.38 Special - Wild-Eyed Southern Boys (1981) A&M 1/2 *Trust me dear readers when I tell you that I have seen many a wild-eyed southern boy in my day. I was once chased up a towering Alabama sweet gum tree in the dead of summer by a scantily clad day laborer, faintly resembling Rock Hudson. He was wild eyed. .38 Special are about as wild-eyed as Elizabeth Taylor at an Irish wake. Lead singer Donnie Van Zant (not to be confused with older brother Ronnie who is the lead singer for that other group of latent homosexuals Lynyrd Skynyrd) sings in a voice akin to the noise made by the removal of your great aunt's dentures. Their particular brand of "arena rock" is only made more naseuating by the fact that they actually flaunt their Southern roots while on stage. So which are you more proud of boys, three centuries of slave labor or your cousin's Trans-Am painted to look like the Dukes of Hazzard car? My favorite song on this hopeless affair has to be "Back Alley Sally." But this is only because I knew a "Back Alley Sally" in my youth. Well, that was Back Alley Gary, but he also answered to Sally. So do yourself a favor and spend the money you have saved for this record on a Bible. You'll need it to ward off the demons .38 special have released on mankind.Steve Miller - Abracadabra, Capitol Records (1982) 1/2 *More like Abracagagra, this album has more fluff than the pillows at the Memphis Peabody. With song titles like "Cool Magic" and "Something Special," one can't help but wonder if Lil' Stevie Miller will be forever stuck in lyrical footie pajamas. "Abra-Abracadabra/I wanna reach out and grab ya?" Where's Houdini when you need him? If only he could return from the Netherworld to cast this two-bit hack back to Chuck Berry's rhythm section where he belongs. Some people call him the Space Cowboy, some call him the Gangster of Love, but after this paranormal tripe most folks will probably resort to calling him Chubby. Welcome back to third grade Stevie.Willie Nelson - Over the Rainbow (1981) Columbia *Here is yet another set of sub-standard pop hits from the 1940s sung by a man wearing a basketball net as jewelry. Just when you thought he had exhausted the catalogue of mediocre cover tunes, here comes another album. His frequent lack of originality of late makes one wonder if he spilled all of his creative juices during the last Nelson family reunion. In the South we have a word for an album like this, crap. And would it kill Mr. Nelson to find another drummer? Because this one's about as on time as my old mammy's paychecks. I did enjoy his version of Over the Rainbow. If I hadn't gone over the rainbow years ago, this rendition could have carried me there smiling.