Ferry then devoted himself to the revived Roxy Music, not making another solo record until the mid-'80s, by which time the group had begun another long rest. When Roxy Music again ceased to exist, Ferry's solo career took on new significance. Unfortunately, his own music is not that different from end-time Roxy Music: perfectionist studio technique and seamless production of songs that are at best bland and frequently lifeless. Boys and Girls (dedicated to Ferry's late father) doesn't sound that different from Roxy Music's 1982 swan song, Avalon, but it's so short on material that several of the numbers rely on fatiguing one-note vamps to carry them along. "Slave to Love" and "Don't Stop the Dance" have proven to be enduring hallmarks of Ferry's post-Roxy existence, but they don't make the album soar. Exceptional lyrics might allow one to overlook such inadequacy, but there's nothing much happening on that front, either. It's impossible to dislike the album with any enthusiasm — given the considerable care, thought and effort that obviously went into its creation — but it's dismaying to hear the iconoclastic rebel sound so tamed by the very thought of romance.
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