Having read each of the Tales of City trilogy books, I was not a nauvice to Armistead Maupin's style. The first three books were wildly entertaining and so wonderful to consume. Every chapter lead you wanting to move to the next.

I had stopped reading Maupin's books for some time and when I saw "Michael Tolliver Lives" on the shelf, I snatched up, darted home, put on my favourite slippers and curled up in a comfy chair. I was so excited to get reintroduced to Michael--- more mature and so much wiser. It was like seeing an old friend.

But something was different. I realized that Michael was talking to me in the first person. His story wasn't being told to me, rather he was his own narator. I wasn't used to this, and it didn't work for me. Along with age and wisdom, Michael seemed to lose his edge. His first person perspective didn't endear me to him. As I read on, I found I wasn't picturing my old friend Michael, rather I was envisioning the author.

Rather than an extention of the "Tales" books, it came across as more of an memoir. Michael's young lover Ben could be Armistead's husband--- it seems there was a lot of the author's current life injected into this. It had interesting moments, but I found the overall experience someone lacklustre.

Even Anna, once the wildly excentric matriarch, seemed to somewhat dour compared to her days on Barbery Lane. It was good to get caught up with Brian and Marianne and some of the newer characters added some charm. His partner Ben, however, became increasingly annoying as the chapters went on. Is anyone that understanding? He seemed more an idealized figment than a real person. Was it wrong to wish that good ole Mikey would snap out of it and leave Ben in Orlando?

While it was nice to get caught up, my visit with my old friends made me realize, we'd all changed and had very little in common. We wished each other well and parted ways.

As Abba's last studio record, the band sent out a message to the world that they were no longer four, eternally smiling people who wanted to clobber us with bubbling, infectious pop music; rather now, they were telling us they meant business.

The interesting thing with the Abba catalogue is that you can hear their progression from one outting to the next. The Visitors is no exception--- it is infact, the most mature and progressive product they had ever done.

From the gloomy and lonely cover photo (gone are the bombastic outfits) which portrays them as four individual middle aged people looking off into a future without each other (indeed, by this point, the two couples were officially divorced)to the mood of the record's sombre notes, this is not your father's ABBA. The quality of the production, arrangements and performances helps this record, in my opinion, become a model for perfect pop productions. Arguably, a couple of the tracks crossed a line and moved past a traditional pop format (namely I Let the Music Speak and Like an Angel...) but with rich melodies and unparalleled vocal performances, they remain captivating.

This is a record where every member is in top form. Benny's melodies combined with his studio wiserdry, Bjorn's masterful English lyrics (showing a progression beyond anything he had ever written) and Agnetha's cool yet convincing story teller vocals shine beyond many of their earlier performances. But the true star here is Frida who brings a level of emotion and sophistication to her performances that we had never seen before. She manages to find her way through many different production and musical styles and stays believable and true through every note she sings. Listen to her on the bonus track "Should I Laugh or Cry"--- this is a woman who is frustrated and sad--- even if I never hear a lyric, the sound of her rich vibrato tells the whole story.

You don't have to be an ABBA fan to get the meaning of this record--- if you like perfect pop, listen to this... you won't be disappointed.