The genius of Zuma can really be be summed up by looking at the cover for a few seconds. A peice of shit? Politically incorrect? Wasted? Definetly. All that and more, but in a great way that’s truely representative of American attidude in art and the human spirit itself, which is "fuck it". Throw finesse out the window, close your eyes, and floor it. Let your gut and your soul make every decision and only keep your brain around to hold the massive amounts of cocaine you’re giving it. This is the world ZUMA was birthed in. Neil was finally free from a sprawling divorce and the unwanted fame following him since Harvest. He was not going to approach any love songs like a well spoken folkie. Too pussy, too dishonest. To really say what he felt he had to do while giving the finger, even when the songs are overwhelmingly beautiful. Unreserved 70’s guitar rock at it’s classic best, but capturing a vibe in the open feeling and wasted irony that still sounds fresh next to The Replacements’ Let it Be or Guided by Voices’ Propeller. –Alex
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