I don't feel any better!
LINQ
Rx and the Side Effects
LinqSongs
*
The Broadway show A Chorus Line contains a number titled “Dance Ten, Looks Three.” To extend the metaphor to the latest album by Linq (Diane Lincoln) it would come out “Politics Ten, Music One.”
There’s no faulting Linq’s motives—she wants to skewer the train wreck called the American healthcare system, one she’s seen close up and impersonal in her former job as a pharmacist. There are flashes of humor on the album, but basically she’s telling us that there is no good news—American health care will make you frustrated broke, addicted to drugs, and dead. She sings of the manner in which physicians fling pills at patients rather than treating them, of families who can’t afford to rescue loved ones from the grave, and how a business approach to medicine protects the bottom line by squeezing all compassion out of the equation.
She’ll get no argument from me, but the musical dressing in which she’s wrapped her message doesn’t offer enough relief. The lyrics are clunky, the vocals strained, and the arrangements old-fashioned. As is often the case in advocacy, elegance gives way to passion—you’ll find a lot of june-moon-spoon rhymes (and several forced ones) on this album; in fact, several of the songs seem more like casual conversations than crafted writing. In like fashion, Linq doesn’t have a lot of range left in her voice, so most of the vocals come out in a bland mid-range lacking in contrasts. If the instrumentation were more interesting this would be less noticeable. Alas, the production evokes 1970s folk rock in ways less retro than tired and dated.
If there’s a prescription for over-earnestness, Linq might want to take it. Otherwise this record’s purely for the convert ward.--LV
LINQ
Rx and the Side Effects
LinqSongs
*
The Broadway show A Chorus Line contains a number titled “Dance Ten, Looks Three.” To extend the metaphor to the latest album by Linq (Diane Lincoln) it would come out “Politics Ten, Music One.”
There’s no faulting Linq’s motives—she wants to skewer the train wreck called the American healthcare system, one she’s seen close up and impersonal in her former job as a pharmacist. There are flashes of humor on the album, but basically she’s telling us that there is no good news—American health care will make you frustrated broke, addicted to drugs, and dead. She sings of the manner in which physicians fling pills at patients rather than treating them, of families who can’t afford to rescue loved ones from the grave, and how a business approach to medicine protects the bottom line by squeezing all compassion out of the equation.
She’ll get no argument from me, but the musical dressing in which she’s wrapped her message doesn’t offer enough relief. The lyrics are clunky, the vocals strained, and the arrangements old-fashioned. As is often the case in advocacy, elegance gives way to passion—you’ll find a lot of june-moon-spoon rhymes (and several forced ones) on this album; in fact, several of the songs seem more like casual conversations than crafted writing. In like fashion, Linq doesn’t have a lot of range left in her voice, so most of the vocals come out in a bland mid-range lacking in contrasts. If the instrumentation were more interesting this would be less noticeable. Alas, the production evokes 1970s folk rock in ways less retro than tired and dated.
If there’s a prescription for over-earnestness, Linq might want to take it. Otherwise this record’s purely for the convert ward.--LV