Personally, I envy Linda Perry and her writing collaborators; it's not easy to write cohesive music in a drunken stupor. What's more envious is that she could sing without slurring in the same state, which is pretty beyond human.

Whether the drunk part is true or not, In Flight sure doesn't live up to its name. Produced by Bill Bottrell, the former lead vocalist for the 4 Non Blondes (hits including "Dear Mr. President" and "What's Up") steps into the solo platform with suprisingly laid-back material which is almost disappointing. There is almost no background and the mood changes very slightly here and there from beginning to end.

What you hear mostly is a powerful voice kinda rumbling in the background which never shows its true colors. "In My Dreams" shows she still has technique and style but goes on a continuous repeat without going anywhere. "Freeway" gives a little more powerwise, but it stops in the middle of the song. "Uninvited" is exactly the same.

Counting her chicks before they hatch, "Success" is a little pathetic in subject matter but still a successful clone of the two tracks before it. Everything up to here is very DARK and DEPRESSING; like the day I heard about Pavarotti's no-high-C night in Carnegie Hall. Not something you listen to in the summer (though residents in the Southern Hemisphere might want to pick this up).

By this time I'm having a hard time distinguishing the tracks, but out pops "Life In A Bottle" which actually shows some determination, albeit determination to become more depressed than she actually is. The first track with single potential. Then comes "Fill Me Up", a clone of "What's Up" (hint: the last word of each title), a little tinkered to fit her new mood.

From here on, it's *really* hard to tell one track from another. "Knock Me Out" featuring Grace Slick would be a good down track if it wasn't surrounded with other good down tracks. Still no change. "Too Deep" is exactly that; I have yet to hear "Taken" after twenty runs of this record, and I'm beginning to think that it's simply not there. "Fruitloop Daydream" takes those stupid commericals one step further and it sounds like Cliff Stoll's description of Halloween in San Francisco in The Cuckoo's Egg (good book ... but I am a music critic).

At last, the end of the album!!! She finally tells you what's wrong in "Machine Man", and it is not pretty. This man is not present only in her life, which makes it all the more empathic a track. The mood carries to "In Flight" which is where we leave her all alone in her solo debut; or rather she leaves us, to fly away in the only song here that carries any hint of hope.

This review would've recieved a higher rating if I didn't know what she sounded like as part of a band. Stripped of her three non-blond friends, she's nervous, forced, and awkward. Though she tries not to show her insecurity, it's too obvious, and she's not fooling me when she says it's the new her. Though the sound itself is more sophisticated from the fluffy pop stuff, why kill technique to compensate? Alcohol is a renowned muse, but don't let it get in the way of projecting.

Rating: B

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