Amazon.com
The middle-aged master of the neurotic, witty, perambulating monologue nearly makes his midlife crisis of jock-dude-ness interesting on
Slippery Slope. It starts out interesting enough, with Gray turning 52 and meditating on his mortality, noting that his mother had killed herself at that age. Gray mixes such heavy meditations with the little funny details of life, keenly describing the speech patterns of Jamaican drug dealers in Washington Square Park or how the well-to-do dressed in their Aspen-ski-resort best resemble "expensive, brightly colored Easter eggs." But halfway through,
Slippery Slope becomes like a Robert Bly special on ESPN starring Woody Allen, as Gray croons about the exhilarations of skiing. Perhaps, like dreams, other people's sports stories--even existential sports stories--are best shared only with diaries, close friends, and analysts. James Taylor's sound effects and crummy-music-laden production do nothing to elevate this work to the level of Gray's other fine pieces, which include
Monster in a Box and
Gray's Anatomy.
--Mike McGonigal