Arc of a Diver

The frothiest of soft rock.

Not bad but I wish I was listening to Peter Gabriel instead. Based on Genesis's requirements to be the lead singer he would have been a shoe in

Pretty enjoyable, I like how it mixed the upcoming pop sounds with rock music. Very cool, especially for 1980.

In my opinion the author got this one wrong. Back in the High Life is the superior Winwood album. By alot. So if you’re only going to give him one, this is not it. This one is okay- 3 stars. High Life a high four. Sorry Stevie!

Feels extremely "safe".

This is very much Steely Dan-lite in all its long ambiance. All buildup, no climax like EDM trance without a proper drop/mood change. I was taking a bit of a nap and I didn't really hear much of a transition between any of the songs (2.5-3).

Very surprised to see low reviews for this album. I wasn't too excited going in, but it surprised me. Great singing and a really good showcase of talent across the board. This album is very easy to listen to.

I thought this album had a ton of heart. It was solid musically, no particular bangers stood out to me, though. Very yacht rock.

SW is extremely talented

Que dire de plus qui n’ait déjà été résumé par cette note couperet ? Un sur cinq et encore, c’est cher payé... C’est cher payé pour ce qui s’apparente à un véritable naufrage auditif, un encéphalogramme plat musical qui s'écoute avec la même excitation nerveuse que celle procurée par le bruit monotone des essuie-glaces sous une averse de novembre.

Je me suis imposé cette écoute, et je le regrette déjà amèrement tant le vide artistique y est vertigineux. Car on parle ici d'un disque qui aspire toute énergie vitale pour la remplacer par un ennui tiède.

Pourtant, sur le papier, l’artisan derrière la console n’est pas le premier manchot venu, on connaît le CV. Mais en cette année 1980, l'inspiration semble être restée définitivement au vestiaire, promptement remplacée par un cahier des charges d'une pauvreté affligeante et d'un opportunisme commercial flagrant.

Ici, l’artiste fait tout tout seul : claviers, guitares, voix, batterie, basse et c'est précisément là que le piège se referme. Car si l'autarcie a parfois du bon, ici elle accouche d'un monstre de complaisance. Tout est à jeter sans sommation : les arrangements au synthétiseur d’un goût plus que douteux, la production lissée jusqu’à l'écœurement, et cette voix qui traîne une léthargie contagieuse au fil de morceaux désespérément prévisibles et plats.

On se demande franchement ce qui a bien pu passer par la tête des sélectionneurs pour aller dénicher ce truc et le coller dans une liste d'œuvres censées marquer l'histoire de l'humanité. C’est à se taper la tête contre les murs. Chaque piste commence et se termine dans la même indifférence, sans que l'auditeur ne puisse jamais sortir de sa torpeur, si ce n'est pour vérifier combien de minutes de calvaire il reste avant la délivrance finale.

La paresse d'écriture est ici élevée au rang d'art majeur, les mélodies tournent en boucle sur trois accords fatigués que même un débutant bouderait par fierté. C'est l'illustration parfaite du déclin d'une certaine idée de la musique des années 70, digérée et recrachée par l'industrie naissante des années 80 dans ce qu'elle a de plus clinquant, superficiel et inutile.

Rien à sauver, donc. Pas même le fameux single qui a fait le succès de l'album à sa sortie et qui sonne aujourd'hui comme une immense plaisanterie datée, un hymne à la mollesse qui donne envie de briser sa platine en deux. C'est de la bouillie pour les chats, du sucre glace sur de la merde, un produit marketing déguisé en œuvre d'art intime.

Je ressors de cette expérience vidé, irrité, avec la désagréable impression d'avoir perdu quarante minutes de ma vie que personne ne pourra jamais me rendre. Si le projet des 1001 Albums réserve parfois de magnifiques surprises et des redécouvertes indispensables, il impose aussi de traverser des déserts de platitude absolue dont cet opus est, sans conteste, le monument le plus terrifiant.

C'est chiant comme la pluie, disais-je ? Je présente mes plus plates excuses à la pluie. La pluie, elle au moins, possède une rythmique changeante, une odeur de terre mouillée, une mélancolie brute et une poésie naturelle qui balaient ce disque en moins de deux secondes. Ici, il n'y a que le bruit du pognon facile et de l'autosatisfaction d'un musicien qui s'écoute jouer tout seul dans son studio hors de prix, persuadé de pondre un chef-d'œuvre alors qu'il ne fabrique que du vide acoustique.

Pour conclure ce calvaire, disons simplement que cet album mérite amplement sa note minimale. Il devrait être étudié dans les écoles de musique comme le contre-exemple parfait de tout ce qu'il ne faut pas faire quand on possède un studio et du temps libre. Un disque sans âme, sans tripes, sans urgence, sans intérêt.

Une tache grise dans une discographie, un rendez-vous manqué avec l'histoire, et surtout, un immense moment de solitude pour quiconque a le malheur de poser le diamant sur sa face A. À fuir d'urgence, sous peine de dépression nerveuse immédiate causée par un excès de fadeur.

The Good: Mr Winwood!
The Bad: This album…
The Ugly: Mr Winwood…

If you read his bio… OMFG… He’s like the GOAT, who nobody knows about… at least, for those of us who know him only for the 2 cheesy ‘80s songs he did.

For the stellar back ground that he has, all the experiences that he gathered… could he not have made a better fucking album?
This is like Einstein deciding to connect the fucking dots instead of E=MC2 the shit out of physics…

Not a totally waste of my time… but wish it were more enjoyable.

