Godsmack: The Oracle

Nearly a decade after the fall of nu-metal, Godsmack stands triumphant.  Korn is on the nostalgia circuit and Limp Bizkit can’t decide if they want to be a band or not.  Godsmack has their second number one album.  They remain the only relevant band of the TRL-metal era.  They should be commended for this achievement.

The first Godsmack album is one of the best examples of the nu-metal era.  At a time when guitars were used as rhythmic instruments, Godsmack’s traditional hard rock approach was refreshing.  Since nu-metal has retreated to the background, Godsmack is just another mainstream hard rock band.

The Oracle is like a piece of meat that has been overcooked and left under a heat lamp for five hours.  There is absolutely no taste, flavor, or color.  This is as bland as hard rock gets.  Every song follows the same beige formula. The song titles read like a roll call of badass clichés: “Crying Like a Bitch,” “Good Day to Die,” “Saints and Sinners,” “War and Peace.”   The guitars are heavy, but not so heavy that they would alienate program directors.  They chug along as Sully Erna bleats some lyrics about pain or something.  Then there is a bridge to the chorus, which is slightly louder than the chorus.  Add a couple wanktastic solos, and you have The Oracle.

After listening to The Oracle several times, I couldn’t recall a riff, a lyric or a solo.  This is the problem with many mainstream hard rock bands.  Godsmack has earned the right to tinker with their sound.  They could experiment with loud and soft dynamics.  Erna could try to lower his voice to add some shading.  The guitar solos could be less arena rock influenced and slightly more technical.  But they don’t.  They are coasting on the goodwill of a couple dynamite singles, and their fans have been duped by it.

The saddest part of Oracle should have been a neat moment.  Near the beginning of the title track, the band plays a few notes from Metallica’s “Call of Ktulu.”  This is an inspired musical allusion, and it grabbed my attention.  However, instead of applauding Godsmack for their subtlety, I couldn’t stop thinking about Ride the Lightning.

Godsmack should be an interesting band.  Their lead singer is a devout Wiccan.  That’s so metal!  They make references to it, but they aren’t exploiting it.   They aren’t bad musicians either.  The guitars play in tandem nicely and the rhythm section is solid.  They don’t know how to escape radio rock purgatory.

If any Godsmack fans are reading this, you are probably saying to yourself, “Well that’s all fine and good John, but I just want to rock out.”

I understand.   Rocking out is an exhilarating feeling; I do it daily.  However, there are better things to rock out to.  How about The Wildhearts or Hanoi Rocks?  Thin Lizzy?  AC/DC?  Even the first Godsmack album would be a better choice.  The Oracle claims to know all and see all, but it hasn’t left 1999.

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Psychedelic Furs

I know, I’ve been lax lately, but tons of stuff has been going on.  I hope to be back on a regular schedule soon.

In the meantime:

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My Kingdom for a Good Piece of Bubblegum

If you have visited YouTube in the past few weeks, you have probably seen the video of twelve-year old Greyson Chance performing Lady Gaga’s “Paparazzi.”  Like most internet video sensations, Chance was invited on the Ellen show.  The Ellen show garnered huge ratings and even more hits for the adorably floppy-haired young man, whose interview was peppered with a bunch of precocious “likes” and “uhs.”

In this digital age of ours, the life cycle of an internet fad is about two or three weeks.  Chance will be around for at least another six months.  Last week, Ellen DeGeneres announced that she would be forming her own record label, eleveneleven, and Chance would be her inaugural signing.

My initial reaction was to write a blog about what a travesty this is. After thinking about it for a while, I realized that this is the way pop music has always worked.  A half-century ago, Chance would have been discovered on a street corner, singing with a group of his buddies.  He would have been Fabian.

YouTube is not the problem here.  Greyson Chance is being ascended to the pop star throne by a celebrity with a vanity label.  This is the kiss of death.

Pop music relies on A&R more than any other genre.  Behind every great pop group, there is a Svengali.  The Monkees had Don Kirchner. The Jackson Five had Berry Gordy. The New Kids on the Block had Maurice Starr.  These bands succeeded because the people backing them knew a hook.  Would Ellen be able to pick out “Last Train to Clarksville” or “I Think I Love You?”  There is a stark difference between liking a hook and being able to pick one out.

While in New York for my sister’s college graduation, I was lucky enough to pass by the old Brill Building.  I peered in the heavy glass doors and tried to imagine it in its glory days.  Paul Anka, Carole King, Gerry Goffin and Neil Diamond were paid to do nothing but write pop songs.  The names behind those songs have faded into time, but the work stands on its own.  Today is the age of the superproducer.  We have Scott Storch, The-Dream and The Neptunes.  There isn’t the same collaboration between the songwriters and the producers.

So instead of a rant, this blog is a challenge to Ellen DeGeneres.  Impress me.  Pull a rabbit out of your hat.  Give Greyson Chance a pop song that will make me overlook his negligible charisma.  Hire the dudes that wrote the first Click Five album.  Hell, hire Carole King to rewrite “Something Good.”   Do something, or else I will be forced to write yet another blog about the death of popular music.  I really don’t feel like doing that, Ellen.  I’m starting to sound like a broken record.  If you give me a great piece of bubblegum, I won’t make fun of Greyson Chance’s teeth….for two months.

