With only a handful of veiled performances to their name, Them Crooked Vultures came to Nashville's War Memorial on Oct. 5 with high yet unanswerable expectations.
There was little to divine from the crowd - with no knowledge of the music to come,
only age divided up the audience, with its mix of 70's (the Zeppelin fans), 90's (Foo Fighter frontman Grohl united with his drumkit) and Double Aughts (Queens of the Stone Age).
Aside from a few camera phone shots and mumbled song names, they had given up little about themselves. But the members needed no introduction ... well, rhythm guitarist Alain Johannes did.
The main trio got an uproarious when singer/guitarist Josh Homme introduced drummer Dave Grohl and bassist/keyboardist John Paul Jones. The other two got their share of cheers, but even Homme seemed shocked at the decibels added for the Led Zeppelin bass player. All he got out was, "I know," as he still felt surprised to share the stage with Jones.
I can't say if this band is merely a chance for Homme to play with his dream lineup, but he put on such an electric show with Jones and Grohl that it didn't matter.
"I think this is our tenth show together. No one knows the music so everyone has to listen. It's a little old school," Homme admitted near the end. Going in, nobody knew what to expect during the first show on the supergroup's brief North American jaunt.
Minus headphones, people might remember this as the concert where deafness officially set in. For those of us in earplugs, the trio delivered a slab of rock heavier than almost anyone.
Now, the music cannot escape comparisons to Queens of the Stone Age's Songs for the Deaf, upon which Grohl played drums. Homme's clean vocal style gives the music a precision that most metal acts lack; Homme actually has range and doesn't resort to growling and guttural lows. But it also becomes an unbreakable link to his main band.
Luckily, the musicianship rose above their past accomplishments. Jones broke in with some nice harmonies and led a chorus or two. Homme's vocal drew eerily close to Layne Staley of Alice in Chains on a few tracks.
The music grooved as nothing from the Queens or the Foo Fighters could, the splashes of piano and keyboard orchestrated by Jones prevented any lapse into metal monotony. Back to the seat he occupied in Nirvana, Grohl looked wholly content when bashing it out as he played with Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem Band.
On the catchy Scumbag Blues - one of the few audible song titles - Homme hit his high range in voice and guitar, with squealing notes at times resembling the late "Dimebag" Darrell Abbott from Pantera.
The keyboards were a little more difficult; Jones broke out a keytar on one of Homme's "love songs," and then mercifully traded it back for his bass. But he showed his adept skill on piano, gradually dialing down a 60's pop melody into brutality on par with No Quarter. One later effort saw Jones jump away from the bass in time to give one brutal song a slightly bittersweet piano coda a la Faith No More on Epic.
Them Crooked Vultures closed with a jam that took some proggy twists, where the three principals seemed to challenge each other technically, pushing the tempos to stranger heights while rattling the floorboards. Grohl grew extra arms, Homme switched from speed metal to skillful blues without a hitch, and Jones was the rock, never breaking a sweat. Rarely will any musician weave through such intricate basslines so effortlessly.
The shredding jam concluded in a few grungy chords, and they departed without an encore, the shortcoming of many a band with one album to their credit (one unreleased album, in the Vultures' case).
In one show, Jones, Grohl and Homme firmly established Them Crooked Vultures as their own animal. Recognizable songs were a luxury, but in the age of instant media, the supergroup preserved its air of mystery, if only for one show.
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