There was something almost quaint about watching Them Crooked Vultures' recent performance at Washington D.C.'s 9:30 Club. Yes, the music was punishingly loud and, sure, the chops on display were near godlike, but a bunch of dudes pumping their fists to a hard-rock supergroup? Once the domain of the Claptons and Crosbys of the music world, the supergroup seems to be coming back into vogue. From the Jack White-helmed Raconteurs and Dead Weather to the multi-bearded onslaught of Monsters of Folk, it feels like the confines around a musician's "main band" are looser than ever. Which makes sense: the majors' slow death and the general grab-bag atmosphere of the industry makes these collaborations easier than ever. And, of course, they open a new revenue source and creative outlet for the parties involved, so why not?
Well, history is littered with plenty of reasons why not (Velvet Revolver or Zwan ring a bell?), but even those dubious of these projects couldn't help but register excitement for Them Crooked Vultures, the much-talked-about alliance of Queens of the Stone Age's Josh Homme, Nirvana/Foo Fighter Dave Grohl, and John Paul Jones, who once played bass for this band called Led Zeppelin. (Also recording and touring with the band is QOTSA's Alain Johannes, let's not forget.) A few of those being, y'know, some of the greatest rock groups of all time and each player a fierce instrumentalist in his own right, the stage seemed set for these gents to join together, like Voltron, into some kind of indestructible hard-rock juggernaut. That happens occasionally on their self-titled debut, but the band also tussles with some of the same problems that have befallen many a supergroup before them.
As he's done with past iterations of QOTSA and his long-running Desert Sessions project, Homme takes the lead here, serving as frontman and steering the musical direction. The record features all the trademarks of a Homme-led affair-- druggy, mutant blues, loud/soft dynamics, songs about sex, and regular forays into the silly and absurd. The musicianship throughout is as phenomenal as you'd expect, and on a gut level it's thrilling just to hear these three men play together-- the way Grohl's snapping drum hits ricochet off Jones' rapid-fire bass notes on songs like "Scumbag Blues", for instance. (Grohl, in particular, is excellent throughout, affirming once again his destined place in a rock band.) And the guys themselves are clearly having fun. Amidst all the technical shredding, there's a looseness at play that seems to stem in part from Homme and Grohl getting to live out a boyhood fantasy. Oddly that becomes kind of a problem on the record.
One of the negative aspects of a supergroup is that the presence of multiple stars tends to disrupt the natural hierarchy of a band-- meaning that there's no one to shoot down bad or unnecessary ideas. If you're Josh Homme and John Paul Jones or Dave Grohl wants to take a bass or drum solo, you let him. And Them Crooked Vultures often feels overstuffed with the weight of too many ideas. This is especially true on longer cuts such as "Elephants" and "Warsaw or the First Breath You Take After You Give Up", the latter nearly eight minutes of prog-fueled, time-signatured madness that closes with an extended instrumental outro. Sure, these guys have earned the right to do that, but that doesn't make it a good song. Yet for each of these trying numbers, there's a muscular hard-rock track like "Dead End Friends" that helps make up for it. And if you simply want to hear Homme/Jones/Grohl sync into a furious, interlocking groove, there are songs like "Gunman" that offer that too. Having said that, Them Crooked Vultures still feels like a record to be checked off a list rather than one to live with and fully invest in.
