Review Summary: An earnest, but ultimately somewhat pointless and unnecessary Sacrifice.
Nostalgia is a powerful tool; the yearning for times gone by, and the rose-tinted glasses invariably used to look back thereon, render even the most insignificant elements from any given time period as integral and lovingly remembered parts of a reality kept alive only in the collective memories of its corresponding generation. The music world is no different in this regard; much to the contrary, the mere existence of concepts such as 'the oldies circuit' or the 'classic rock' movement - along with the seemingly perennial careers of most of the acts involved with either - are proof positive that, if anything, this particular quadrant of the arts world is even more vulnerable to this type of phenomenon than those adjoining it, with most any act involved in a particular scene or movement usually earning themselves another lap around the rock'n'roll ride. But while nostalgia for some of these acts is justified - usually those that actively contributed to shape their scene or movement, or simply endeavoured to achieve unusual commercial success - for many (if not most) such acts, this paradigm represents nothing more or less than a chance to hoodwink audiences into thinking they were more relevant than they truly were during their original run, thereby extending and milking their career through a couple more tours, and the occasional standalone comeback album.
Case in point: Black Sheep, a group of D-tier late-80s hard'n'heavy also-rans whose sole claim to fame back in the day was the all-star lineup they somehow managed to assemble at one point, which saw African-American frontman Wille Basse (himself a differentiating factor for the band) backed up by such guitar luminaries as Kurt James (of post-Malmsteen Steeler fame), Mr. Big and Racer X guitar-innovator extraordinaire Paul Gilbert or the one and only Slash, as well as drummer Randy Castillo, who would go on to back up the likes of Motley Crue, Ozzy Osbourne and Lita Ford. By the time the band put out their sole full-length release - 1985's
Trouble In The Streets - only Gilbert remained, and his trademark intrincate, lightning-quick and absurdly tecchy fretwork was, sadly, not enough to elevate what was ultimately a rather pedestrian and forgettable entry into the line-straddling, radio-courting hard'n'heavy scene. Basse will, therefore, undoubtedly have been thankful for the nostalgia-baiting late-90s rock-revival scene, which presented him with an opportunity to unabashedly follow on the footsteps of myriad other bands and attempt to capitalize on the hankering for something,
anything even vaguely reminiscent of the 80s.
Hence
Sacrifice, an honest-to-goodness new release (if only a four-track, nineteen-minute EP) from Black Sheep - or rather, its frontman and mastermind, backed up by the customary entirely new lineup of complete unknowns - in the year 1999. Sadly, if predictably, Basse's declared bid at giving his career a second wind fell just as flat as its predecessor, ultimately registering as barely more than a blip (if that) in what was an already fairly redundant and derided movement at the time, and once again consigning Black Sheep to the mire of oblivion from whence they had emerged.
The reason for such a failure is readily apparent upon even a noncommittal appraisal of the group's new release; simply put, Black Sheep appear to have very little to add to the late-90s classic-rock discourse, as made abundantly clear by the fact that two of the record's four tracks (rip-snorting heavy-metal anthem
Love Is Not Enough and Maiden-meets-KISS stomper
Love Warrior) are straight re-recordings of songs from their debut, with new lead axeman Brian Conroy doing his best Paul Gilbert impression. And though either song retains its best traits - namely Gilbert/Conroy's blistering leads and Basse's committed mid-tier-heavy-metal-screamer caterwauling - they are, ultimately, not enough to atone for the fact that a solid half of this supposed comeback record is made up of decade-and-a-half-old songs, without so much as a compositional flourish to justify their rehashing, begging the question of whether
Sacrifice might not have been better off as a single (which, in the current streaming-centric panorama, it would almost certainly have been.)
What is perhaps worse, the two actually new songs included on the EP do very little to assert themselves over their elders - much to the contrary,
Someone Like You stands out only for its unique backing vocals (a sort of caricaturally pitch-shifted version of AC/DC's trademark raspy barks), while
Whose Side Are You On somehow manages to mash a riff and beat pilfered from classic-period Judas Priest, a Sabbath-era Dio vocal line and a chorus stolen from like-minded French contemporaries Fisc into an almost chronically bland and unmemorable concoction. Whether taken individually or as a duo, these tracks are, sadly, unable not only to elevate the overall level of the EP, but also to justify Black Sheep's resurgence into an already knowingly stale and borderline cynical movement, making their
Sacrifice an earnest, but ultimately somewhat pointless and unnecessary one.
Recommended Tracks
Love Is Not Enough
Love Warrior
