These days, with the airwaves dominated by kiddie claptrap, it feels like an innovation when someone creates a record aimed at the adults who patronized VH1 even in the early days. Thus, although Robert Kramer's influences are obvious, the eight songs on this disc are a revelation. For example, despite the fact that the opening track, "Blood on the Full Moon", sounds like a Sting song circa Dream of the Blue Turtles, its slightly Jamaican roll, catchy chorus and jazz overtones are a delight. This stinging influence continues on the fantastic "Dona", a tune which borrows elements of the King of Pain's best work with the Police. Here, a pared-down verse butts up against a jumping chorus, with an unrelenting piano motif running throughout. "Walking Across my Grave" explores similar territory, while "Confession" effectively mines the big, embarrassing, pop ballad vein.
Despite the obvious foundations on which Kramer builds, his solid songwriting and convincing delivery enable him to hold his own without sounding derivative. Wisely, he includes touches of blue-eyed soul ("Real Love") and late '70s power ballads ("What am I Supposed to Do") among the jazzier numbers. This shows a good degree of scope, and I hope he explores further afield in his future work.
In addition to his writing talent, Kramer showcases his DIY chops; he's responsible for every sound on the album with the exception of some backing vocals on "Real Love". However, while this is an impressive achievement, it is also the album's primary shortcoming. Kramer is more than capable on vocals, keys and guitar, but the use of the drum machine leeches some of the music's energy. This creates a few lethargic moments and cripples the coda at the end of "Real Love", nearly destroying the song. Such problems have hampered other solo musicians (see, for example, the woeful Tears for Fears album Elemental), but with any luck, this demo will be enough to secure Kramer sufficient funding to hire some session musicians. With the proper backing band, Kramer has the talents necessary to produce a mature album that will rival the best works of Sting, Michael Penn and other top-notch adult contemporary musicians. While enjoying this radio-friendly album puts you at risk of destroying any indie cred you may have developed, feel free to make this one of the guilty pleasures you hide in your collection. I promise not to tell anyone.
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