Published on Feb 1, 2001
C.C. Deville might come off as being the clown prince of ’80s
rock these days. He’s survived harrowing days of drug addiction and
come out of it with the same unbridled energy he had during the
glory days of Poison. Yet some people probably winced when they
heard that not only was Deville starting his own side band,
Samantha 7, but that he would be the group’s lead vocalist as
well.
Well, stop wincing. For all the antics Deville has been involved
in, he proves on Samantha 7’s 11-song, self-titled debut that he’s
no idiot when it comes to making music, and this disc, while a tad
short, proves that fantasies can still come true, even when you’ve
lived out most of your own.
With a backing band of bassist/vocalist Krys Baratto and drummer
Francis Ruiz, Deville and crew pound out their music with the same
intensity as a punk band from the ’70s would. They come in, deliver
the goods, and get out before the bulk of the party guests know
what hit them. And maybe that’s the way good rock and roll should
be.
Tracks like “Hanging Onto Jane,” “Slave Laura” and “Framed” not
only capture a humorous side of Deville that maybe he couldn’t
express in Poison, but it proves to the world that the man can
actually sing. Granted, he won’t be doing opera any time soon (and
I think Deville would readily admit that; my dealing with him,
while pleasant, was a brief encounter), but he’s no slouch when it
comes to his own material. Some may say that he wrote the songs to
fit his voice… well, what’s wrong with that?
Deville even manages to evoke a little sympathy on songs like
“Cover Girl” and “I Wanna Be Famous,” the latter a portrait of
looking at the high-life through the fogged-up windows of outside.
In a way, it’s strange to hear – after all, Deville has tasted the
forbidden fruit of success, and he took one seriously big drink
from its nectar bowl. Yet it is humbling to hear someone like
Deville pining for those days again – adding an air of humanity to
the disc. How refreshing!
The only qualms I have with
Samantha 7 are minor, to say the least. I wish the album was
longer (it clocks in at just under a half-hour), and I would have
liked to have heard Deville go absolutely nuts on the guitar like I
know he’s capable of doing. Then again, maybe that’s what everyone
was expecting, so Deville decided to totally distance himself from
his persona in Poison and played more controlled, subdued
solos.
Samantha 7 hasn’t gotten the attention that it deserves, but
Deville should be able to look back on this disc, smile, and tell
himself that he did indeed prove to the world that he was more than
capable of making music without the trappings of the band that made
him a superstar. Let’s hope that the powers that be get a slap
across the face, wake up and start calling people’s attention to
this disc… it’s worth every penny of your money, as well as every
second of your time.