A self-titled album from an offshoot of a band with a self-titled trio of albums. Not confusing at all, though it does make Peter Gabriel look sane. A furious Bev Bevan and the rest of the snubbed first wave of Electric Light Orchestra had the wise idea to use the name and crash through the studio. Electric Light Orchestra Part Two is the result of this, a poor attempt at fooling audiences into thinking Jeff Lynne had picked up those downed tools just five years after the mismatched Balance of Power. This album, if anything, is a chance for those in the shadow of frontman Lynne to prove they were a crucial part of his success. Should they be successful, they cement their name in the history books as the men who moulded songs which brought on thunderous applause. It did not go well.
Opener Hello sounds like a novelty song written straight for children’s television. A long time ago indeed and with Peter Haycock, Neil Lockwood, and Eric Troyer sharing vocal duties, the regeneration of E.L.O. never finds a stable voice. Hello is a miserable piece. A minute-long welcome to the album, a desire to connect with the audience not through some meaning in their music but by trying to shake a smile onto their face, of providing them with the feelings they should now be experiencing. It is generic and artificial stuff which rivals only the Bullseye theme in its lack of emotional desire. Horrendous mixing makes it hard to hear where Electric Light Orchestra Part Two is trying to stand out. Honest Men is anything but, and it becomes clear rather immediately the band is set to replicate and devolve the Lynne sound they were once part of more than anything.
Pale imitations are always going to have trouble maintaining a meaning beyond hitting out at former bandmates. Electric Light Orchestra Part Two does not even try. It is remarkably open about how one-note it is, in trying to prove the band could go on without integral parts. It cannot. Like a car without its engine, the bonnet closed on first look may provide some whistling, but lift that hood and you’ll see a man sat cross-legged and making engine noises. Such is the case for this piece, where lazy guitar work is the only addition made to high-strung replications of E.L.O.’s finest. There is no sense of tone or scope for what works here. From heavy, dated rock like Every Night to fleecing the Lynne sound of the 1970s, Bevan and the gang fail to set themselves apart. Turn out the light and leave it off.
Clunky backing vocals sap what little joys can be gathered from Once Upon a Time. Its fairy tale structure is already as limited as the repetitive lyrics and lacklustre instrumentals but it feels like the most original song of the bunch. Barrel-scraping miseries within and not much history to it either. Just chancers hopping on a name brand they were once associated with. Ironically in remaking the Electric Light Orchestra project, Bevan and the group tie themselves closer to this monstrosity than they do with the remarkable musicianship they had mastered just a decade before it. Clutch to relevancy and this is the result. Drivel of the dullest variety. A smash and grab piece which will con fans into thinking this is the real deal. Just listen in, the slip away heard on Thousand Eyes is all you need to know the band was dead, and would remain that way until Zoom a decade later.
