SCORPIONS – Lonesome Crow

Recorded in October 1971 and released in February 1972, eight years after the band’s original formation, the Scorpions’ debut album ‘Lonesome Crow’ contains just over forty minutes of music which represent a young band feeling their way.   Barely touching on the direct style of Germanic hard rock which would become their signature, unsurprisingly, the album isn’t often spoken of very positively among rock and metal fans.  This is a great pity since, if taken on its own merits, ‘Lonesome Crow’ contains some superb musical performances, even though it doesn’t really excel in the actual song writing department.

Like Thin Lizzy’s debut, or the three criminally underrated discs by Deep Purple Mk I (released between 1967-69), ‘Lonesome Crow’ is an album that isn’t very representative of the band Scorpions would evolve into a few short years later. If it gets mentioned at all, it’s usually for it’s being the only Scorpions album to feature founding guitarist Michael Schenker on all tracks.  Looking beyond that, the album ought to be re-appraised for its interesting musical qualities, particularly those from the rhythm section.  Combined, drummer Wolfgang Dziony and bassist Lothar Heimberg are fantastic pairing, and while Dziony isn’t always stunning as a drummer in his own right, his interplay with Heimberg is top notch on various tracks featured here.  Heimberg, however, is a fabulous bassist, with his complex basslines often lifting the band’s experimentation above mere meandering.

It’s Dziony whom gets to open the album; during the intro for ‘I’m Going Mad’, he at first breaks into a fill which sounds like it could power a drum solo, before his toms lay a basic pattern which is intercut with woodblock percussion.  This is complimented by a solid bassline from Heimberg which has plenty of peaks and troughs; Rhythm guitarist Rudolf Schenker fills spaces with a basic chord structure, over which his brother Michael lays down a couple of reverbed leads.  Aside from a selection of wordless ahh’s, vocalist Klaus Meine is given relatively little to work with initially.  Even the inclusion of an early Deep Purple-esque spoken vocal adds little to the general mood, by which point ‘I’m Going Mad’ sounds like a bunch of half-jammed musical ideas welded together in the hope of something igniting.  It’s enjoyable in a pseudo Uriah Heep kind of way, but the number doesn’t entirely work as an opening statement. Even when the band hits their stride during the closing moments – with Michael Schenker’s playing featuring a harder edge and Meine’s vocal nearing a full-on wail – there’s a sense that the track ought to have had a little more overall structure.

For the next couple of songs, there’s a marked improvement.  ‘It All Depends’ demonstrates how the fledgling Scorpions can hold their own in a hard rock environment.  This number is a little more direct than the opener, thanks in part to a main riff which resembles Black Sabbath’s ‘Rat Salad’.  Also giving a sense of urgency is an extensive use of muted strings – undoubtedly influenced by Ritchie Blackmore’s work on Deep Purple’s 1970 cut ‘Flight of the Rat’ – and Dziony’s Ian Paice-esque drum fills.  The amount of general Deep Purple influence cutting through this number cannot be understated; the feel is all there, and the general tone of Michael Schenker’s lead guitar work really hammers the influence home.   Even though Meine’s vocal performance is limited to a short verse leading into what is essentially a two and a half minute showcase for Michael Schenker’s ferocious playing, he also seems to relish the brief opportunity to cut loose.  While Mr Schenker undoubtedly believes he is the star of this show and we all should be listening to him, nothing he plays is nearly as fascinating as Heimberg’s busy basslines.  Heimberg is amazing here and his lead bass work could certainly rival that of anything to be heard on the much bigger albums of the day – be they by Deep Purple, Black Sabbath, Led Zeppelin or Uriah Heep.

Uriah Heep could have recorded ‘Leave Me’ as part of their ‘Very ’Eavy, Very ’Umble’ debut.  Not only do Meine’s lead vocals occupy a similar space throughout to those of David Byron, but listening to the overblown choir of backing vocals, any comparisons with Heep are absolutely unavoidable.  Taking a slightly more laid back route than the previous numbers, Meine is given ample opportunity to stretch his vocals, while Rudolf Schenker’s rhythm guitar work takes an untypically jazzy tone.  Michael Schenker’s lead work is superb during his first solo spot, and while he takes an obvious blues-rock stance, his playing is slightly more subdued than previously; he wisely recognises that ‘Leave Me’ is a very vocal piece.  He can’t hold it in forever, mind, and for his second turn in the spotlight, the entire band quickens their pace in order for him to shoehorn in a more obvious hard rock solo.

