| Popmatters |
The rumors of Living Colour’s demise have been greatly exaggerated. They are back, but perhaps more to the point, they were never really gone. The Chair in the Doorway, their fifth official album in 21 years, should not lead anyone to conclude that this band is rock music’s Rip Van Winkle. None of them have been sleeping: they seem to disappear for extended siestas, only to return enervated and voracious. Of course, as more committed fans are well aware, these interminable hiatuses (this release represents only the second album of original material since 1993’s Stain) are a mixed blessing. If the guys had gotten their acts together, so to speak, would we have been treated to more classic efforts in this past decade or so? Certainly. But then, would we have gotten the bounty of solo projects—all interesting, some essential—that the individual musicians have dropped? Probably not. On balance, the collected works represent the best of both worlds.The good news is that The Chair in the Doorway is exquisite enough to make casual fans lament the ostensibly lost time. Those fans are encouraged to make an effort getting acquainted with the considerable blessings contained in works like Trippy Notes for Bass (Doug Wimbish), Native Lands (Will Calhoun), Hymns (Corey Glover), and the gamut of Vernon Reid releases (especially Mistaken Identity and Other True Self). While 2003’s Collideoscope was a welcome if uneven release (“Song Without Sin”, “A ? of When” and “Operation: Mind Control” are excellent additions to the Living Colour canon; the unfortunate cover of AC/DC’s “Back in Black” not so much), The Chair in the Doorway represents more than a return to form. Something about contemporary cataclysms seem to serve as a call to action for this band: Collideoscope was very much a post-9/11 statement, and many of the songs on The Chair in the Doorway sound like a wrathful response to last year’s Wall Street fiasco. ...full text |
| Rollingstone |
| "It's a bad time/ To be out of your mind," singer Corey Glover cautions in "Out of Mind," a brute-metal warning about staying sharp for battle on Living Colour's most focused record since their 1988 debut, Vivid. To these black-rock fighters, apocalypse is colorblind. The greed and fallout in Vivid's "Open Letter (To a Landlord)" still run deep in the enraged crunch of "DecaDance" and "Hard Times." But "Bless Those (Little Annie's Prayer)" is a hot ball of faith: Guitarist Vernon Reid slices across Doug Wimbish and Will Calhoun's porch-party strut with sacred-steel licks. Reid's playing is a thrill throughout; his solos sound like a mind blown wide but never to pieces....full text |
| Sputnikmusic |
| As effective opener ‘Burned Bridges’ builds up over its three and a half minute duration, it gives off an exciting sense of an upcoming explosion. Climaxing with Vernon Reid’s frantic guitar-playing, one cannot help but feel that Living Colour’s first album in six years could be a return to the form which saw them storm on to the scene two decades ago, collecting Grammys along the way. It is a disappointing shame then that what follows are two short, sludgy and rather boring tracks (‘The Chair’ & ‘DecaDance’), the former of which contains amateurish forced rhymes. The funky ‘Young Man’ that follows is solid, but seems totally out of place with what has come before it. “Hey fellas, how about we start again?” And start again the NYC quartet do, since fifth track ‘Method’ (pardon the pun) methodically builds up in a moody fashion not too unlike the opener. But this time, what comes next is thankfully all class. ‘Behind the Sun’ contains a super tight rhythm section, thrilling guitar-work, passionate vocals and meaningful lyrics. ‘Hard Times’ adds a fantastic solo, while ‘Out of Mind’ throws in screams, snarling vocals & thick riffs that remind why some classified Living Colour as a metal band when they were at their peak. Elsewhere, ‘That’s What You Taught Me’ and light-hearted hidden track ‘Asshole’ prove that hooky mainstream rock does not have to be so musically bland. However, as strong as these cuts are, they pale into insignificance when compared to track 7; ‘Bless Those (Little Annie’s Prayers)’. Guitarist Reid is astounding here, seamlessly transitioning from a bluesy twang to a metallic riff, and then finally to a mind-blowing solo that will have you on your knees either playing air-guitar or proclaiming “we are not worthy”. The most amazing fact however, is how this virtuoso guitar performance does not overshadow the remainder of the band. The vibrant and well-defined bass-lines of Doug Wimbish, the punchy drums of Will Calhoun, and the character-adding vocals of Corey Glover all make this a real musician’s piece and a genuine song of the year contender....full text |
Living Colour lyrics
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The rumors of Living Colour’s demise have been greatly exaggerated. They are back, but perhaps more to the point, they were never really gone. The Chair in the Doorway, their fifth official album in 21 years, should not lead anyone to conclude that this band is rock music’s Rip Van Winkle. None of them have been sleeping: they seem to disappear for extended siestas, only to return enervated and voracious. Of course, as more committed fans are well aware, these interminable hiatuses (this release represents only the second album of original material since 1993’s Stain) are a mixed blessing. If the guys had gotten their acts together, so to speak, would we have been treated to more classic efforts in this past decade or so? Certainly. But then, would we have gotten the bounty of solo projects—all interesting, some essential—that the individual musicians have dropped? Probably not. On balance, the collected works represent the best of both worlds.