and dapper Ferry seems to be walking the same ground he always has. While there are some really cool numbers here, there's something missing. The crooner is still oozing sophistication in a very dapper outfit, but the suit is, upon closer inspection, the same one he's always worn. Now the cuffs are getting frayed.

The earliest hint is the first sound on the album; "You Can Dance" opens with a sample from Roxy's brilliant farewell, "Avalon." There's also the much ballyhooed guest appearances from Brian Eno, Phil Manzanera, and Andy MacKay. If that isn't enough to make you wonder if Roxy wasn't in the fore of all involved party's minds, there is the photo of Kate Moss, draped across the cover like those grand old 70's album covers. Yes, Ferry's evocative. However, he's rarely been this eager to invoke.

It makes "Olympia" a 50/50 affair. When it works - the sublime "Heartache By Numbers, for instance, or the funky "BF Bass" - that old magic creeps up on you. His choice in a good cover serves him well, as his take on Traffic's ""No Face, No Name, No Number" are enough to make you forget the horror of "Dylanesque." The synths on "Tender Is The Night" are icy and haunting, bringing the album to a satisfying conclusion. But I am so used to being able to play a Bryan Ferry album from end to end without any clinkers (almost all the Roxy Catalog, most of his solos till "Mamouna" in 1994), that even a return to form such as this is merely a beautiful echo.

On The Road to Avalon
4 out of 5 Stars

Bryan Ferry's evolutionary molding of Roxy Music hit a creative path that started with Manifesto and peaked with Avalon, and "Flesh and Blood" was the bridge between the two. He maintained the artiness of the music and removed the quirks, allowing the sound to become as smooth as silk. By now, Roxy was essentially a vehicle for Ferry, who had reduced the band to himself, Phil Manzanera and Andy Mackay.

There's a show of slick soul/disco/lounge here, bridging the poppier "Manifesto" to the sophisticated arrangements of "Avalon." Ferry's old lounge instincts appear via F+B's two covers, "Eight Miles High" and "In The Midnight Hour." I have often thought these were included as a last stab at an American hit, while in England, both the soulful "Over You" and "Same Old Scene" became hits. ("Same Old Scene" also found its way onto the cult movie Times Square Soundtrack.)

While not as brilliant as their "Avalon" swan song, "Flesh and Blood" at least compares to such later Ferry solo albums as Bête Noire or Mamouna. If that's the Bryan Ferry you prefer, "Flesh + Blood" will suit you fine.