Ferry makes a return to Roxy Music's late seventies commerical prime with a bittersweet set tinged with heartache and regret
At an artfully dishevelled 69, Bryan Ferry rolls back the years on his glittering 14th studio album. From word go we are left in no doubt that Avonmore (not a concept album about dairy products) seeks to re-connect with the glamorous demimonde of mid to late seventies Roxy Music.
Ferry prowls like a tuxedoed Pepé Le Pew over an exotica of sly grooves, flickers of wha wha guitar, alto sax, and gorgeous bass lines and a stately sense of romanticised ennui dominates.
He keeps it at a pleasant, foot-tapping low simmer throughout on these half rueful, half emboldened tales of love lost. The truest moment comes on the title track and it is quite an admission from the recently divorced singer - “I know there’s no sense in pretending/I’ll never fall in love again”.
Johnny Marr, reunited with Ferry for the first time since 1987's Bête Noire, co-wrote Soldier of Fortune but even his plangent guitar makes little impact. Fellow guitar legend Nile Rodgers proves a better foil on Avonmore.
One Night Stand does break sweat but less successful are the backwards tape loops on an extra mournful deconstruction of Stephen Sondheim’s Send in The Clowns and an anaemic version of Robert Palmer’s superb synth pop classic Johnny and Mary.
Avonmore is so very tasteful you might expect Ferry to intone a `thank you' at the end of each song and on Driving Me Wild, he sounds about as wild as a man who's just received a rather large bill from his tailor.
More lush and lost than lusty and louche, it’s hard to resist the image of Ferry rolling around his country pile wondering why he never got the respect and reverence of many of his peers and contemporaries. He certainly deserves it.
Alan Corr
