THEM CROOKED WANKERS
A little over a week ago, I still felt so very excited about Them Crooked Vultures, the supergroup featuring such rock stars Dave Grohl (Foo Fighters, Nirvana), Josh Homme (Kyuss, Queens Of The Stone Age), and John Paul Jones (some obscure 60s/70s band). With Grohl back behind the drums again and Homme as frontman, this somewhat clandestinely publicized grouping swelled with potential and promise.
Then, I saw them live.
Them Crooked Vultures suck in spite of themselves, churning out some seriously generic and geriatric classic rock at New York’s Roseland Ballroom last week. I respected them for refusing to play any recognizable tracks from any of their projects, but I would’ve respected them a whole lot more if the songs weren’t so damn boring. The Crooked Vultures are like a cover band that staunchly plays B-sides from B-list hard rock bands. Clearly Grohl, Homme, and Jones were having a terrific time on stage, and the audience members–many of whom were under the influence of illicit substances–nodded their heads and applauded politely. But as each song blended blandly into the next, it became painfully clear to me (and less so to Miss Elise of Reign In Blonde who also attended) that Them Crooked Vultures self-indulgently wank way more than they selflessly rock.
So if you dig great musicians making middling music, you’ll definitely want to pre-order Them Crooked Vultures’ debut on CD and vinyl. The release date for this thirteen-track snoozefest is November 17.