A rock opera with real operatics. A concept album with whatever concept you care to lay on it. A romantic comedy.
Jobriath's second long player spotlighted many of the same turns that made his debut so special -- guitarist
Peter Frampton, producer
Eddie Kramer, vocalist Peggy Nestor -- and reappraised many of the same lyrical icons and theatrical tricks as well. But if
Jobriath caught our hero at least flirting with a rock & roll foundation,
Creatures of the Street saw him writing soundtracks for every great movie that needed music to match, then mashing them together for the film that never was. We meet fallen stars and forgotten heroines, icicle icons and tragic auteurs and, if there's a hint of autobiography creeping into the frame, remember that Creatures was created on the back of a media denouement of almost unprecedented savagery. Last time out,
Jobriath thought he had a chance and made an album that might sell. This time, he pulled down the shades and made the record he wanted. With just two exceptions, no song breaks the three-minute barrier, and most eschew the basics of pop hooks and choruses -- it's a difficult, and occasionally choppy, approach that renders the entire album an exercise in incidental music and ensures that the disorientation never lets up. Snatches of it are immortal -- the chorale "Dietrich/Fondyke" raises the curtain, the mandolin-folky "Scumbag" slobbers in the wings, the New York Dolls-y "Ooh La La" necks its neighbor in the back row. "Good Times" even looks back at
Jobriath and pretends that the good times are still around the corner. But they're not, and the overall mood of Creatures is crushed and obstinate, saddening and saddened, the end of a dream that was too good to be true, too real to be a nightmare. Indeed, anybody approaching
Jobriath for the first time would do well to place this album on a back burner somewhere, and get to grips with his debut first. Even dilettantism must sometimes be digestible. ~ Dave Thompson