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Editor's note: This was written by Jim Kippenber who - in previous articles - had shown himself not to be a Cowsill fan, so take as such.
And from the Mama Cowsill rock factory, there's a new MGM release called "Nervous Breakthrough," done by Bill Cowsill.
While it probably will make you nervous, it certainly isn't a breakthrough. It's made up of old songs mainly done in old styles and sounding like it should have come out six years ago.
It's all made up of early Beach Boy harmonies, Bill Cowsill's pubescent voice, everyday instrumentation and lackluster arrangements. Small wonder the American Dairy Association loves him.
It's one of those albums aimed smack at the bobby-sox, rosy cheeked little lasses dying of vicarious love affairs. While Billy Cowsill wails about lost love, moans about the end of the world and shrieks about how "It's in her kiss," his musicians do things they used to do at the Jr. High hops in the fifties.
Young Bill just doesn't have it. His album is a bummer.
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