 |
| Reviews |
Review by: Steven Chick, Melody Maker Magazine
Slow, like you would be if you considered cough medicine a pleasant mid-afternoon tipple. Feminine, in the only way you can be when you're four hairy guys plying a none-more-loud, pitch-black metallic soup. Graceful, like a panther waiting to pounce.
Queens Of The Stone Age take to the stage and lay out the brittle riff of "Regular John", liquid, supine basslines cutting through the crackle to line the tune with velvet, before Josh [Homme] (ex proto-slo-mo metallers Kyuss) laces the hoodoo with his entwining, androgynous vocals, Seventies AM radio transmissions bouncing back to earth off some faraway satellite.
Then "Avon" kicks in, bludgeoning riffola setting its sights on those out to cut short its dragstrip dervish or railroad their grand funk. Homme is back on hand, singing those gorgeous melodies over the top, apparently almost poignantly (if everything about this band didn't deny poignancy) unaware of the metallic carnage underneath. The woozy, solo-driven instrumental "Hispanic Impressions" is almost jazz, the eerie "You Would Know" more mordant, Alice-In-Chains-esque trip-blues.
But mostly this is sumptuous, luxurious metal. The closing "Walkin' On The Sidewalks" staggers in with the devil's own riff wrapped in foil and concealed in its skin-tight jeans - something a lot nastier than honey in its hips - and the band proceed to beat seven new shades of hell out of it with blunt bass shards and sun-drenched guitar screes.
The band never break a sweat.
|
| Pictures/Scans |
no pictures/scans
send your info/reviews/pictures in here |
|
|
|
|