Despite the proliferation of A records this month — two of them — I have settled on a depressing thesis: I don’t believe artists are trying to make good albums any more. The basic reason is a lack of material. Every time a group breaks up or a leader goes solo, not only does a lot of collaborative experience go out the window, but the songwriting talent thins out. The record componies don’t care, though, because they know that albums have been established as the basic “artistic” units of the music — which has always been mostly a fiction, anyway — they sell on name rather than quality. All the companies want is product. An artist with a lot of charisma - which is to say, an artist who is willing to break his ass touring two or three times a year — can count on a core of fans who will buy three or four mediocre albums before they wise up. All that is necessary is two or three cuts that are good programming, AM or FM, and a moderately intriguing stage act that can be reduced to plastic. Where does it all lead? Into the shit. Tune in next month for further prognostications.

Eric Andersen: “Blue River” (Columbia). I was ready to discard this but because it was so pretty I suffered second thoughts, which is too bad for both of us. In 1967, Anderson sounded like early electric Dylan, so now he sounds like.. James Taylor. He’s honest enough to back himself with a girlie chorus, but that’s as far as his honesty goes. If I’m liable to run into noodleheads like Andersen walking down some country road, I’ll feel safer in Central Park. C.