Reality Killed the Video Star Robbie Williams Artist

{|Robbie Williams|}' {|Rudebox|} was one of the most enjoyable records of his career, but it wasn't a commercial success. Its follow-up, {|Reality Killed the Video Star|}, attempts to right the ship, and as such, it becomes everything its predecessor... Read more

{|Robbie Williams|}' {|Rudebox|} was one of the most enjoyable records of his career, but it wasn't a commercial success. Its follow-up, {|Reality Killed the Video Star|}, attempts to right the ship, and as such, it becomes everything its predecessor was not. Recorded with a single producer, the estimable {|Trevor Horn|}, but encompassing songs and sessions with a variety of writing partners ({|Guy Chambers|} and {|Soul Mekanik|}, among others), the songs sound rushed and the performances lackluster. Given an MOR blockbuster production by {|Horn|}, and with arrangements by his longtime co-writer {|Anne Dudley|}, {|Reality Killed the Video Star|} certainly has the sound it needs to succeed with {|Williams|}' aging audience and clean up on {|BBC Radio 2|}. Granted, {|Robbie Williams|} is an excellent ballads singer, well suited for this grandiose backing, but unfortunately the lyrics don't stand up to the pressure. {|Blasphemy|} has the worst offenders, beginning with What's so great about the great depression?/Was it a blast for you? 'Cause it's blasphemy. One song later, {|Williams|} declares This is a song full of metaphors, then fills it with a chorus beyond mindless: Do, ooh ooh, ooh, ooh ya mind/If I, I-I, I, I, I-I-I touch you? At least the album is front-loaded with quality, beginning with {|Morning Sun,|} the best and most deeply felt song on the album. Apparently written after the death of {|Michael Jackson|}, it begins with a classic example of the taken-two-ways lyric: How do you rate the morning sun. Second is {|Bodies,|} the first song to be released from the album, and it's the last glimpse of clear quality and inventiveness on the entire album. {|Reality Killed the Video Star|} may not be a denouement for {|Robbie Williams|}; it's not decidedly worse than 2002's {|Escapology|}, it's just bad in a different way. Whereas {|Escapology|} found {|Robbie|} disappearing into his own neuroses, this one is a hopeless melange of satire and sincerity where, from song to song, neither can immediately be distinguished. ~ John Bush Less