Since hearing Queens of the Stone Age's "First It Giveth..." from Songs for the Deaf, I must confess that I've been secretly pining for them to pour more coy falsetto over their churning riffs. It's a sound that could easily sustain an entire record. While QOTSA's follow-up to Songs was consistent enough, it's becoming more apparent that ringleader Josh Homme is getting some of his best work done away from the weight of expectation, from the Desert Sessions to Eagles of Death Metal, whose first record was much more consistent and satisfying than most had expected. Now, EoDM return with Death by Sexy, further proving that this high-octane novelty has more than just joke appeal, and granting my QOTSA wishes in the process.
Singer Jesse "The Devil" Hughes (or Boots Electric, or whatever sassy moniker they've slapped on him today) is the perfect manifestation of QOSTA's lighter side, slipping between a manic Mick Jagger caricature and a Cramps-like amphetamine Elvis. For a record that revels in the clichés of rock, his attempts are terribly cute. Where Queens of the Stone Age have always explored the dark and dirty, the excess and the evil, the nicotine, valium, vicodin, marijuana, and ecstasy, the Eagles of Death Metal crank up a cock-rock sound that's free of any danger or seriousness. This isn't subversion, this is good clean fun.
One would think innocence and cock-rock would be like fire and holy water, or that a record that just skims through familiar modes couldn't sustain itself for an entire album, but here, all bets are off. The cuddlification is kind of the appeal: Despite lyrics like "I touch you there because I know the spot," they rock "I Gotta Feeling (Just Nineteen)" with the absurdity it deserves-- sleazy, but in the same way as a Tijuana Bible comic. There are tracks a bit too campy to hold up for repeat listening, like "Shasta Beast" or the bizarre swamp lullaby "The Ballad of Queen Bee and Baby Duck", but mostly it's the camp that makes it work; they get away with "I Gotta Feeling", as well as the pregnant pauses on "Don't Speak (I Came to Make a Bang!)", the faux-Delta blues of "Bag O' Miracles", and, in "I Like to Move in the Night", being the umpteen-millionth band to quote "Brown Sugar". EoDM may nearly cross into Ween territory, but rather than roaming all over the stylistic map, they consistently stick to a rubbery ZZ/Stones pastiche.
The other main reason it works: Homme probably doesn't want the puppet master tag, but the drums are perfect. Totally ham-fisted but still incredibly intuitive and propulsive, they're the bedrock of this album's goofy appeal. Death by Sexy rubs out the line between novelty and earnestness, reminding us that music doesn't have to be ironic to have a sense of humor.