The opening bars of ‘In Search of the Peace of Mind’ with its twin leads would suggest we’re headed for a hard rock blast – something more akin to the sound Scorpions would hone to perfection over their next two releases.   And then, after a brief foray into Uriah Heep-esque choirs, things take a u-turn.  The hard rock mood dissipates as quickly as a balloon struck with a pin, and Schenker pulls out the acoustic guitar.  While the main musical refrain is pleasing enough, its flowery nature soon becomes in need of something grittier.  That grittiness soon comes, but when it does, it doesn’t quite know what to do to make an impact.  Dziony hits harder behind his kit, though never making it far out of the musical starting blocks, while Meine’s rock voice sounds very uncomfortable (and not especially tuneful).  A couple of good musical ideas sound like they could be lurking within, but on most levels, this is a tune which just does not work.   The atmospheric, spacey ‘Inheritance’ has a similar mood in places, but fares much better due to a top vocal performance and Michael Schenker’s guitar prowess.  Those looking for a chorus are as likely to be left wanting (as is most of ‘Lonesome Crow’s wont), but musically, Schenker’s blues runs, rock posturing and general bluster is just about strong enough to carry this number alone.

‘Action’ is one of the album’s best offerings, with the band sounding much tighter than on many of the album’s other cuts.  The real draw here is that aforementioned connection between Heimberg and Dziony, as the walking basslines find a great space between the jazz-rock drum patterns.  Over the fusion rhythms, both Rudolf and Michael Schenker are able to play a simple guitar line.  Simplistic it may be, but it’s just enough to help everything gel.  While still somewhat distanced from straight hard rock, Meine’s lead vocal stretches outside of its previous cagey approach, to break into a few louder tenor moments, far more akin to the vocal style he would adopt over the subsequent Scorpions releases.  The arrangement is still rather more flowery than that of the Scorpions’ work which would follow, but here, they prove they are capable of hitting hard, and particularly so during Michael Schenker’s brief but sharp lead guitar solo.

While most tracks on the album have their moments, everything gets dwarfed by the grandiosity of the title cut, which closes the album, filling thirteen-and-a-half minutes of the albums second side in the process.  A long intro featuring drones and echoes gives way to a lead bass riff – clear and precise – accompanied by gentle jazzy guitar inflections and Klaus Meine’s lead voice – booming with a presence rarely heard on the album prior to this moment.  Meine has still yet to settle on the signature sound he would adopt from 1975’s ‘In Trance’ onward, and granted, his heavy accent makes any of the lyrics hard to pick out; still, it must be argued this is a powerful vocalist in the making.  Despite this, as the rest of the band break in to the track’s first instrumental break, it’s obvious that despite his best vocal efforts, he’s kicked to the kerb by the rest of the band.  Michael Schenker’s lead work is bracing, containing a great fiery passion, under which Heimberg plays busy bass runs, possibly surpassing many of his already fantastic performances.  At the end of this instrumental tour de force, ‘Lonesome Crow’ could have reached a natural conclusion, since in many ways the track has already reached its peak, but there’s much more to come.  After such a rock-filled lead break, it’s time for the Schenker brothers to step back and let Heimberg take control… His bass solo is jazz-rock oriented, and although you’ve already heard Heimberg achieving similar results during ‘Action’, this is certainly no weaker; throughout a couple of minutes, he holds a commanding presence.  Dziony backs him suitably with a jazzy backbeat.  It’s easy to imagine that both Heimberg and Dziony had been playing with such jazz-rock ideas during quiet moments in rehearsals, but it’s far more impressive that such a jam could take pride of place within such an epic number.  Naturally, soon enough Michael Schenker wants back in on the action, and throws a brief solo over the jazz-rock bones.

