Queens of the Stone Age - Songs For the Deaf
(Interscope)
Many earth years ago, before an unfortunate explosion of genrification and labeling threatened to consume music journalism in its entirety, there once was a sound style precariously perched between "rock" and "heavy metal" that went by the name of "hard rock." This hard rock, or "rawk" to the phonetically adventurous, supplied chunky slabs of riff slathered in feedback, wedged between an able rhythm section of deep bass and loud drums, topped off by a singer of questionable vocal talent. One day that sound seemingly slithered into the sea like the lost city of Atlantis. Fast forward ahead to the present day and behold the glory of Queens of the Stone Age. Comprised of band members whose individual pedigrees come from differing schools of style and substance (Kyuss, Dwarves, Screaming Trees, Masters of Reality), the group has already carved an enthusiastic following with two remarkable full-lengths filled to the gills with deft hooks, slick lines, and heavy sinkers. But on this, their third and most thoroughly realized album to date, the whole becomes even greater than the sum of its multi-talented parts, with each song fitting so securely into the next that the record nearly melts together like one extended blurry foray into the stoned immaculate sunset of a distant exploding nebula. But that is only the beginning.
The monster headrush begins with one of many fake radio station interludes, most of which feature self-deprecating disc jockeys mocking the tired state of American radio with fabricated station names like KLON ("clone radio") or KRDL ("curdle radio, we spoil the music for everyone"). Although these tongue-in-cheek skits serve as cleversegues from one song to the next, they stand as the lone distraction from an album that is unrelenting and inspired from front to back. As the first tinny strains of "Millionaire" squeak from the radio squalor in the opening sketch, the listener is wholly unprepared for the song to practically burst out of the speakers and smack each cheek like a latex glove of tough love. The pounding beat is supplemented with handclaps while buzzsaw chords threaten to shred the cut to the sinewy bone even before Nick Oliveri's distinctive growl chomps through the mic and shouts his lines. This opening blast is quickly followed by "No One Knows," the first single whose simplistic backbeat verse is countered by a riff-heavy chorus that bounces around the fretboard effortlessly with added meat from the downstroke of the rhythm track.
Though some would be content to take a breather by the third track, QOTSA choose to continue the aural assault with "First It Giveth," a song that prominently offers a definitive example of what makes Dave Grohl a phenomenonal drummer - the chorus, which sounds rather convincingly like a double bass pedal at work, is actually just Dave crushing his kit the only way he knows how. His driving footwork pushes the song to the brink of self-destruction, racing along the edge of a lofty precipice with two wheels to the breeze. Josh Homme's prime guitar playing is matched only by his practiced falsetto, strong enough to share airtime with his normal singing voice but fragile enough to provide a solid contrast to Mark Lanegan's gruff veteran snarl, who growls menacingly on tracks like "Song For The Dead" and "Hangin' Tree." With a lolling intro to disarm the audience, "The Sky Is Falling" snaps to life with Homme's crunchy chops slicing the meter into sections while Grohl's sticks exercise restraint by stopping and starting on cue, widening the instants of silence into mile-wide rifts that only serve to further accent the stomping tempo. "Six Shooter" is a brief burst of mayhem from Oliveri, a perfect halfway point for this record.
If there is a key that unlocks the mysteries of the QOTSA, it would most likely be the interplay between Homme and Oliveri on nearly every song. As Homme's guitars churn a mix of thick chords with sweltering lead licks, Oliveri's bass rides the line between rhythmic center and melodic counterpart, adding greater depth to the tune. Grohl is merely the hidden weapon, the secret ingredient included here for the first (and probably last) time, and he is the perfect fit for a duo whose sole intention is to cut their own unique swath into the fallow fields of rock n roll. Tracks such as "Go With The Flow" and "Gonna Leave You" break no new ground as far as style or influence is concerned, yet they plow by in under three minutes and leave nothing but a chorus in your mind and a donut on your front lawn. "Do It Again" brings a sing-along "hey" to the verse as Homme harmonizes with himself in the chorus before breaking off a bridge with a heinous descending progression and thumping double kicks for both ears. Lanegan appears again on "God Is In The Radio," a casual march that saunters along menacingly until everything drops out but the single note of a piano, all so the entire jam can be reconstructed one step at a time for maximum effect as the bridge ends. Homme commands a brief outro solo of fierce fretwork, fading into nothing as "Another Love Song" appears from out of the ether, ripping past in the blink of an eye while delivering another accessible power-pop gem filled with layered background vox and Homme's reverberating guitar. The hour-long journey closes with "Song For The Deaf," a mighty epic driven by twin lead melody lines that joust with thundering tom work through the verses, pausing during the chorus for a brief respite before resuming with vengeful ferocity, almost reminiscent of the multi-tracked excess of Metallica's ...And Justice For All. It is the QOTSA masterwork for this record, and rightfully so as the title track. Homme summons unholy shrieks from his axe, channeling every manner of ill spirit and committing it to tape for the unbelievers to accept. Oliveri's bottom-end supports the busy leads and tosses in competent changes to keep the vamp fresh and exciting. Grohl shines on every track, splintering his drums with blistering fury, a punk rock caveman if ever there was one, savagely beating heads into reluctant submission.
Queens of the Stone Age have crafted a record so complete and so powerful, it's truly difficult to find any fault with the infallible results. Perhaps the skits unify the album in a way that could not have been accomplished otherwise, but they still come off as a distraction after absorbing the disc on repeated listens. Yet they certainly don't detract from the consistently pummeling songs that make up the bulk of the record. The listed 'Hidden Track,' "Mosquito Song," is a dark acoustic tune with sinister violin and tympani sharing space with horns and twelve-string guitar to bring the set to its eventual conclusion. This eerie inclusion couldn't have been more appropriate. Also be sure to rewind about ninety seconds before the first track on the disc to hear "The Real Song For The Deaf," an unlisted bonus cut.
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