| Them Crooked Vultures |
| Written by Stu Ruiz |
|
Best of the 70s? Check. Best of the 90s? Check. Best of the 2000s? Check. Them Crooked Vultures features Queens of the Stone Age vocalist and guitarist Josh Homme, Nirvana's drummer Dave Grohl, and Led Zeppelin's John Paul Jones and bring you something you wouldn't expect. Staff Writer Stu Ruiz has more. First things first, let’s get the humdrum out of the way: the group Them Crooked Vultures consists of Queens of the Stone Age’s Josh Homme, Dave Grohl of Nirvana, Foo Fighters, and Queens of the Stone Age, and John Paul Jones of the little-known Led Zeppelin. As a super group they are immediately saddled with a slew of expectations, and it’s probably best to get such expectations out of the way now. Given the pedigree of the three musicians involved, I personally expected one of the heaviest rock albums around. Considering Homme’s penchant for hardcore-punk-influenced songs and down-tuned, sludgy blues riffs, Grohl’s predilection to pound on his drums like an over-zealous carpenter and Jones’ excellent work with arguably the best hard rock group in history, I was prepped for a monstrous beast of an album. To say they failed to meet these expectations would be doing the album a hearty disfavor. My expectations were merely averted. In its place we have been given a groove-fueled piece of prog-ish classic rock that, yes, occasionally rocks like the kind of monstrous beast you’d expect.Now on to the actual music, opening track “No One Loves Me & Neither Do I" opens with a funky drum beat soon countered by some unusually catchy cowbell hits and some angular guitars. Then the vocals hit and it is immediately clear that this is not a Queens of the Stone Age record. Throughout many of the songs Homme has traded in his distinctive haunting delivery for a style that weaves itself around the instruments rather than gliding over the top. On this opener those vocals tell of a girl asking the singer if he “could use a dirty bitch?” (the answer is “of course”) and in that case informs him that she’s “got a beautiful place to put your face” ( and as it turns out, “she was right”). That’s not to say that all the lyrics follow this kind of dirty debauchery though. Later in the same song the music decides to stop making you dance and instead sees fit to simply punch you in the face, giving Homme space to go into the kind of dark and occasionally witty philosophical musings his fans are used to. Sonically, the band produces a sound that recalls being pummeled by a thousand naked ladies: simultaneously creepy and sexy all the while punishing you with big riffs that pop up out of nowhere, leaving no time for mere questions like “who, why, and how in the world could this metaphor be apt?” Proving that point is “Elephants,” a stomping, wailing colossus of a song that would love to take prisoners if only everything in its path wasn’t pulverized to an aurally delicious pulp. It’s one of the albums heavier tunes thanks to a riff that does justice to its name. Oppositely, the next track, “Scumbag Blues” is a groovy, blues influenced number that trades off between sung verses including the line “spider plays the fool to lure the fly” with guitar solos that come packed with some wicked clavinet work courtesy of John Paul Jones, the Zeppelin bassist whose work throughout this album is fantastic. Just about every song has the kind of bass lines that seem to simply serve the song at first, but only begin to reveal their true scope with repeated listens. That’s not to mention all of the slide guitar, mandolin, and steel guitar thrown in as well, making for a versatile secret weapon. What’s remarkable is that despite all the stylistic shifts throughout, there is hardly a weak moment on the album, and over time the strength of each song becomes more and more apparent. “Warsaw or the First Breath You Take After You Give Up” is certainly an absolute standout, combining the heaviness of Songs for the Deaf-era Queens of the Stone Age with some great hooks and an impressive jam. It’s followed by two of the more hip-shaking-inducing numbers before finally leading into closer “Spinning in Daffodils”. A dark whirlpool of a song with a swirling yet punishing riff that offers only brief reprieves of melody which in turn serve as little more than fleeting solid ground before sucking you back into its brooding madness. That sentiment could very well sum up the record; for every moment of skuzzy fun there’s a bit of madness behind it, or at least a healthy dosage of odd making sure that the album is always just a tad off kilter. It probably would have been enough for this record to avoid feeling “safe” what with three such established musicians, but instead we have a remarkable album that feels truly memorable from the first listen. This isn’t the sound of accomplished professionals making music; it’s the sound of three artists and friends getting together, being inspired, and making something real, the idea at the heart of all great rock music. |
