Crowbar changed their approach somewhat, transitioning from the 50's inspired barrel house boogie of the previous album to heavier, more progressive, and R&B sounds for Heavy Duty. But in the process, they lose a lot of what made them unique in the first place. "Trilby" is a promising start, but from then on in Kelly Jay and his crew meander in search of something tangible and not entirely getting it. Ultimately, a spotty follow-up that has its moments.

I expected to hear a decline going by the few mainstream reviews I had read in advance, but from a number of angles this is an uptick from Walsh's previous 80's output, so I am not sure what the critics were thinking. Produced by long time ZZ Top associate Terry Manning (and recorded in Memphis), Got Any Gum strikes a fairly nice balance between arena rock, sparky humor, and more substantial material. Helping out is his old Barnstorm mate Joe Vitale, along with bass player Rick Rosas. "The Radio Song" and "In My Car" were hits on rock radio stations, but the good stuff comes about midway through the record. "Mailbu" is notable thanks to an extended rush of excellent Walsh soloing, followed by "Half the Time", which is marked by lots of traditional Walsh irreverence. The second half standout has to be "No Peace in the Jungle", a very mysterious track which would fit in perfectly back in the Barnstorm days. Deceptively titled to make you think it's a toss-off, this is a surprisingly strong effort and probably deserved more attention than it actually received at the time.

Walsh's second album of the 80's improves upon the apathy of the previous record but also has its' flaws, and overall, has to be taken with a few grains of salt. Once again, "Chocolate" Perry is in the producer's chair, along with long time James Gang and Eagles associate Bill Szymczyk, and in the very least the vibe is more adventurous for the listener. Furthermore, Walsh really turns up the volume as far as his "Clown Prince of Rock" role goes, with some risqué material. Curiously, the album doesn't start that way, with "I Can Play That Rock and Roll" and "Told You So" being the first two tracks and playing it rather safe, but even here, Walsh's guitar is more prominent and his vocals have more of a loony edge to them. However, the album doesn't get rolling until the third track, "Here We Are Now", which is a very pleasant and harmonious reggae-style exercise which might have fit in with quirky vibe that There Goes the Neighborhood was going for, if Walsh had bothered to branch out into this realm. From here, it's a bit more anything goes: "The Worry Song" is a Perry/Walsh collaboration that updates Joe to the realities of the 80's - both technically and socially - and does a fairly adept job, because at the end of the day, Joe's mantra is usually pretty much, "why worry?" And this is followed up by the first of three collaborations between Walsh and his old buddy Joe Vitale, the raunchy tack piano-driven goof "I.L.B.T.s" - which, if you bother to unravel the acronym, doesn't have anything to do with BLT's. Vitale/Walsh next comment on the then-video game craze on "Space Age Whiz Kids", which for me is notable more for how well they arrange their instruments to make them sound like an 80's video game, than any wise-crackin' lyrical commentary within the track. The rest of the album harkens back to late 70's Walsh - "Class of '65", "Shadows", and "Theme from Island Weirdos" (the last Vitale/Walsh contribution) function together as one mysterious suite intended to look back on the past with fondness and longing, rather than the static bitterness of the last record. If I was to go strictly by the letter of the law here, I would actually apply the previous album's title to this one, because it seems more appropriate, in this case. Then again, it does not mean we are talking about a serious improvement from one album to the next, either. It just means there was more of the classic Walsh attitude infused into this record, that's all.

This is not Joe Walsh's stand-up comedy album, but it is a bit different than the three Barnstorm records that were recorded in the earlier part of the decade. Gone is the askew imagery of bi-planes, aviator goggles, and lonely homesteads, and in its' place is a party-time Walsh somewhere near the Keys trying to fix a hole in his damn boat underwater after three or four drinks. Strangely enough, the change in scenery gives the man a boost of needed inspiration. The first half of the album deals with past memories and gradually builds from easy, innocuous rhythms, into the innocent wonder of "Indian Summer", to the all-out attack and aggression of "At The Station". However, where the album really stands out is on a mesmerizing second half that cruises to self-effacing victory on the strength of "Life's Been Good", a shiny pop-rock anthem tailor-made for the late 70's, and "Theme From Boat Weirdos", which is great mystery theater. As a whole the album plays out like that last great vacation you thought you would never get to take, flocks of wah-wahs included.

The third Barnstorm album, and already the lines are being blurred between the band concept, with Walsh co-mingling with his buddies from the Eagles, even though he would not be officially joining them for another couple of years. From a number of angles, this was not a bad move, and a thoroughly logical one, but if you were hoping from some sort of progression from the previous two albums, forget it. So What further dilutes the formula created by the initial Barnstorm record - there's lots of weird, Western-themed atmosphere, good guitar playing, occasional artistic tangents, and a re-do of an old hit - but nothing much from the bag of Walsh tricks that we have not seen before. That's not to say it's not an entertaining record, because it is, but if you want the real inventive stuff, I point you straight back to 1972. The remake of "Turn to Stone" is a bit of a disappointment for me. I prefer the original version with its' chunky and dirty sound, whereas this version is lighter, cleaner, with backing vocals from three-fourths of the Eagles, and does not convey the cold desperation of the original. And why are we still quoting Maurice Ravel? Didn't Walsh do this way back when he was still in the James Gang? It just seems like "Pavanne" was done for contrast only. Another interlude I can do without is "All Night Laundry Mat Blues". Still, there is a nice collection of three tracks which go down as classics in Walsh lore. "Welcome to the Club" has a similar feel to "Here We Go" from the debut record, but with the tempo slightly faster. "Time Out", on the other hand, evokes memories of "Mother Says", without some of that track's epic feel. And if you are looking for a semi-worthy successor to the original version of "Turn to Stone", look no further than "County Fair", which takes the listener through a myriad of moods and changes. Overall, though, I echo the sentiments put forth by title - so what, Joe, and what's next?