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I’ve Had This Song in My Head Lately

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RIP Paul Gray

Another member of the heavy metal tribe has passed on.  Slipknot bassist, Paul Gray, was found dead in an Iowa hotel room.  Cause of death is unknown at this time.  Gray was known as “The Pig” in Slipknot parlance, and played on every one of their studio albums.  The band has yet to make an official statement. He was 38 years old.

I was a big Slipknot fan in high school, and their music has aged much better than some of their counterparts.  They had downtuned guitars and a DJ just like every other band did, but they were the closest to traditional metal. Their second record, Iowa, was a key album of my sophomore year of high school.   “The Heretic Song” still holds up.

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Sleigh Bells: Treats

Treats is not a record for coming down on a Sunday morning.  It’s a rager.  It’s a club at 3 AM, packed with beautiful people and cigarette smoke.  It’s snorting lines of cocaine and chasing it down with shot after shot of whiskey.  It’s waking up in your trendy loft apartment and trying to figure out just what the hell happened last night.

In Kurt Vonnegut’s short story, Harrison Bergeron, the smartest people in society are forced to wear earpieces that transmit excessively loud noises when they have an intelligent though.  This is what Sleigh Bells sounds like.  Treats is an abrasive record, full of clanging keyboards, charging guitars and skull-obliterating drums.  The noise is almost overpowering, but there is a layer of sweetness that runs through, and her name is Alexis Krauss.

The opening track, “Tell ‘Em,” begins with three rapid-fire drum fills followed by churning stabs of guitar.  In the middle of all this mayhem, Krauss comes in.  Her voice is girlish and sweet, similar to Ronnie Spector.  She rarely changes her inflection and the lyrics are almost unintelligible over the chaos, but her presence shows that Sleigh Bells is more than distortion.  Underneath the layers of noise, they are essentially a pop band.

Sleigh Bells is the brainchild of former Poison the Well guitarist, Derek Miller.   You can see shades of his former band in the guitar, which is insistent and grating.  However, he also has a gift for dance grooves, exemplified by the single, “Crown on the Ground.”    Although everything is mixed in the red, the groove is irresistible.  Using a mixture of distorted guitars and industrial keyboards, Miller created an alternate universe version of DMX’s “Party Up.”  When something is mixed to maximum capacity, it’s easy to get caught up in the noise and forget about the music.  With Sleigh Bells, the hooks come first.

The highlight of the album is “Infinity Guitars,” which sums up the band’s aesthetic in three and a half minutes.  It’s a simple arrangement; just a guitar riff and some drums.  The guitar and drums are loud, but much softer than the rest of the album.  It lumbers along for the first couple of minutes, with Krauss singing demurely overtop of it.  At this point, “Infinity Guitars,” is the most conventional song on the album, but it switches gears in the final minute.  The riff doesn’t change, but the intensity does.  Krauss is barking, trying to keep up with the hurricane behind her.   Sleigh Bells changed gears so rapidly that I found myself knocked back.  It’s a devastating moment.

It’s trite to suggest that a record needs to be played at maximum volume, but it’s really the only way to listen to Treats.  If your brain isn’t slamming against the back of your skull, you aren’t listening to it correctly.  It’s a beautiful piece of noise

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Remembering Ronnie James Dio

It was a sweltering summer day in Columbia, Maryland.  The sky was streaked with grey as Jon and I filed into Meriwether Post Pavilion to see Heaven and Hell.  The stage looked like the altar of an ancient cathedral.  The lights went down, and a five-foot tall man appeared onstage.  He ran to the microphone and started to sing, “SING US A SONG, YOU’RE A SINGER!”  At age 65, Ronnie James Dio could still sing most singers under the table.  We marveled at his ability.

“He’s even tinier in person!” Jon said. “Where does that voice come from?”

“I don’t know man.  He’s insane.”

It is a testament to Dio’s talent that Heaven and Hell never felt like a nostalgia show.  They played the old stuff sure, but the highlight of the night was the new song, “The Devil Cried.” Ronnie introduced it with the classy sophistication of a big band crooner.

“All right you guys, this song is called ‘The Devil Cried.’ I hope you all enjoy it.”

A split second later, he was throwing up the devil horns and summoning notes from the depth of his soul.  He had thrown up those horns thousands of times, but he never seemed to get tired of raising them high.  The people paid to see Ronnie James Dio, and did all he could to live up to their expectations.

Dio’s sword and sorcery lyrics and over the top theatrics may seem silly to outsiders, but they had their purpose.  Like many metal performers, Dio believed that if you paid money to see him in concert, you deserved a show.  You could see the money from ticket sales onstage as he fought mechanical dragons and literally raised the devil from the bowels of hell.

