By 1982, Bad Company was in a tailspin. Not even the chart success of “Rock And Roll Fantasy” from their previous album Desolation Angels was helping their internal issues. Add into the mix the absence of manager Peter Grant, whose world collapsed with the 1980 death of John Bonham and the subsequent breakup of label mates Led Zeppelin, and you had a recipe for disaster.
Rough Diamonds, their 1982 release, was that breaking point, the band splintering shortly after its release until the “reunion” with Brian Howe as singer a few years later. I remember walking the aisles of Sound Warehouse in the mid-’80s, and you literally tripped over all the copies of this record in the cut-out bins. Nowadays, if you find it on CD, you’re going to pay a king’s ransom.
Is the disc that cringe-worthy? Honestly, no… but it’s still light years away from their glory days, and doesn’t do anything to correct the mistakes made on their previous release.
The lead-off track, “Electricland,” is more than likely the only one most people know, having been included on the best-of 10 From 6 and being the lead-off single. Right off the bat, you can feel something is not right in the world of Bad Company. It simply doesn’t have the energy of their previous hits—though it’s not an abysmal effort. It’s just… lacking. Paul Rodgers’ vocals don’t have the same crispness or bite, and Mick Ralphs’ guitar work seems to be phoned in.
Had they released “Cross Country Boy” as the first single, maybe they’d have tasted a bit more success with this disc. It’s a much livelier track (even if Rodgers still doesn’t quite seem to be into the material he’s singing), and while it’s still not quite to the level of “Rock And Roll Fantasy” or “Run With The Pack,” it honestly holds its own fairly well.
Now, you want to talk cringe-worthy? Four words: “Ballad Of The Band.” Almost a self-congratulatory effort summing up nearly a decade of their history, this is one that could have easily been left off an already short album (clocking in at 38 minutes), and it wouldn’t have hurt things one iota.
The biggest sin that Rough Diamonds commits is that the bulk of the material feels like they were cast-offs from previous albums that were merely cobbled together for one closet-cleaning release. Tracks like “Nuthin’ On The TV,” “Old Mexico” and “Kickdown” are hardly strong enough efforts to keep people interested in Bad Company, much less draw in new fans.
Yes, the music scene had significantly changed since their debut effort. And, yes, one can argue that bands should at least consider changing with the times. (Not that they have to, mind you; AC/DC is living proof that a singular formula can work for damn near eternity.) It’s not that Bad Company was stuck in a musical rut, or that they had hit the wall in terms of creativity and interpersonal relationships. What they were lacking at that time was some form of guiding hand to not only address any strife they were going through, but to also give them the necessary pimp-slap to prevent them from releasing sub-par material.
Rough Diamonds definitely ended the first iteration of Bad Company on a low note, even with the rare bright spot here and there scattered among its 10 tracks. There’s a reason this one is (as of this writing) out of print, and should be obtained only by the diehard fans who absolutely must have complete discographies.
