In 2010, there were rampant rumors that his band, Roxy Music—arguably one of the most influential supergroups that existed—would reunite not only for a world tour but also an album of new music, the first since 1982's Avalon (Virgin Records). That tour got underway in Europe, with Roxy motoring through western Europe right into Russia. However, the first hint of a letdown was the set list, mostly Roxy classics from the band's fertile period in the '70s.

Then out came Olympia (Virgin) (with Kate Moss' kisser on the cover), which was not a Roxy reunion despite the presence of one Mr. Brian Eno, but another Ferry solo album. It would be too easy to say that this particular fan is disheartened but alas, after giving Olympia a good several months to sink in, as Bob Dylan once said, "...it ain't me, babe." To say Olympia is disappointing ain't the whole enchilada. In actuality, it's pretty and pretty dull and is the cliche that Ferry's detractors have accused him of for decades. That Ferry has turned into a clone of his younger self isn't the disturbing part though. I just wondered if this was the best he could do why he even bothered.

The first sound on Olympia is what betrays it—a fade-in from Avalon's fade-out, "Tara." "You Can Dance" and "Alphaville" kick it off in a pleasant enough fashion, but what's really here is a million dollar production with little melody or much of a hook. The album is all silken smoothness with Ferry ruminating on his usual obsessions in his lower registers without artistic risks in his vocals or a change in temperament. A funky bass line and a chorus of spiky female voices enliven "BF Bass (Ode to Olympia)," but that's as frisky as Olympia gets.

Granted, there are moments of elegance ("Reason or Rhyme," "Song to the Siren") but they lack drama, the one element that made Ferry's post-Avalon albums pop and stick. By the sound of Olympia, Ferry has become one of the housewares that he coveted on "San Simone" or "In Every Dream Home A Heartache"—classy and chic as all get out but without soul, humor or vulgarity. However, what really makes the album a downer is the cast list: Nile Rogers (of Chic), Andy Newmark (Roxy Music), Flea (Red Hot Chili Peppers), Neil Hubbard (B.B. King), Johnny Greenwood (Radiohead), The Scissor Sisters, Dave Stewart (Eurythemics), Eno (Roxy, Bowie, Talking Heads, U2), Dave Gilmour (Pink Floyd), Phil Manzanara (Roxy), Andy Mackay (Roxy), Chris Speeding (John Cale) and Steve Nieve (Elvis Costello and the Attractions), among others, pop through. With years of production (approximately eight) and a group of all-stars like that, Olympia should have been far better than it is.

However, if the album is a disappointment, Ferry's recent show at the Civic Opera House was not. The tip-off was the venue itself—a huge grand ornate space dripping in class and old-world elegance that seemed designed just for him. After singing non-stop for the past year and a half it was a bit of a shock when Ferry opened his mouth for the evening's entrance, "The Main Thing," and proved that his voice is as lithe and smooth, if not more mature, then ever.

Unlike the Roxy tour this show had a mix of his solo work ("Let's Stick Together," "Don't Stop the Dance," "Slave to Love") and Roxy classics ("If There Is Something," "Oh Yeah," "Casanova"), as well as the usual covers which he has by now taken as his own ("Hurricane," "I Put A Spell On You," "Jealous Guy"). There weren't any jaw-dropping surprises (like say "Virginia Plain," "Mother of Pearl," "Goddess of Love," or the obscure "Help Me" from The Fly soundtrack) but it was hard to complain with Ferry, dressed in a blatantly elegant black shirt and suit; embracing the microphone as if to whisper into a lovers' ear; and literally drugging his rapt audience with his voice.

To say that his tone has deepened and displays a slight raggedness is to say that this particular artist, who at times sounded effete earlier in his career, has evolved vocally in such a way that was impossible to predict. Coupled with a continuous collage of video projections reminiscent of Kenneth Anger's avant-garde film work and sections of—dare I say it—operatic intensity (a dark, over-the-top reading of "Boys and Girls"), Ferry has managed to become an event unto himself. And if all that high-falutin' drama and art seemed to miss the joy of rock 'n' roll, the bang-up finish of "Editions of You," "Love Is the Drug" and Sam and Dave's "Hold On" put that notion to rest. That only three of Olympia's songs turned up in the show ("Alphaville," "Reason or Rhyme," "You Can Dance") may have revealed how slight it really is, but that's beside the point. Roxy or no, Ferry remains an artist and performer for the ages.