Reprinted without permission from _Request_ - Sam Goody's in-store freebie
music magazine:

Robyn Hitchcock & The Egyptians - Respect (A&M)

by Jim DeRogartis

	The obvious reason Robyn Hitchcock called his 13th solo album _Respect_
is that he's tired of not getting any.  On each new effort, he delivers four or
five irresisitable singles, as well as some pleasant but familiar filler that's
still better than the best by many other pop bands.  Unofrtunately, he's been
unable to connect with a larger audience beyond his dedicated cult, partly
because of his own willful quirkiness, and partly because A&M seems unable to
promote offbeat or alternative artists (both Soul Asylum and Matthew Sweet went
on to greater success at other labels).

	To his credit, Hitchcock has never let his frustration tarnish his
music, even when he was making a conscious effort to be radio-friendly on
1992's _Prespex Island_.  On _Respect_, he's given up trying to please anyone
but himself and his longtime band, the Egyptians, and oddly enough, the album
is even more accessible than its predecessor.

	Producer John Leckie parked the BBC mobile studio outside Hitchcock's
home on the Isle of Wight as Hitchcock, Andy Metcalfe and Morris Windsor sat
around the kitchen table harmonizing.  Hitchcock himself decided that the
trio's jangly guitars and melodic bass lines were becominga cliche, so the band
avoided amplified instruments entirely, performing on acoustic guitar, upright
bass, and such found percussion as Coke can, cheese grater, and tuned
wineglasses.

	But _Respect_ isn't some wimpy "unplugged" effort.  The 10 songs
bristle with the energy of a band that still gets a kick out of playing
together after 17 years.  "The Yip Song" and "Driving Aloud (Radio Storm)" rank
amongst Hitchcock's best and most uplifting rockers, and "Arms of Love," "The
Moon Inside," and "Then You're Dust" are some of his most genuine and touching
ballads.  The rest of the album follows the tried-and-true Hitchcock formulas
-- "When I Was Dead" and "Railway Shoes" sound a lot like "Sounds Great When
You're Dead" and "Trams of Old London -- except for the mock Barry White rap,
"Wafflehead," which is noteworthy as the worst failed experiment since "Ted,
Woody and Junior" in 1986.

	After 13 albums (18 if you count Hitchcock's stint with the Soft Boys),
it's inevitable that even the best songwriters will repeat themselves.  It just
doesn't seem right that critics condemn hHitchcock for it while applauding Neil
Young.  What Hitchcock really needs now is a _Decade_-style box set to compile
all those unique and wonderful songs scattered throughout his catalog -- that
and a label that doesn't treat him like Rodney Dangerfield. (9/10)