A decent, yet misguided attempt at carrying on the Foghat name Next up in the seemingly never-ending Foghat saga - which is still ongoing to this very day - is this album, which not even the sad passing of Lonesome Dave Peverett from cancer, could delay. By this time, Rod Price had left the band, for the second and final time. Their replacements were clearly nods to the nostalgia for arena rock in the 70's - for Lonesome Dave, there was Charlie Huhn, most known for his stint with Ted Nugent in the late 70's and early 80's. And for Price, it was Bryan Bassett, who played guitar for disco one-hit Wild Cherry, and later on in a dueling version of Foghat with Lonesome Dave in the early 90's, before the reunion album of '94. The combination of these guys, with Earl and Stevens, as you might imagine, is more low-brow than the original item. Huhn's vocals range from a generic take on Lonesome's Dave honest man theatrics to a karaoke-ish imitation of Brian Johnson from AC/DC, and the material is about in the same ballpark as well. "She loves my mumbo jumbo" is the tone setter here, and despite the lack of creativity, there is more than infectious enough energy to drive the point home. It's just that the personality, class, and craftsmanship is sorely missing from the Huhn-Bassett team, and there is subject matter here which a guy like Peverett would definitely stay away from, or at least rephrase in a better fashion ("Sex with my Ex" is especially ridiculous).

Somehow, this was the album which broke the band's lengthy streak of records which went either gold or platinum in the U.S., which was strange, because it's not radically different than the ones which came before it. The only real change is from the production end, where you notice more New Wave elements creeping into the mix, but other than that - the goddamn record is called Boogie Motel, so if you were a fan of this kind of music - was there anything else missing? Well, I guess - from a hardened barfly rocker sort of perspective - the first two or three tracks could be seen as some sort of minor sellout, but I like them. "Somebody's Been Sleeping in my Bed" is the only cover here, and oddly enough, an R&B one, with noticeable dance-floor overtones among the normal slide riffs and drunken chants you find on a Foghat tune. "Third Time Lucky (First Time I Was a Fool)", though, is a bit more of an anomaly - not like ballads and slow songs were foreign to these guys, but this was an out-and-out pop ballad eyeing chart success, and sort of getting it - it made the Top 30 in late '79. I mean, it's nice and thoughtful and well-intentioned, but so syrupy one starts to wonder if the correct record is playing or not. Then, the quasi-New Wave/disco bass-line of "Comin' Down with Love" pumps through your stereo, and you really begin to wonder, until "The Bottle" and his guitar attacks with aplomb. Furthermore, there's "Paradise Alley", a track which brings back those forlorn, desperate feelings as earlier tracks like "Midnight Madness" and "Hate to See You Go" did - this time describing Dave's encounter with a long-lost love turned street-person. Everything on this track dials into the desperation and overwhelming sadness of the story - amazing how this so-called no-name party band had such a knack for material like this. And then they turn around and cut a cheesy mother of a party tune if there ever was one, which is the title track, replete with butt-wiggling bass and guitar lines, sax solos, and stupid stories about shacking up in a sleazy motel which is somewhere "between heaven and hell". Cheap entertainment at its' finest. For my money, they probably could have cut the album right there, but there are two more tracks ("Love in Motion" and "Nervous Release") which end up feeling rather nondescript next to what has come before it.

The last album in their original run, and it is somewhat better than one would expect. Roger Earl's drums are completely in the mold of loud, unnecessarily rude and "thwacky", and the overall sound is hopelessly dated to the mid-1980's, yet, there is some pretty decent material here, and even a few really good songs. Surprisingly, the very best comes from guitarist Erik Cartwright - the peppy-catchy pop-rocker "Jenny Don't Mind" - which comes off as tailor-made for then-MTV audiences. Elsewhere, a lot of this stuff is reminiscent of American New Wave stuff like The Cars ("That's What Love Can Do", the title track), although they steadfastly keep their blues cred in place through some cover tunes and even an appearance from old stalwart Paul Butterfield playing harmonica on one track ("Seven Day Weekend"). Worth a few spins, in the very least.

I almost want to say, "what happened", but…OK, I am going to say it, although, there were signs of this in the cards, from the last couple of albums. Tight Shoes is the first Foghat record that shows serious slippage in quality and sheer entertainment value. But then again, these guys had been at it for a while, and this being their 9th record in a row, one could not expect the good times to keep rolling. People might peek the date, listen to the album, and claim New Wave was to blame, but I do not think that was the issue here. The big problem is, the fire and passion has left Foghat, and what you hear is a bunch of guys going through the motions of making another record, reaching for something and attempting to stay fresh, but coming up a bit short. Probably the first indicator is the songwriting - all of it from Dave Peverett, when in the past albums consisted many Dave and Rod Price collabs, and a few interesting covers. Second, everything is in the same coked-out 80's rocker tone that is somewhere between hair metal and generic barroom blues. Third and maybe most important, the rushed feel of each and every song, as if everyone wanted to cut the record as fast as possible, because the simple act of being in the studio together was a chore. One thing I will say is, the anguish and desperation of the material matches the strung-out tone of the music itself, which does make this album a fairly nice candidate for a listening companion if you find yourself in a similar state of mind. Incidentally, this would the last Foghat album which Rod Price would play guitar on, until the mid-90's.

Foghat busted free from their Savoy Brown chains and promptly released an album which was not too stylistically different than their former crew, but in many places, more personable. That said, other than a few tracks, we are a long ways from the group's mid-70's heyday, and if you really want to split hairs, it's only the lead-off cover of "I Just Want to Make Love to You" which really sets them apart from the competition. But, if you want to just have one something to set you apart, then this is it, because Peverett, Price, and crew push it to the limit and then some, putting some real butt-kicking, proto-metal energy into Muddy's earlier blues classic. The flipside of this, is quite the arty, atmospheric cover of "Gotta Get to Know You", brought to a different kind of life thanks to weird keyboards, Mellotron, and other studio tricks you wouldn't normally hear from these supposedly rednecky Foghat dudes. In between, they veer between average down-in-the-dumps drinking songs ("Trouble, Trouble", "A Hole to Hide In"), Lonesome Dave's heartfelt ruminations on love ("Sarah Lee"), road tunes ("Highway"), and more covers ("Maybelline"), which would be typical band fare for albums to come. It's just that they would make this stuff sound more relevant on subsequent efforts. For now, a decent, if somewhat tenuous (in spots) debut, boosted by the awesome bookend tunes.