Steve Vai, “Inviolate.”

I decided to review Inviolate, the new album by Steve Vai, because I’m a fan of his work with other people.

I’ll just say it so you can move on if you need to butter your toast or let your cat out or something. I’m not a guitar player. And if I was, I’d probably try to play like Steve Jones. In a band. With someone resembling a singer. Even worse, I play drums. I don’t know what an arpeggio is and don’t argue with other musicians in the comments sections attached to Tony MacAlpine videos.

And though I enjoyed Steve Vai with Frank Zappa, Alcatrazz and Ralph Macchio (or Paul Leary of the Butthole Surfers, depending on your preferred version), the solo guitar genre doesn’t do it for me (outside of Yngwie’s Rising Force because, my God, I was 16 and … my God).

I know a Steve Vai record in 2022 isn’t exactly recognizably mainstream rock. It’s for guitar nerds, not occasional guitar nerds like me whose favorite guitarists play within the context of great bands. Vai is for the ride or die fans who leave G3 shows exhausted.

So there’s something to be said for me liking parts of a Steve Vai record – just like some guitar geeks might say it’s even better that I don’t understand a lot of it, either. Fair point.

That said, Inviolate just blazes at times. It grooves occasionally. Sometimes it’s whimsical, something I’ve always liked about Vai’s playing. It’s unpredictable.

But it’s also disconnected. It’s rushed. At times, it seeks to just rip everything out of Vai’s brain, jam it through his guitar, and somehow still pull out sounds polished to a high plastic sheen, without any definable moments.

Vai shows he still knows drama on opener “Teeth of the Hydra,” which has the depth and subtlety of a noir soundtrack, building powerfully until all those noises start leaking from his brain into his hands.

“Zeus in Chains” could be a functional, mid-tempo rock riff until Vai reminds you that’s not why he’s here. He plays out a big musical showdown with himself that works until it ends with a whimper.

“Little Pretty” is fun in a weird, kids movie soundtrack kind of way. An emotionally complex kids movie, but you know what I mean. There are a gazillion “great” guitarists, very few of whom actually speak with their instrument. Steve Vai shows here he could walk around for weeks having entire conversations without opening his mouth.

It only took four songs before the predictable song to impress other musicians emerged in the form of “Candlepower.” There’s some jazz, there’s some offbeat soul, there’s a lot of “just because I can” playing. Though I must admit to enjoying Vai playing almost percussive hopscotch with his rhythm section at times.

“Apollo in Color” made me wonder whether the long lines of musical code so expertly delivered was done just because they could. Or maybe it was just fun to play, though it smelled of unsurprising prog rock. It sets the ears up for “Avalancha,” which at first sounds a bit too smooth until you find your ass being kicked with a riff that could dislodge boulders. That I get.

Maybe not so much for “Greenish Blues,” which one suspects is Vai’s version of blues. It does sound like the blues, here and there, before going off into tornadoes of notes that don’t have much in common with blues, despite an airy halftime beat. Sorry.

“Knappsack” makes Vai sound like the greatest guitarist hired to play sans singer on a cruise ship. It just doesn’t sound like real music reflecting much substance. His playing is insanely good, technically, but calling “Knappsack” a song instead of an exercise isn’t quite accurate. Final track “Sandman Cloud Mist” just gets ridiculous. Vai’s skill is insane, and it shows here. Somehow, I think I would’ve liked it more if I played it first.

Either way, it’s a Steve Vai record, and you probably already know if you like it or not. Or, maybe like me, just here and there. Which is still worth a try.

Follow music critic Tony Hicks at Twitter.com/TonyBaloney1967.