Last year, after decades of producing little else but oh-so-sweet adult-pop and singer songwriter saccharine, Sir Paul McCartney dropped Electric Arguments, a collaboration with producer Youth released under the pseudonym “The Fireman.”
Though Paul had made a few minor Youth related records under this moniker in the 90’s, Arguments shocked more than a few listeners by juxtaposing the typical Macca elements with liberal experimentation, adventurous sonics and, for the first time in ages, an album’s worth of memorable tunes.
So why am I rambling on about Paul McCartney in the introduction to my review of the first release by nouveau-supergroup Them Crooked Vultures?
Perhaps it’s because this eponymous debut is, in many respects, the exact opposite of McCartney’s recent “Fireman” excursion. Them Crooked Vultures boasts Josh Homme, the prolific riff-merchant behind Kyuss, Desert Sessions and Queens of the Stone Age as its driving force. His collaborators, occasional QotSA drummer and session veteran Dave Grohl as well as John Paul Jones, the bassist and multi-instrumentalist from a little English group called Led Zeppelin, complete the group. With no slouches on board, Them Crooked Vultures looks about as good on paper as a Beatle making electronic music looks bad.
The problem is that Homme’s only apparent change in modus operandi here is to loosen up a little bit while his cohorts, frankly, do what they always do; Grohl’s drumming is succinct and energetic while Jones’ bass and keyboard skills round the heavy rhythms. What’s conspicuously missing is the sort of synergy that one would naturally hope for.
This is not a record without its high points. The riff in “Elephants” is memorably energetic, and JPJ’s contributions to “Gunman” provide a slight departure from Homme’s typical output. Hell, there truthfully isn’t a single bad song on this record, but the lack of even one great track akin to QotSA’s “No One Knows”, not to mention the cornucopia of standout tracks in both Jones and Grohl’s back catalogues, leaves this record stranded in the middle of the road; rocking and fun, but nakedly inessential.
For the first time in decades, it seems like Paul McCartney had the right idea.
