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'….

The second Barnstorm/Walsh record strikes a more celebratory tone overall, but compared to the debut record it's the less challenging of the two. It also served as the commercial breakthrough as well, with the leadoff "Rocky Mountain Way" getting the lion's share of the notoriety and attention. For years to come, it would also pigeonhole the album into a classic rock, guitar-hero, gear-and-pot-head dated limbo, but that's OK, because it is also extremely comfortable in its' own skin. But not all of the music is in the same vein as "Rocky Mountain Way" - not by a long shot. Like the previous album, Barnstorm sees fit to range 'round confidently over of the course of the remaining eight tracks. However, the experience does not go down as smoothly as the first album did, either. "Midnight Moodies" is an instrumental that is just as inscrutable as "Giant Bohemoth". "Wolf" is layers and layers of gorgeous, haunting sound. But then, there is "Happy Ways", which is a little too lightweight. While much of the material sounds great and creative, tracks like "Meadows", "Dreams", and "Days (Go By)" come off as intentionally marked to build from innocuously quiet to epic. They seem a bit too contrived to be believed. Despite this, The Smoker You Get, The Player You Get is quite an entertaining listen, and necessary companion piece to hear after the debut Barnstorm record.

The year after Joe Walsh left the James Gang he moved to Colorado, formed a new band with some old friends (which was called Barnstorm), and proceed to release a slew of albums which pursed the artistic directions that the James Gang hinted at, but could never fully explore. They are usually pigeon-holed into the "dust-bin of dirty, repetitive classic rock" - mainly because "Rocky Mountain Way", which led off the second album in this run, and became a hit - is the track which received the most notoriety from this period, but truth be told, Walsh and Barnstorm do not get enough credit for the dedication and craftsmanship they put into these records. They are also usually thought of as pure Walsh solo efforts, but here again, the real story is more complicated. Barnstorm was in fact a solid band with just about equal contributions from Walsh, Joe Vitale (main gig: drummer), and Kenny Passarelli (main gig: bass guitar). Walsh was the front-man, lead vocalist, and guitar-hero, but all three were everywhere playing multiple instruments and making different contributions, along with a small host of session musicians. Listening to this and the subsequent Barnstorm releases, and it is immediately obvious, that Passarelli and Vitale are a serious upgrade over Jim Fox and Dale Peters, if only for the fact that now Walsh has people around who can help him elevate the sound and actually fulfill his and their ambitions. Barnstorm isn't really a concept album, but it feels like one, and the general message is - we're going West, expanding our horizons, playing with all of this space, and making the move the overarching story. And why not - isn't that a classic story in American folklore, anyway? The opener "Here We Go" is a slow-building, enveloping, early-morning awakening piece that is drenched in evocative synthesizer tones. It kicks off a first side of the album which is far more on the contemplative side of the fence. The twin centerpieces are a rather cinematic, documentary-type of instrumental called "Giant Bohemoth", followed by "Mother Says", another slow-rolling and developing avalanche of snow which gloriously erupts towards the end of its' run-time, cumulating a near-perfect side of music. The second side is a slight letdown from the strange, yet oddly enchanting mood which the first side established, although still holds interest. Second from last is the only true rocker on this collection, "Turn to Stone", but that is pushing things, and anyway, the real attraction here is how the band makes that riff sound lonelier and lonelier each time they play it, until it feels like it echoes through some long lost canyon. Beyond the fact that there are some really good songs here, where Barnstorm wins you over is in the atmosphere department, which borders on the indescribable at many intervals here. Which makes sense, because there isn't really a lot of songs here to speak of, either, and the emphasis is on atmosphere. The next album would take a bit of a different tact.