When your fave sold out in the 80's, it hurt. But Nick Gilder defined the keyboard disco metal groove that destroyed numerous conventional rock acts who tried to merely weld keys to their indelible sound. Lyrically, Gilder painted neon-tapestries of sultry street life and wavy dream confections. He was a glam Mother Goose, like Marc Bolan, serving up sex in fluffy fairy tales and naughty nursery rhymes. Immediately on Nick Gilder, something is not right with Gilder's distinct voice. Whether because of an incident akin to the vocal dilemmas of Meat Loaf and Steve Perry, or a conscious effort to mimic fellow Canadian Bryan Adams, Gilder's phenomenal tenor is gone. And what happened to those incredible songs, laced with sumptuous imagery and brilliant rhymes? Apparently songwriting partner James McCulloch is sorely missed. This record is heart-breaking and confusing, like finding out about Santa Claus.
-STONE, Cheap Trash NYC