Human Touch Review

He fired the band, moved west, got married again and made a record about being reasonably content, and the result proves that contentment is not a subject he can write about. The playing is faultless and completely anonymous. The songs are built on shapes rather than ideas: a shuffle here, a soul progression there, a chorus that arrives on time and means nothing. Real World has a decent central image and is buried in gloss.

The title track is the only thing here anyone still plays and even that lives on its groove rather than its writing. Fifty eight minutes with no editing anywhere, no character with a name, no place with a street in it, which for this writer is a fundamental failure. Released on the same day as a second album, which split whatever attention there was and doubled the sense of a man with a lot of studio time and nothing pressing to say. The comeback took another decade.