dire straits album cover money for nothing

We know Mark Knopfler's working-class antihero is a thicky because he talks like Randy Newman and uses the same word for homosexual that old bluesboys use, a word Knopfler has somehow gotten on the radio with no static from the PMRC. But it's too late for the old bluesboy to suck us into his ruminations of the perfidy of woman and the futility of political struggle, and 'Money for Nothing' is also a benchmark of pop hypocrisy. 'Money for Nothing' is a catchy sumbitch, no getting around it, and the first side moves with simple generosity, not a virtue one associates with this studio guitarist's ego trip. on the very same 'Industrial Disease' leaves no doubt that even his sense of humor is pompous. And Knopfler's sarcastic impression of a Harley Street M.D. But the portentous arrangements on the other three cuts (right, that makes five, mean length 8:24) suggest nothing so much as ELP with blues roots. I admit that Mark Knopfler is a classy enough guitarist and producer to entice me into his nostalgic obsessions: at its best 'Telegraph Road' sounds like supernal Mark-Almond, and the cheesy organ on 'Industrial Disease' betrays a sense of humor. Steely Straits, anyone? Or would that be Dire Dan? C+ Better he should work on somebody else's stories-his guitar has emerged from Eric Clapton's shadow into a jazzy rock that muscles right past Larry Carlton and ilk. Me, I note that this third album closes with his second gay-baiting song, and that I wasn't surprised. If any up-and-coming rock-and-roller aspires to auteur status it's Mark Knopfler, and among those with a taste for his rather corny plots (Romeo and Juliet, fancy that) this establishes his claim. Just another case of 'substance' as novelty, I guess-doesn't sound bad, but they'd better up those beats-per-minute. Bīoy, people are getting bored with these guys fast-if they don't watch out they're gonna last about as long as Looking Glass or the Lemon Pipers. In 'In the Gallery,' an honest sculptor has his bareback rider, coal miner, and skating ballerina rejected by the 'trendy boys,' 'phonies,' and 'fakes' who (literally) conspire together and 'decide who gets the breaks.' Those who find this rather simplistic should now ask themselves whether Knopfler's beloved Sultans of Swing-not to mention Dire Straits-have more in common with that sculptor than he suspects.

But there's a streak of philistine ideology here that speaks for too many white r&b players these days-most of them can't be bothered articulating it, that's all. The decisive touch is how Mark Knopfler counterpoints his own vocals on guitar-only a musician with a real structural knack could sound like two people that way. Despite initial misgivings, I've found this thoughtful and sexy.

Dire straits album cover money for nothing