Somehow out of all of the 70's Southern Rock bands it was the Atlanta Rhythm Section who finagled a visit to the White House in the midst of their most successful year of existence. They also released this record, Champagne Jam, a glittering yet fairly nondescript toast to the professional musician studio rat lifestyle of the late 1970's. One can't help but imagine piles of snow beside rows of mixing consoles, stacks of tape reels, and wafting smoke trails as the title track or "Imaginary Lover" wailed their sybaritic tones aloud.

A flashy, borderline outrageous hybrid of Mountain's power-trio groovin', Simon and Garfunkel sensitivity, and flippant hippie attitude. Produced by Shadow Morton.

This is both an easy and difficult album to assess. Easy to write it off because it's essentially a pieced together jumble that suffers from its' dated-to-the-era production values. So where do the difficulties lie? Unlike the previous album (and even some earlier classics) I find it hard to tell if Walsh is trying to live up to his funny-man reputation here, or if the joke is on him, in a very self-deprecating manner. Which is what makes The Confessor an intriguing proposition. One distinguishing characteristic here are the large amount of session musicians compared to previous albums. That, and the aforementioned production job - especially the drums - which can come off as pretty sterile upon initial listens. Plus, Walsh himself plays a lot of synthesizer and talk box. BUT...unlike the previous album, the more you listen to this stuff, the more it grows on you, because of Walsh and his endearing, inviting style. The material is also pretty good. Not great, but good. The start is fairly lackluster with the lame reggae of "Problems" backed by the rambling diatribe "I Broke My Leg". Then the album kicks off in earnest with the genuinely funny yet sad sack "Bubbles". A couple of tracks later, Walsh gets down and dirty, and pokes fun at himself at the same time, on the raucous "15 Years". However, the undeniable focal point is the title track, which tone-wise feels like the most serious Joe has been in a long time, yet taken within the context of album, one cannot help but think it's deep cover for something less than.

Three years after Walsh's last solo album, two years after the last Eagles album of the 70's, and one year after the Eagles went their separate ways, Walsh essentially picked up where he left off with this irreverently titled affair. By now, we are at an uneasy crossroads (as were a lot of musicians from the 60's and 70's) - how to keep one's career going in the materialistic 80's, when values like artistry and musicianship were quickly out the window in favor of gross commercialism? Walsh's answer was to cultivate an alliance between his guitar playing and skewed sense of humor. However, on this particular album, the alliance is a shaky one. His choice of producer is odd: George "Chocolate" Perry, who was more versed in R&B and disco than anything else, and got his start with Miami's TK Records. Then there is the material itself, which is alright, except for one thing - Walsh's guitar playing is quite subdued compared to the albums preceding this one. Generally, it resembles the Long Run version of the Eagles, but with even more emphasis on funk and R&B, and of course, shades of traditional Walsh humor. I say shades because, sometimes Walsh contradicts himself, with some straight out depressing material - "Bones", which digs at 80's-style crass commercialism, "You Never Know", which many been have construed as snipes at his Eagles' band mates, and "Rivers (of the Hidden Funk)", which is technically sound, but emotionally lacking. The most memorable track, "Made Your Mind Up", gets by on a sunny piano riff, pretty vocal harmonies, and strangely resembles a Jackson Browne tune. Even when he sounds positive about things on well, "Things", one gets the feeling that it's a bit of a mask, and something's bothering him. And when he tries to be funny, well, there is "Down on the Farm", which feels forced. Hell, even the cover feels like a joke that missed its' mark. The strange thing about this is, unlike past albums, all of this makes for a rather flat listening experience. It appears that, like a lot of people, the dawn of the 80's appeared to leave Joe Walsh uninspired, at least compared to his 70's output.

A live album. Feels like another send-off to the early Barnstorm days, as the lineup that recorded But Seriously, Folks is already in place, and much of the material sounds different than the studio versions. For example, "Meadows" branches off into a goofy space-rock style ending. And this version of "Turn to Stone" plays on its own zoned-out plane. This is a nice recovery from the downgrade of the previous record and honestly, it would have been better if Joe had plowed through the transitional period from Barnstorm to the Eagles with one mega double live album instead. Just sayin'….