What kind of lunatic would suspend a gig as leader of one of the world's most successful bands in order to join a group of relatively unheard-of upstarts? Dave Grohl, arguably the most influential musician in modern rock, has done precisely that.
In a return to his Nirvana-era musical roots, the legendary wrench monkey has packed up his guitar and is once again making loud crash-boom-bangs from the drum riser, this time behind the Seattle group Queens of the Stone Age. As one of the most outspoken supporters of the Queens prior to the ignition of the media frenzy that now surrounds them -- thanks to his rather unorthodox career choice -- Grohl was a natural (if somewhat ambitious) choice for drum duties. He's the fourth person to fill that slot over the course of the past three albums.
Though Grohl generally is the one in the spotlight, some of his bandmates have considerable experience as well -- Troy van Leeuwen of A Perfect Circle mans the guitars and keyboards, and Mark Lanegan, previously of the Screaming Trees, lends his vocals.
Van Leeuwen is not as crushingly heavy as he is with A Perfect Circle, but he's still every bit as insistent. His bare approach meshes well with Grohl's similarly simplistic approach to percussion, and together the two of them are positively relentless -- there's rarely time to breathe between pulses. Lanegan spreads some typical Seattle-style vocals on top, reminiscent of Soundgarden's Chris Cornell on some songs, on others breaking into fantastically dissonant screeches.
The first few tracks on "Songs for the Deaf" feature the hard-driving rhythm section work that has been missing from the Foo Fighters ever since their self-titled debut. This sets the tone for the rest of "Songs," even when it calms down a bit for numbers such as "God is in the Radio" and "Gonna Leave You." Despite the occasional appearance of slower tempos and more restrained vocals, there is always a sense of urgency to keep the music moving forward.
The Queens' sound is heavy, but it's not the slick, well-produced pop-metal of Linkin Park or (let's face it) Metallica. In a refreshing display of both originality and reverence, the Queens use their unique approach to heaviness throughout the album while simultaneously paying tribute to many of their predecessors. For example, the first song owes no small debt to Led Zeppelin; the second immediately switches gears and borders on becoming a blues ditty. This makes it kind of hard to figure out just where these guys are coming from, but it's fun to pick the songs apart.
The Queens previously scored their only major radio hit with a cleverly titled ode to intoxication, "The Feel Good Hit of the Summer," a single three-minute drone with a chorus consisting of nothing but a long string of illicit substances. That song succeeded primarily due to its novelty value, but the Queens seem to be just as good at writing strong songs as they are at making fun of themselves. For example, "Mosquito Song" sounds like it belongs on Nirvana's beloved "Unplugged" album, and "Six Shooter" somehow packs four or five minutes of any other band's most brilliant work into a measly minute and a half.
By far the most surprising aspect of this album is the quality at which it was recorded. It's not strictly low-fidelity, since the vocals are generally pretty clear, but everything else just sounds, for lack of a better word, dirty. This is not grunge as in the genre. This is grunge as in "dirty," as in "filthy." It's as if the instrumental tracks were recorded onto an old, worn out tape coated with a mysterious residue of some sort and then haphazardly remastered. But for some reason it works, tying all the tracks together with a single common, dirty thread.
There are deeper forces at work here, but making sense of them is no easy task. The conceptual coherence is undeniable within the first third of the disc, so much so that it could easily pass as an outright concept album if only a theme of some sort was evident. Unfortunately, all they give us is a series of album cover images of circles and sperm cells. Go figure.
This album is saying something, but it can be hard to understand through the din of repetitive guitar riffs and predictable drum fills. The resulting confusion is both a blessing and a curse. Nothing entirely makes sense, which makes the whole mess that much more appealing; it becomes important to figure out what's going on. Whatever it is, it is fresh and original.
The Foo Fighters are only temporarily out of commission -- Grohl will be coming back next year -- but with each listen to "Songs," it's becoming harder to decide whether to anticipate a new Foos album or to savor Grohl's work with the Queens.
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