Still, in retrospect, the release can be seen as a bridge 'tween the proto-Eric Burden moves of his first solos and the cocktail swilling ne'er-do-well who'd host his short-lived "Happy Hour" on VH-1. You can really hear Johansen enjoying himself as a dance-clubber: his sense of fun as a vocalist isn't always captured on his studio albums, but it comes across clearly on Revenge. Lyrically, the album moves from still-topical topicality ("Have You Heard the News") to self-mockery to heartfelt romantic hokum. In "Big Trouble," he even makes Buster the hero of a Frankie and Johnny yarn, while in "I Ain't Workin' Anymore," he happily imagines being rich enough to loaf the rest of life away. (Best line on the album: "Let's go down to Norway and live like Vikings there/We'll be like Hagar and Helga; we won't have a care!") In "King of Babylon," he rappingly describes himself as a "benevolent despot," while in the sweet reflective ballad "In My Own Time," he describes himself watching beautiful people on a city sidewalk. They're the types of song stories you can imagine the saloon singer Buster assaying, if he weren't so busy rummaging through the discography of old r-&-b belters like Wynonie Harris and Roy Brown.

Johansen still Does the Rock, of course: most notably on the campily histrionic finale "N.Y. Doll." Backed by full-throated songstresses like Patti Scialfa and Soozie Kirscher/Tyrell, with guitarist David Nelson tossing in familiar-yet-still-compelling guitar riffs, you can almost hear Johansen bidding fare-thee-well to the band and sound of his youth - one more reason, I suspect, that so many Dolls fans stayed away from this disc. (And, to be fair, "Doll" is arguably the weakest track on the album.) I would've loved it if he'd gone on to explore the decade's dance-rock sounds more thoroughly, but it was not to be. Three years later, though, our man (with Delia leading the Banshees of Blue) would release his first Buster Poindexter album, leaving the barely known Revenge to linger on the shelves of a few hard-core obsessives. The disc deserves better, but then pop music is filled with such injustices. Me, I'm just glad I recalled I owned this CD . . .