Artists must be confident of their image as well as their sound. Electric Light Orchestra holds onto the iconic Out of the Blue imagery, still using the spinning saucer as their advertising focus. But there were times after their peak when Jeff Lynne and company were less than confident in their work. It led to adaptations of old images, the monuments of history which had heralded an unprecedented interest in their work. The ship is faulty, hollow and trying to keep up with the times. Zoom is attempting the same. Dark sci-fi twists on the cover infect the songs and, in turn, the momentum E.L.O. rides. This album is nothing more than Lynne trying to remind people he was the mastermind behind the original lineup, clawing away at the lining of the Electric Light Orchestra Pt. 2 coffers. This is not a cash grab. Zoom is a penny-pinching snooze.
Opening track Alright is, as its title would suggest. A fuzzy bleed of instruments all vying for attention and none rising to the surface. Even Lynne is lost in the mix of this one. Soppy standards like Moment in Paradise are chances for Lynne to kindle those nostalgic emotions while the simplicity of State of Mind has the emptiness of a song which would be better suited to the light-hearted intro credits of a 1980s drama. Zoom is a dated piece of work. Stock work. Songs which give E.L.O., or whatever this piece is, the Lynne funhouse, a reason to tour. None of these tracks are anywhere close to essential or even interesting. Going through the motions as a way of taking the band back on the road is fine, plenty of artists have done it before. But as Lynne has now realised is there is no need to release middling pieces for the sake of heading out on the road. Attitudes have changed. Hindsight is a joy.
Just for Love gets through with credible notes of stiff guitar and a simple sense of longing. But warm to those lighter tones. Not every effort is going to be a masterclass and while Lynne is missing the core elements of successful E.L.O. charm, the likes of In My Own Time burn with a shock passion. Some of his heartiest work, the blues-like display of a man trying to hide the fact his album is a knock at former collaborators. Zoom may be hollow and remembered more as a way of speaking to family members during a global lockdown but return to the roots of this E.L.O. record and find a few scraps. Fret-licking nonsense on It Really Doesn’t Matter at All sounds expectedly out of place, but Lynne is just toying with his listeners at this point, complex bridges to try and distance the band from what it became ELO Part II.
Zoom is just another stepping stone in the muddled history of a band who achieved all they wanted. An epilogue to the sequel of an unfinished chapter. All of it feels like clutter after Time. The backslapping of Lynne and friends continues with George Harrison and Ringo Starr both featuring in small pockets of Zoom. This is as much an E.L.O. album as Mirror to the Sky is a Yes album. In name only, and most of the members are dead, absent or vilified by the working members of what remains. Zoom is an oddball piece. A flavourless creation which struggles to find merit in more than a handful of tracks. Lynne is guided by a hatred for the other aspects of E.L.O. at the time and looks to reclaim the castle. But the windows have been put in, the carpet is fusty and the audiences the band used to pull have abandoned them. Or at least that is what peaking at thirty-four in the UK charts of 2001 would suggest.
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Spot on review. This was the most disappointing ELO album ever. Not one song on Zoom is memorable. No lush harmonies or melodies like those on other ELO albums, including even Balance Of Power. Its hard to believe Jeff Lynne is the man behind Zoom. Everything else he touched was mostly sublime. What went wrong here – Zoom should never have seen the light of day. I’m saying that as a life long ELO fan.