Review of Dry Dreams

CMJ New Music Report
Review by Suzan Crane
24 May 198

There are two schools of thought on the merits of including a lyric sheet with an album. Some feel that drawing direct attention to the words detracts from the whole musical package; others find it enlightening (or laughable, depending on the profundity of the writer). In Jim Carroll’s case, the lyrics provide the only real element of interest or intrigue, so printing them on the sleeve can only be considered an imperative (and wise) move. The 10 songs on Dry Dreams, Carroll’s second album, each a substantial lyrical work, are anchored like uncharted islands in a lost and aimless sea of music. Some may find Carroll’s street-wise meanderings through his drug-laden hell tedious and pretentious, though his caustic, evocative poetic style is admirable. On paper. Unfortunately, his adeptness with language is diluted when put to song. Carroll proved with his first vinyl effort, Catholic Boy, that he’s no singer. Dry Dreams simply serves to reconfirm his status as poet cum laude – not poet cum vocalist. Despite contributions from a few illustrious musicians – Lenny Kaye, Randy Brecker, Walter Steding, Alan Lanier (the only player from the first album) – the orchestrations are just too thin and too bland to do justice to the words. It’s true that artists use their craft as therapy, and Carroll clearly engages in this concept. One gets the feeling that Dry Dreams, like his book Basketball Diaries, is a confessional catharsis for Carroll; his introspective musings reek of death and decay, remorse and disgust. “People Who Died” could easily be Carroll’s anthem, a preface to the pop elegies which were to come: “Still Life,” “Jody,” “Jealous Twin.” Again, that’s okay. Now, if the music was only half as inspired as Carroll’s prose, we might have had a fine record on our hands.