'Massacre' is just that

When I first heard that Duran Duran were collaborating with Timbaland on their new album, I was overjoyed. What could be better than pairing the dance-floor kings of the '80s and the noughties? Duran Duran, authors of such pop masterpieces as "Rio," "Save a Prayer," and "Girls on Film," have obviously influenced Timbaland — all you have to do is compare their 1982 hit "Hungry Like the Wolf" to the Timbaland-produced "SexyBack" to see how their classic muscular, bass-heavy sound is the '80s equivalent of Timbaland's now-ubiquitous production style. As for Timbaland, well he's exactly the kind of big-name producer who can throw the New Wave veteran back up the charts after two decades in the wilderness.

But I've got some sad news to report: The result is a real disappointment; an unfocused, garish mess of an album that once and for all labels Duran Duran as a group of has-beens whose time in the spotlight should have ended long ago. And the problem with the record? It's very simple: "Red Carpet Massacre" doesn't really sound like a collaboration at all. In fact, it sounds more like a mistake, like two totally different albums got spliced together in the factory.

The first is filled with slushy, bland, pop/rock numbers, and it's awful: a one-star disaster if ever I heard one. The only clues that this offensive schlock has anything to do with the Duran Duran of yesteryear are Simon LeBon's instantly identifiable vocals and his absurdly cryptic lyrics. Otherwise, most of these songs are the antithesis of everything that made Duran Duran successful in the first place: A band known for its pumping, bass-heavy dance tracks decided to inundate us with flaccid, overproduced, mid-tempo rock. With its sterile, faux-acoustic production and cavity-inducing chorus, "Box Full O' Honey" is the most conspicuous example of this trend; almost as bad is the first single off the album, the plodding, leaden "Falling Down." Sure, the chiming, U2-style guitar riffs give the song a nice texture, but the melody's sole hook is repeated ad infinitum, and the whole thing's a painfully obvious ripoff of Duran Duran's early-'90s hit "Ordinary World." What makes it worse is the misleading "feat. Justin Timberlake," which sounds more like "feat. John Mayer" to me.

What does sound a lot more like Justin Timberlake is the "second" album in here, but it still sounds nothing like Duran Duran. Take the lurid, club-ready "Skin Divers," for instance: Not only does Timbaland rap over most of the song, but with its squelching synths and fuzzy beats, it would have sounded much more at home on Timbaland's recent "Shock Value" than here. The same goes for the effortlessly stylish neo-disco of "Nite Runner," which is easily the album's best song — except it sounds more like Britney Spears than Duran Duran. So even though these songs are way better than the insipid crapola that infests the rest of the record, they sound like Duran Duran are guesting on their own album, providing a few vocals here and there while Timbaland does all the work.

Only a couple of songs find any kind of happy medium. The opening "The Valley," for instance, raises false hopes as it seamlessly marries a superb Duran Duran bass-line to Timbaland's trademark percussion style. Sure, the lyrics are a total mystery, but at least it sounds like band and producer are working together without overwhelming each other. The only other song that actually sounds like collaboration is the synth-heavy "Tempted." Sadly, it doesn't live up to its own potential, opening with an infectious verse melody but totally falling apart at the chorus.

On these songs, you get a glimpse of how brilliant "Red Carpet Massacre" might have been. The actual album, however, is a dispiriting mess that's all over the place stylistically and leaves me convinced of two things. First, Timbaland is spreading himself too thin and has started developing a by-the-numbers sound that he just lazily grafts onto songs. If you take out the vocals, for instance, "Skin Divers" sounds exactly like "Gimme More," and that's a worrying sign. At the moment, Timbaland's style still sounds cool, but considering he's got a packed year ahead, working with everyone from Stevie Wonder to Madonna, he'd better start spicing things up or it'll get boring.

More important, however, is what happens when Timbaland's not there, as this album proves. When Duran Duran are left to their own devices, the results are dreadful. Gone is the sleek pop genius of yesteryear, replaced by a wishy-washy pop/rock style that sounds like bargain-bin Barry Manilow. Conclusion? Go buy "Rio," the band's 1982 masterpiece, and leave "Red Carpet Massacre" alone.