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If
all of Silk Electric were as witty and outrageous as
the hit single "Muscles," it would bode well for the
new phase of Diana Ross' career launched last year with Why
Do Fools Fall in Love? Written and produced by Michael
Jackson, "Muscles" is something of an update of
Olivia Newton-John's "Physical" in which a woman
rejects the elementary requirements in a man for the one she
holds most profound: "Just make him beautiful." A
smutty but sweet role reversal, no? The production is full of
teasing-threatening touches -- prickly acoustic-guitar
picking, startling percussion crashes, breathy gasping -- that
suggest a cartoon-S&M Fay-Wray-and-King-Kong fantasy, and
as an aural fantasy, "Muscles" is a modern pop
masterpiece. Though one could argue that there's something
disturbing and repellent about its view of the current health
craze (it seems to say "Work that body so you can work me
over"), on the same pop-psych level it's undeniable that
"Muscles" is a more interesting reflection of
today's culture than any bland baby-baby love song.
Unfortunately, the rest of the album is as glossy and
superficial as Interview, the magazine published by
Andy Warhol, who designed the album's cover. Two acceptable
cuts are the doo-wop-style "So Close," with snazzy
vocals arranged by Luther Vandross, and the jaunty
"Anywhere You Run To," garnished with Randy
Brecker's genuinely exciting horn charts. But, as a producer,
Ross has done herself a disservice by choosing icky songs that
invite namby-pamby cooing ("Love Lies," "In
Your Arms") and rock tunes that obliterate the best
qualities of her singing ("Fool for Your Love").
There's nothing here as soul wrenching as "Mirror
Mirror" or her solo version of "Endless Love."
And the absolute nadir arrives with the album's final cut, a
narcissistic anthem in which Ross discovers, to an MOR-cum-reggae
beat, "I am me! I am myself!" Diana, darling, we
love you, but save it for your shrink.
Rolling Stone, 1982
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