The second half of this long workout is noticeably weaker, since it is entirely constructed of filler and repetition.  A couple of minutes of drums played at a relatively funereal pace – coupled with Klaus Meine wailing – really loses momentum.  Even the addition of vibrato filled guitar leads does nothing to help.  ‘Lonesome Crow’ could have dispensed with these couple of minutes, but it’s soon clear this is mere mood setting, a lull in which to prepare the listener for Michael Schenker’s killer lead guitar work waiting around the corner.  Breaking into his second major solo, Schenker’s spiky leads sit atop an equally busy lead bass, with the band settling into the groove which began the number, bringing things full circle.

Unsurprisingly, given its preference for experimentation, ‘Lonesome Crow’ was not a great commercial success.  Back in the early 70s though, bands were rarely dumped straight away if they were not an overnight sensation: and luckily so for Scorpions, since they obviously came with plenty of potential – they just needed more time to refine their sound.

After the album’s release, the band suffered a major loss of personnel as bassist Lothar Heimberg and drummer Wolfgang Dziony left the band.  By 1974, lead guitarist Michael Schenker moved on too, joining UFO for their third album ‘Phenomenon’ after having been invited to fill the position after Scorpions supported the UK rockers on tour. Klaus Meine and Rudolf Schenker, meanwhile, were left to pick up the pieces. They couldn’t throw in the towel just yet…

July 2011

THE JOHN STEEL SINGERS – Tangalooma

Their name may sound like a community choir, but Australian band The John Steel Singers aren’t named after a man. John Steel, in this case, refers to a small toy horse named by frontman Tim Morrissey.  Since their choice of name leans towards the surreal, you would perhaps expect their debut full-length release to be quirky, and it many ways it is. But make no mistake, quirky in this case doesn’t usually mean humorous or novelty; ‘Tangalooma’ blends various 60s influences and serves them up with a hint of 90s alternative rock, sometimes achieving interesting results.

‘Evolution’ presents The John Steel Singers in one of their most accessible moods.  There’s a solid bassline, banjos and occasional reverbed guitar fills, served up with a choir of voices.  If that wasn’t enough to convey a certain kind of sunshine pop, there’s also a bit of brass thrown in for good measure.  With the bouncing, almost march-along nature of this number, a reasonable reference point for this would be Mercury Rev during one of their more throwaway experiments meeting Small Faces on one of their cockney walkabouts (or perhaps ‘Care of Cell 44’ by The Zombies, albeit with none of the sparkle which makes that tune so endearing).  If they were going for feel-good, they’ve had a good stab at it hit here; it’s worth remembering how difficult it is to convey this kind of mildly eccentric groove without venturing into annoying territory (which is something The John Steel Singers fall foul of elsewhere on the album, with a relative regularity).  Far more interesting – though still accessible – ‘Toes & Fingers’ uses lots of 60s influences during its opening verse.  A hushed vocal sits atop a slightly haunting arrangement of bass and piano, punctuated by simple glockenspiel notes. The vocal harmonies – although slightly dark – are spot on; and then, just as you think you know what’s in store for the rest of the number, the band change tack completely. Things then move into a more upbeat arrangement, driven by Dion Ford’s bass; a choir of vocals chip in, as the glockenspiel takes on a busier role – and it’s hard not to think of Norway’s Team Me.  As the vocals take a stap back, muted trumpets fill the space, while other passages are dominated by retro twanging guitars.  Being two or three musical ideas glued together, it shouldn’t work, yet somehow it does… It’s definitely the album’s stand-out track – and by some distance.

‘Cause of Self’ has a darker vibe, thanks to a great reverbed guitar part and unexpected piano accompaniment.  Vocally, the slightly hushed tones add to a relative unease, and upon first listen it’s impossible to second guess how the number will end.  While The John Steel Singers are clearly in experimental mode here, lots of the track’s subtler elements are crushed by a ringing rhythm guitar which drowns out half the track.  If the band wanted to unsettle their listeners, they’ve succeeded.  It’s a reasonable number in all, but one which would definitely have been better without the noisy guitars.  ‘Once I’ has an unavoidable 60s influence, but delivered with the band’s own style.  Here, over a four-four time signature which often sounds as if it’s desperately trying to break into something more interesting, there’s a selection of banjos, trombones and retro keyboards.  Its gentle air could have been soothing, but as with much of The John Steel Singers’ material, the idea it could break into an unknown quantity at any moment takes away any idea of comfort.  ‘You’ve Got Nothing To Be Proud Of’ showcases more sunny grooves – the electric pianos and upfront basses add nice flourishes throughout, while a multi-layered arrangement shows a great understanding of a band’s ability to really get the most out of their studio environment.  The music often much better here and, as such, the slightly discordant vocal can be overlooked – after all, being slightly out of tune never hurt Stephen Malkmus.

