Leave it to hit-chasing arena rockers Foreigner to adopt industry slang for a group’s second album as a kind of mission statement; this identical-twin sequel to their 1977 debut is nothing if not sophomoric.

Double Vision features the same lineup as said debut—Lou Gramm (vocals), Mick Jones (guitars, vocals), Ian McDonald (guitars/keys/horns), Al Greenwood (keys), Ed Gagliardi (bass) and Dennis Elliott (drums)—along with the exact same vibe. Alternately blustering and whiny, swaggering and wallowing in self-pity, Double Vision plays out like a Mardi Gras of arrested emotional development.

As before, the formula-driven album contains precisely three varieties of songs: brash, riffy rockers; sappy, maudlin ballads; and yawn-inducing mid-tempo numbers. An early warning sign appeared when I scanned the track list for the first time in—admittedly—decades and found the only titles I recognized were the three singles. Much of the rest is as memorable as the fine print on a rental car agreement.

First single “Hot Blooded” (which reached #3) kicks the album off in classic Foreigner style, its horny-adolescent haiku of a lyric poured into an airtight, radio-ready song structure. I once described this track as “dumb as rocks”—an unkind thing to say about those poor innocent stones, who wouldn’t be caught dead singing a couplet as mortifying as “You’re makin’ me sing / For your sweet, sweet thing”—but this song’s central riff and chorus are as inescapable as an IRS audit.

Opening side two of the original vinyl, the #2 title track is the highlight here, with snappy verses segueing to ringing choruses and an arrangement that leaves space for the entire band to strut a bit (the lyric is gibberish, but around here we call that Tuesday). Third single “Blue Morning, Blue Day” (#15) is three minutes of victimhood wrapped around a driving, sticks-like-glue guitar-and-keys melodic hook, as an increasingly desperate Gramm pleads his case to an ex who I always imagine rolling her eyes at his histrionics.

From these modest heights, the downhill grade grows steeper.

The vaguely cinematic instrumental “Tramontane” is the only one Foreigner ever released and the most interesting track on the album, representing a road not taken, with Greenwood as lead writer. Jones’ post-bitter-breakup rant “Back Where You Belong” manifests an unexpected Beatlesque flair, even if it’s in service of a cliché-ridden lyric that he insists on singing himself (whatever, guy).

And then you’re into “Oh dear” territory, a familiar Foreigner haunt.

“I never knew a man could be so lonely / That life could treat a man so wrong” goes the topic sentence of “You’re All I Am” a drippy, droopy Jones ballad of zero-self-esteem codependence. Gramm and McDonald co-write “Love Has Taken Its Toll,” a rumbly barroom blues-rocker that manages the feat of swaggering and whining at the same time. “Lonely Children” is a mid-tempo mélange of disparate riffs and ideas that never jells, and “I Have Waited So Long” is a Jones penned-and-sung ballad that’s syrupy enough to be poured over waffles.

Closer “Spellbinder” generates some actual musical tension with the most prominent bassline the group ever featured, powering the final track of Gagliardi’s career with the band. A steady build draws in guitars and strings, but it’s like dressing a stick figure in royal purple; you’re still left with empty clothes.

“[S]lickly produced, commercially powerful, but artistically vapid” is how dean of the West Coast rock critics Robert Hilburn described Double Vision, which honestly seems generous, even for an album that somehow made it to #3.

And then there’s the Rock Hall.

Putting Foreigner in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame is the musical equivalent of giving In ’n’ Out Burger a Michelin star—and yet, people line up by the thousands at their drive-thrus every single day. If it’s formulaic meat-and-potatoes arena rock you’re after, Foreigner serves it up with eye-watering consistency, and Double Vision will do as well as any of their first three albums, which are all basically the same one.

Rating: C-

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