It could be that I've been missing the point for 10 years, but I've always taken the Blues Explosion at face value. In my estimation, their curled-lip punk-blues shtick is sharp and virile enough that, despite the mascara and wet-dog haircuts, it can't be a put-on. Spencer, like a reformed criminal rueful of his sin-soaked days with Pussy Galore, once said, "We love music way too much to be doing it as a joke." And the love shows up in the band's track record: moonshine ranting with R.L. Burnside, homage paid to James Brown on Orange, eight window-rattling albums. It all adds up to a band so in love with the blues they had to kill them.
I guess my question is this: Are we so mired in po-mo irony that on witnessing such artistic devotion we conclude it must be a joke? Can't a guy just rock out with his cock out and mean it? I know it's not popular opinion, but after seeing the band destroy several concert stages I'm convinced they're on the level. They've consistently, diligently mined rock 'n' roll for the primal power and backdoor mojo it had when it was still the devil's music. And like the man says, they've done it with love.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is not the devil's music!" Spencer informs midway through Damage. Well, fuck. Maybe I have been wrong all this time. In its grab bag of styles, inflated instrumentation, and rogues gallery of production credits (Dan Nakamura and DJ Shadow take the boards along longtime BX cohort Steve Jordan), Damage is a far cry from the stripped-down screech that made these guys famous. In its contrast, it calls out everything the Blues Explosion once was and now isn't. Kind of like the weak-ass rhymes all over To the 5 Boroughs that made me realize how infantile the Beastie Boys' lyrics have been throughout their career (which somehow also made me love them even more), the inevitable clichés on Damage reveal the shortcomings-- and the potential-- of the entire Blues Explosion concept.
Basically, that concept is a one-trick pony still kicking thanks to impetuous experimentation and an endless supply of attitude. There's a fair amount of musical talent thrown in, too, mostly in the form of demolition man Russell Simins. But Damage's heavy-handed production so overcrowds those core elements that the album ends up feeling more like a collection of Blues Explosion remixes than a regular release. Which isn't entirely bad, because some of these tunes are raging classics begging to be added to your "Saturday Night Kickstart" playlist. Others are pure filler. Let the downloading commence.
By far the most memorable number here, "Crunchy" is a swaggering, midtempo boogie that actually finds Spencer singing the chorus straight. The Automator's production is flawless, nestling Judah Bauer's guitar, funhouse Wurlitzer, and a deliberately sluggish bassline next to (not on top of) each other for a polished, almost pop-rock effect. It's a sprawling surprise-- one thing the Explosion's never been is pop-- and it works better than you'd likely expect.
"Burn It Off", the album's first single, is one of the only two songs featuring just the three-pronged Blues Explosion lineup. Like a Now I Got Worry outtake beefed up through Pro Tools (like most songs on the record are), their original fire is at full crank as Simins and Bauer shout Stooge-like backup chants behind Spencer's vocals and scuzzy guitar. Its B-side is the DJ Shadow collaboration "Fed Up and Low Down", a buck-wild electro-blues mashup that pivots between vintage soul and hardcore with some vinyl scratched in for color. It's another experiment that hits the mark, but sounds like it was meant for another album.
As does "Rivals", a jazzy, horn-laced instrumental that winds through some intriguing ideas before sadly fading out after less than two minutes. But the biggest disappointment here is "Hot Gossip", a half-baked pseudo-protest song with Chuck D phoning in a few poorly placed come-ons. With no real rap to spit, Chuck's talents go to waste repeating Spencer's trite slogans. This one's particularly bad, but the rest of the songs (with the exception of the filtered bass drum bombast of the title track and the weird dub blues of "Spoiled" with Martina Topley-Bird) aren't worth mentioning because you've heard them before on previous albums.
I assume Spencer meant to galvanize and revitalize his Blues Explosion by shortening the name. Seems like the Blues Explosion is trying to hold on for the long haul, and moments of Damage prove there's still some passion left seething under the leather and denim. But if they're going to keep things fresh, newfangled production will only carry them so far. Their conviction-- feigned or not-- has always been what's fueled them, and that can only come from inside.
