Them Crooked Vultures

Since we're in the home stretch of 2009, I figured I would join the multitude of other writers, journalists, bloggers, etc., in creating a best-of end of the year list. Of course, I'm not the biggest fan of the current music scene, so I didn't exactly splurge on all the big releases of the year. In fact, I've only listened to about ten albums released this year (I know, I'm such a music enthusiast). Since the total number of albums is relatively small, I'll only do a Top 5 list, one album a week until the end of December. So, let's kick it off with the most recent release of the Top 5, the eponymous debut album from Them Crooked Vultures.

Modern supergroups have always been hit or miss for me. There are, of course, the good--Audioslave, the Raconteurs, etc.--and there are the not so good--Velvet Revolver, Chickenfoot, etc. At first, Them Crooked Vultures struck me as a member of the latter group. The first singles I heard, "New Fang" and "Mind Eraser, No Chaser," just didn't sync with me very well at first. Still, though I've never been the world's biggest Josh Homme or David Grohl fan, the prospect of hearing the brilliant and reclusive John Paul Jones of Led Zeppelin on bass was too good for me to give up on them that easily. I'm glad I followed my instinct because I've really come around and now I can't stop listening to it.

The change of heart began to occur mid-way through the first song, "No One Loves Me & Neither Do I," when the band shifts from a laid back groove into a full-on Zeppelin-esque rave that must have made Jones feel right at home. The aformentioned singles have quickly become favorites, especially "New Fang," which has a bouncy rhythm I can't help liking. "Dead End Friends" for some reason strikes me as a lost track from Chinese Democracy, had Axl Rose done it correctly.

The Zeppelin influence goes beyond the presence of John Paul Jones. Grohl, who is probably the best Zeppelin drummer outside the Bonham family, pulls out all the stops and stays tight with Jones, who contributed to two tracks on a 2005's In Your Honor by Grohl's band, Foo Fighters. Jones' bass playing is about what you would expect from him--top-notch and tight with Grohl's drumming. While there aren't really any "Dazed and Confused" bass lines or "Lemon Song" solos, Jones proves that he's still got it forty years later (as if anyone thought he didn't). Adding further to the Zeppelin sound, he plays the occasional keyboard parts on "Scumbag Blues" and "Caligulove," as well as a lovely piano intro on "Spinning in Daffodils."

Homme, meanwhile, does his best Jimmy Page riffage and while he isn't the soloist Page is, he manages to hold his own on tracks like "Elephants" and "Scumbag Blues," in which he sounds like the love child of Jimmy Page and Jack White had they hooked up on the set of "It Might Get Loud." Handling most if not all of the lead vocals, Homme avoids imitating Robert Plant and thus turning it into a Zeppelin tribute by singing in his usual voice, the exception being a good Jack Bruce impression on the Cream-y "Scumbag Blues" and a David Bowie tone in "Gunman" and "Spinning in Daffodils."

I've probably pidgeonholed this album and this band as "Zeppelin-light" (Lite Zeppelin?) and to a certain extent, that's what it is--one Zeppelin member and two guys raised on his music playing similar riffs and rhythms. Many of the songs run the imitative range of bluesy riffs from the early albums to the heavy, funky rhythms of the later work. There's even a hint of the Eastern flavor on the dreamy "Interlude With Ludes" and the seven minute "Warsaw."

Still, the band does something that Chickenfoot and Velvet Revolver don't. In fact, it's the opposite. While those two stuck to the music of the assorted members' usual habits (i.e. hard stadium rock with Chickenfoot and hard post-grunge alternative for Velvet Revolver), TCV rely on their influences while keeping Grohl and Homme's alternative sounds at a low level. Along with the Zeppelin influence, there's also elements of Cream, and Deep Purple, among many of the other late '60s/early '70s classic rock acts.

To describe Them Crooked Vultures, I wish I could say "unique," I don't get to say it enough. I just can't bring myself to say it, though. They rely too heavily on the Zeppelin influence to say that. Instead, I'd say "distinctive." They're different from anyone else I'm hearing out there lately. It doesn't really change my views on modern supergroups (like I said, it's hit or miss, the Vultures being a hit), nor does it give me much more hope for the future (none of the members are exactly new on the scene). Still, it's albums like this that thwart my preconceptions and show me that there is still good work being done out there in the world of rock.

Piper at the Gates of Dawn

I wish I had been twenty years old in 1967. Among all the trippy splendor of that summer, I can't imagine how amazing it would have been to listen to Pink Floyd's Piper at the Gates of Dawn for the first time. It is always a fun listen, and even amidst the trippiest music of that year, it stood out. It combined drugs, psychedelia, space, and whimsy, and laid the groundwork for the band's future.

This was the innocent Floyd; before they wrote about time and money, political animal metaphors, and bricks in the wall. Syd Barrett sings of gnomes, bicycles, scarecrows and outer space over the backdrop of his punk-ish guitar playing and Richard Wright's ethereal keyboard. Barrett was admittedly not the guitarist David Gilmour was, nor was he the songwriter Roger Waters turned out to be. Still, he seemed very much into the music for the music's sake, and unlike his band mates didn't get swept up in his own ego, even if this is because he completely dropped off the radar.

This is among the trippiest albums in my collection. It manages to be just as psychedelic as Electric Ladyland, After Bathing at Baxter's, or any of the other acid-flavored albums of '67, but Syd Barrett's writing and the instrumentals make it much different from anything else. "Astronomy Domine" and "Interstellar Overdrive" are great space-rock jams, the latter of which ends with a climax that swings manically around your head. "Lucifer Sam" and "Take Up Thy Stethoscope and Walk" are raw rockers. "The Gnome", "Scarecrow", and "Bike" are all Barrett's trips into whimsy. The lyrics aren't terribly complex, but their simplicity works to balance out the spacey-ness of "Astronomy Domine" and the fantastical "Matilda Mother". The child-like spirit of "Bike" is a great contrast to the dark, thought-provoking brooding of Animals from ten years later, and listening to them back-to-back, it's like hearing a completely different band (which it was when Barrett left).

It's a shame Barrett didn't stay on with the band. One of my favorite photos of Pink Floyd is with all five of them: Barrett, Waters, Gilmour, Wright, and Nick Mason, not long before the sides split and the band went on to stardom, while Barrett dissolved into obscurity. It would have been interesting to see where the band went had both Barrett and Waters been present as songwriters. Still, you can't deny that Barrett was taken over by his vices, nor can you deny the results of Pink Floyd moving on without him, so it does well not to get too wistful about the possibilities of what might have been. Instead, we have Piper at the Gates of Dawn to show the beginnings of an amazing rock band blazing a trail that so many others would follow to this day.