A Touch of Sparkle

Not exactly renowned for their prolific output, it’s hardly surprising that Songs From The Sparkle Lounge is Def Leppard’s first album of original material in six years. It’s also safe to say to say that little of this time was spent on choosing the title or designing the Sgt. Pepper-esque album sleeve.

Given that Leppard appear to knock together their poppier brand of hard rock with such ease, one wonders what exactly they do in their time off (in the case of Rick Savage and Joe Elliott, probably doing their hair). Fair enough if you’re learning to play the drums with one arm, as Rick Allen did in the lead up to Hysteria, or watching your guitarist slowly drink himself to death, as with Adrenalize, but otherwise Leppard fans would be forgiven for feeling a little short changed over the years. Thankfully, Sparkle Lounge is at least a respectfully solid entry into their canon.

Being the masters of the “don’t-bore-us, get-to-the-chorus” art of songwriting, one must tip a hat to the band’s talent for delivering anthemic hooks aplenty. Not many bands could kick off an album with a fast rocker simply entitled Go, or write a power ballad actually called Love, and not come off as a lame parody. But this isn’t satire. As the saying goes, you cannot do satire this effectively on purpose.

As a whole, the album is a pocket-sized rocking good time. These songs sure don’t hang around, and Collen and Campbell must have timed their solos with a stopwatch. Incidentally, what happened to the Vivian Campbell who shredded at Satriani speeds on Dio’s Holy Diver twenty-five years ago? Does Campbell ask himself that same question when he’s adding “oohs” and “aaahs” on an insipid love song? If that were me, my fingers would be itching to mangle the fretboard as I buzzsaw through the solo of Rainbow In The Dark at breakneck speed. Each to his own, I guess.

Fortunately Love is the only real out-and-out ballad, something that was never really the band’s strong point.