3*

2/5. Only two things keeping me from lowering this to a 1 is that I quite liked a lot of the bass lines on the album and the synths aren’t as awfully produced as they are on a lot of other 80’s pop albums. Beyond that though I got nothing out of this one. I really just don’t like this style of vocals, they’re just so cheesy and not in the fun way. And outside of the basslines the instrumental arrangements on here are in one ear and out the other, nothing offensively bad, but also nothing of particular interest.

There were two go to session piano players in London: Nicky Hopkins and Steve Winwood.

Winwood played with everyone from Howling Wolf to Hendrix to Paul Weller.
He was in two hit making groups; Spencer Davis and Traffic, as well as two "Super Groups": Blind Faith and Ginger Baker's Air Force. (Three Super Groups if you count the band Townsend put together to support Clapton in his come back Rainbow Concert.)

So what happened here?

As a solo artist he proves to be a sort of less interesting Phil Collins, just as Collins is a less interesting Peter Gabriel.

The first song - While You See a Chance - is perfectly fine, but after that it just becomes a dull soup of synths, keyboards and assorted instruments.

Winwood plays and sings every note and you have to give credit for the virtuosity. But it's a pretty dull affair.

Reminds me of Peter Gabriel, just not as good. The only songs I know from Steve are Valerie and Higher Love, both really catchy numbers. Neither are on this album. 2/5.

Qué gusto da cuando un álbum te da una sorpresa para bien. Me gustó demasiado.

Cliché is especially bad when it's incoherent, as the following snatch from the first track brings to light: 'Stand up in a clear blue morning / Until you see what can be / Alone in a cold day dawning / Are you still free? Can you be?' It's hard to tell what that means, tho you know it's not much & not all that interesting. I quite dig the Steve Winwood of Blind Faith but confess to knowing little about his work w/ Traffic or the Spencer Davis Group. On this record, he gets more and more annoying, especially that high tenor voice, which had been endearingly soulful w/ Clapton, Baker, & Grech. Often, he just sounds like a far less poignant Van Morrison. Also, you know that cat Bobby Caldwell J Dilla sampled for 'The Light'? That guy's better as well.

I’m at a 4.5 that I’ll bump down to a 4.

I like Steve Winwood a lot. I like ‘80s production, even when it’s this cheesy & synth heavy. I also like Phil Collins, whose lack of a solo album here baffles me a little bit; not even “Face Value”, just for “In The Air Tonight”? I bring up Phil because… well, Steve Winwood sounds a lot like Phil Collins here, as many people have pointed out, especially so on the first two tracks. Put all of that together, along with Steve’s solid (if cheesy) songwriting & his innate musical ability (he played EVERY SINGLE instrument here), and you end up with a pretty damn good effort across the board. I enjoyed all the tracks here; there’s a good funk behind tracks like “Second-Hand Woman” & “Night Train”, some great guitar work both electrically & acoustically (“Slowdown Sundown” on the latter especially), and when this album wants to break out real drums to go with the synths, it just makes me wonder why so many artists in this decade chose to pair drum machines with synths. Granted, Steve is just as guilty of drum machine use here, but it still sounds nice. Overall, while it’s certainly cheesy at times & EXTREMELY dated to 1980, it’s the sort of cheesy style that’s directly attuned to my musical tastes, for better or worse.

So, why the 4.5 bumped down to a 4? Well, even I have my limits / critiques. This album settles into its starting groove a bit too often, leaving these tracks in a state of limbo that you will either tolerate because it’s surrounded by little synth hits & melodies that try to keep it fresh, or you will despise it because the synth hits just feel like bandaids for an endless loop. The truth is somewhere in the middle; I think these do a decent job of maintaining a groove & an energy, but not enough tracks shake things up meaningfully in a way that gives the track good progression. That’s combined with repeating lyrics & an overt reliance on choruses that starts to feel really noticeable towards the end of the album. “Arc of a Diver” is guilty of that chorus reliance, “Second-Hand Woman” desperately needs a bridge in there to shake up the rhythm, “Spanish Dancer” does as well, & “Dust” is just overly guilty of the repeating lyrics, in a way where it’s a weaker album closer. The best track here is a tie between “When You See a Chance” & “Night Train”, as neither really hit on those tropes.

That pile of issues along with the same ‘consistently good, never hits a stretch of great’ thought process that I threw at “Brothers” is why this is getting a bump down to a 4, but as with “Brothers”, I still really enjoyed it & I still do recommend it. Obviously, since I have an affinity for this style & a bit of tolerance, I don’t see all of those issues as huge sinking deals, but for people who already don’t really like this style, I sort of get & understand the 1’s & 2’s. Personally, I think the floor is a 3, but regardless, I think it’s still got a place on the list. It’s certainly on the chopping block, but I’ve heard much, much worse before. It’s a 4.5 that I’ll bump down to a 4.

There’s a certain effortless polish to 𝘈𝘳𝘤 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘋𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳, but that’s also its biggest problem — it’s almost too smooth. The album drifts along on soft grooves and glossy production, feeling distinctly yacht-adjacent without ever becoming particularly engaging. While Winwood’s musicianship is undeniable, the songs themselves feel oddly weightless, lacking the spark or emotional pull you might expect for an artist of his stature. It’s pleasant in the background, but rarely compelling in the foreground.

Synthy, yacht album. Not noteworthy. This list needs to stop celebrating mediocre white people albums. 2*

I don't know what I expected this to be, but I was wrong in the worst way. I don't really know what this is. Yacht Rock? Disco? 80s bubblegum pop? I had heard one of the songs and it's fine. The rest of the album is not.