Speaking of burning, Roxette is burning up da charts again.
To be absolutely honest, I’ve never plugged in a complete Roxette album before. I knew someone who shamelessly pirated the few songs that everyone tripped on, you know, The Look, Joyride and so on. Their edgy, Swede-pop sound is still instantly recognisable on Room Service, so recognisable that I’m just about waiting to hear ?She’s got the look!? after the typewriter rattle of ?the centre of the heart is a suburb to the brain?’ Roxette writes ballads, but you probably didn’t remember they wrote so many. The record oozes with typical Swede romance, vaguely chilly vocals, and glossy, slick synths.
As for those ballads, they leave me quite unmoved. Attempts at depth – Jefferson and Looking For Jane – find them quite out of theirs. Praise be that these two aren’t learning to rock (the fun part), for that would make them intolerable. And so Roxette cruises on, tossing more their choice bits of jittery pop in your path. Some will burn some will buy.