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When people criticize pop music for lacking substance — or the more dramatic term "soul" — the criticism not only misses the point of manufactured, mass-marketed music, it also falls foul of the old axiom: be careful what you wish for. Substance is something that cannot be conjured; no sleight-of-hand can stir up soul, so what you get when the world of the album-sleeve Financial Management credit tries the impossible is something like the new Pink record, Missundaztood, in which soul somehow equates with acoustic guitars and co-writes with that-chick-from-4-Non-Blondes. Or the last No Doubt record, Return of Saturn, in which a desire to make an earnest, emotional and (tee-hee) artistic effort manifested as a set co-written and produced by Glen Ballard. Which meant that, in its moments of soul/substance, that album sounded rather like Fleetwood Mac. Circa Tango in the Night. No Doubt follow this with Rock Steady, another album that sounds terminally '80s. Only this time it's meant to. The impressive productional cast of Nellee Hooper, Sly & Robbie, Ric Ocasek and Prince remake the band in a makeover of montage-in-front-of-the-mirror proportions, ditching the dubious kiddie-ska/power-ballad marriage of the band's real-bad, real-rockband past and styling them up as modern-day pop-mannequins in a flurry of sonic hairspray, inhaled as conceptual chroming, Gwen Stefani and the increasingly anonymous guys huffed out while being dressed up and made up in the shiniest and kitschiest of authentic-sounding retro-tone. Thus the album is really just another example of a popular act adhering to a popular trend, with the record's eliding of rock instruments and emphasis on inventive production following the producer-as-star path trodden by the sizeable footsteps of Rodney Jerkins, Timbaland and The Neptunes. That said, Rock Steady certainly isn't that good, and at times it's rather bad (usually when Ocasek gets a bit Cars). But it does have its moments, most of which come at the hands of Hooper, who actually understands the productional aesthetic of dub. Meaning that, with his help, the combo's dilettantish dalliances with loves like lovers' rock actually sound, this time, like they should sound: like No Doubt actually know what they're flirtatiously fooling with. Thus, there's a purity even when the light is reflected through an almost opaque post-modern prism, with their contemporary rock-steady, off the beat on the eponymous closing track, sounding absolutely magnificent as Hooper brings parts in and out across the horizontal plane.
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