Well, they do until you listen to the tenth, which Horn did produce, a ditty called 'Slave to the Rhythm'. Somehow this track makes the rest sound like they were recorded using tin cans strung together with gardening string. Just how could Slave to the Rhythm be so much better? Search me. If I knew, maybe I too could have coaxed an album as good as 'Welcome to the Pleasure Dome' from a bunch of talent-free Liverpudlians - after all, that's what Trevor Horn did. 'Slave' is forty miles wide, it's got a bass deeper than the Grand Canyon, and intricate little percussive fills and chinking guitars ripple around the soundstage like golden winged angels. It's a groovy song, too, which can't be said for much of the rest of this material. Fifteen years on much of Island Life sounds hopelessly dated - which is only what you'd expect: Grace Jones was an artist of the time, and on the whole Island Life doesn't transcend that. 'Slave...', on the other hand - perhaps thanks to Mr Horn - does.
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