Geldof. I took one look at this newest offering by former Boomtown Rat turned world hunger activist, knight and Nobel Peace Prize nominee turned solo artist turned tabloid fodder by association as of late, and half unconsciously decided I probably wouldn't even want a freebie on the musical haunted hayride which is the head of Bob Geldof these days. I was mistaken. Bob doesn't just wanna grovel and moan, but perform for us all still as well. Brilliantly.

Sex, Age & Death, the package I'd thought could surely contain only dark bitter messages, manages to shine creatively enough to benefit listeners beyond sympathy for this obviously misplaced soul.

One quick peer into a hollow eye socket of the artist reveals a man who within the past eight years lost Paula Yates, his wife/lover of thirty-odd years, first to another pop star, Michael Hutchence, then to agony through a bitter divorce and custody battle for their three daughters, punctuated by Hutchence's suicidal hanging in 97, then finally to her death by heroin overdose in 2000. Geldof is currently supporting all their children including Tiger Lily, the daughter Yates had with Hutchence.

Within and without all this, let me remain as objective as possible. The album contains 12 interesting enough cuts, curiously two extra for us Yanks than the other-worldly version. Though, as understandably it is vastly deep and mysterious, such is it also just as enjoyably intriguing musically and creatively. "One For Me" kicks off with the appropriate lyric, "You're a lotta laughs, ain't you baby?...," swipes the bass line from "Come Together" and tips a lyrical and vocally mocking chapeau to another legendary musical Bob, leaving a satisfying first package with a nice beat.

Photo By Tony Swift

"Mudslide," a powerful rocker, has me looking over my shoulder for ten million screaming Bowie & Elton fans set to trample me, as does "Inside Your Head," probably the angriest and greatest tune on the album, which calls from the raw early solo years of the great pissed-off Lennon. "Scream in Vain" sounds a lot like early Boomtown Rats, circa "Up All Night," and is oddly appealing in a house music sort of visitation.

A lot of keyboard-laced, sinister sound effects swirl effortlessly through the album, as do expletives and romance, all in all giving the conclusive appearance of a well rounded, perfectly-shaded, worm-holed apple. That is to say, it fits easily into the category of great rock art.

So for those to whom the thought of this man's emotional turmoil sends apprehensive quivers, don't be so quick to shy away from the bar - the pain's seemingly a lot easier to dance to than to live through.

review by Kyf Brewer