Dio’s musical talent was phenomenal, his live show was over the top, but Ronnie James Dio should be remembered as one of heavy metal’s greatest ambassadors.  He never took himself too seriously, singing with Pat Boone on his 1996 album In a Metal Mood and making a cameo in Tenacious D’s The Pick of Destiny.  Although his lyrics could be pretentious, his interviews were honest and conversational.

Dio was also well known for his generosity.  In 1985, he organized Stars, heavy metal’s answer to “We Are the World.”  He extended his generosity to fans, always taking the time to talk with them and sign autographs.

Ronnie James Dio was the embodiment of heavy metal music.  When he stepped onstage, he became ten feet tall; the star of the masquerade.   I am thankful that I got to see him on that hot June afternoon.

Rest in peace, Ronnie.  Ride the tiger.

*raises devil horns*

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2010 M3 RockFest Preview

The M3 Rock Fest will invade Merriweather Post Pavilion on June 18.  Here is your handy-dandy guide to this public display of hairspray abuse.

Scorpions

The Scorpions are supposedly on their final tour, so the M3 Rock Fest will be the last time that “HELLO BALTIMORE, WE ARE THE SCORPIONNNNNNNNNNNNS!” will echo through the Pavilion.

Cinderella

Underneath the big hair and spandex, Cinderella is a great blues-rock band.  Tom Kiefer’s scratchy yowl is more Rod Stewart than David Lee Roth.  The only downside is that Eric Brittingham’s beautiful blonde palm tree no longer exists.

Vince Neil

It’s not Motley Crue, but it’s the voice of Motley Crue. That counts for something right?  He’ll play “Too Young to Fall in Love,” which is awesome in any context.

Kix

I rarely pass up an opportunity to see Kix.  Steve Whiteman is still one of the best frontmen in the business.  I never get tired of his corny double entendres.

Warrant

Jani Lane is no longer in the band, but they still have his songs.  The big hits are often cited as the worst example of the genre, but they work beautifully in an arena setting.

Winger

There was a time when I hated Winger with the white hot intensity of a thousand suns.  I’ve come to realize that I hated them for the same reason I hated Hanson; Kip had better hair than I did.

Nelson

Nelson is the butt of a lot jokes, but they don’t take themselves too seriously.  “After the Rain” is the definition of a guilty pleasure.

Jetboy

Jetboy is coming into the M3 with a ton of momentum.  Their five-song EP is one of the best hard rock records of the year, but they break out in a live setting.  You wanna see these guys.

Also appearing:

LA Guns

Trixter

Dizzy Reed

ZO2

Black Mambooza

Bang Tango


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Andy Rooney Doesn’t Like Modern Music

After watching this, I expected Mr. Rooney to tell the story of the time he took the ferry to Morganville, which is what they called Shelbyville at the time.

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Free Energy: Stuck on Nothing

If you believe the hype, Free Energy is the band that will bring power pop back into the mainstream consciousness.  The world could benefit from a dose of jangly guitars and killer harmonies, but I don’t think Free Energy is the band to do it.  Stuck on Nothing is a solid album with some good songs, but it lacks a spark.

Power pop is all about formula.  Take a group of awkward guys (but not too awkward), play some heavy riffs (but not too heavy), throw in some huge choruses and have them pine for girls.  When this formula is done correctly it is irresistible.  Free Energy has gotten a lot of it right.  The title track is practically a power pop instruction manual.  The drumbeats are simple and made for clapping.  The guitars have just the right amount of crunch, and the arpeggio is accomplished but doesn’t interfere with the melody.   The music is perfect, the vocals are not.

Vocals are the most important part of power pop.  The role of the a power pop frontman is not to play ringmaster, but to convey the hopes, dreams, fears and longing of his audience.  The dudes who go to power pop shows don’t have much luck with the opposite sex.  They need an avatar. The great power pop frontmen (Robin Zander, Eric Carmen, Rick Ocasek, Butch Walker) are able to convey this uneasiness with just enough confidence to win the girl at the end.  After listening to Scott Wells, you get the impression that he doesn’t have self-esteem issues.

Paul Sprangers is a cool guy.  He sings each lyric with the kind of boredom that only cool dudes have.  He sounds a bit like Julian Casablancas, a patron saint of hipsterdom.  Power pop is about nerds being neurotic.  Look at the classic tunes: “I Wanna Be With You,” “Is She Really Going Out With Him,” “I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend.”   The cloying vocals are what make the sound so huge.  “Bang, Pop” has the potential to be a modern classic, but Wells laconically sings the chorus.

Ultimately, it’s a matter of personal taste. Sprangers is a good singer, and the band is great.  “Dark Trance” sounds like it came from 1977.    The guitars chug along before building to a solo that sounds like it came out of Tom Scholtz’s basement.

Every genre needs to be shaken up now and then.  But power pop is something that I really only want one way.  Am I overanalyzing and overthinking? Yes, but that’s what exactly what attracted me to the genre in the first place.  Even though it’s not traditional enough for me, it’s still worth a couple spins.  There always extra room for a catchy chorus.

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