A slight Beach Boys vocal style permeates ‘Dying Tree’, a number with a very dark edge.  Plenty of reverb a plenty unsettles what could have easily been an otherwise easy to like sixties pastiche.  Looking beyond the reverb, though, there are some decent harmonies on show and an interesting – albeit sinister – musical base.  It’s not a number which stands out at first, but perseverance could uncover what is potentially one of ‘Tangalooma’s best offerings.

Beyond those numbers, this album is a mixed bag of potentially failed experiments.  With another marching beat, ‘Overpass’ should have been a bedfellow for ‘Evolution’, but the band take their Zombies-ish marching pace to extremes – almost to the point of absolute annoyance.  Yes, the bass line is solid and harmonies are fairly tight, but the end product is best described as grating.  The only respite comes from a couple of brief sections which hint at psychedelia, but these are duly stomped over by the rumpty-tumpty marching band.  Possessing a tune which rarely changes from its original three or four opening bars, ‘Rainbow Kraut’ – aside from having a really awful title – treads a fine line between trashy and mildly eccentric.  At first, the staccato guitar riff sounds like its building up to something more interesting, but it never goes anywhere. The mariachi horns provide a small amount of interest during the closing section, but no matter how good, these are really no substitute for a chorus (sadly missed).  Parts of this track sound like something the band found among Frank Black’s pile of rejects.  After a few plays, it sounds better than it did on first hearing, but then again, a few spins after that, it’s somewhat of an irritant once again – and barely recognisable as being the work of the same band capable of something as good as ‘Toes & Fingers’.  During the short acoustic number ‘Great Divided Self’ the band sound like they’ve stopped trying altogether. The vocals and guitar sound like a busker, which could be excused if the material was of a better quality, but sadly it sounds like something which was tossed off in ten minutes.

Despite their off-days, this band has something.  It’s not always obvious what that something is, but whatever it may be, it was enough to entice ex-Go Betweens man Robert Forster and Animal Collective’s Nicolas Vernhes on board this project (the pair take on producing and mixing duties respectively).  As such, the production is always great, even when the band’s material doesn’t quite work.    And when the material works, The John Steel Singers have a fair amount of potential. ‘Tangalooma’ presents a handful of attention-grabbing ideas; ‘Toes & Fingers’ in particular sounds like the work of a very interesting band.  If they could have been a little less reliant on marching beats and move farther towards the dark psychedelic elements they’d hinted at on a couple of tracks, it certainly would have been a step in a better direction.

October 2011

MUTINY MUTINY – Constellation

Formed in 2009, Seattle’s Mutiny Mutiny is an art-rock/post rock trio. For an independent release, the production values on their debut album ‘Constellation’ are fantastic, demonstrating a “live in the studio” vibe, which breathes a real sense of energy into the band’s material. The musical structures lean towards the angular and occasionally spawling (although any sprawling tendencies are often more muscular than the works of Slint – of which there is a strong influence throughout this release) and the musicians themselves are well-rounded, with all vocal duties shared. Each of these factors gives ‘Constellation’ a very strong foundation. Each of the eleven tracks show strength and while the band’s sound mightn’t be wholly original, when the material is as good as it often is here (and it is very good indeed), that doesn’t matter so much.

Opening the album is a number which showcases the band’s darkest edge. ‘A Movie Without a Plot’s grinding, oppressive nature borrows a little of its style from Slint, with a key difference that Mutiny Mutiny don’t drag it out over a prolonged duration. If you’re looking for a memorable hook you won’t find one here (not even hiding away, waiting to be discovered on subsequent listens); this is absolutely about maximum attitude and about Jenn Schmidt’s absolutely awesome Melvins-esque bassline, which never gets dull even though it is left to drive the piece with a relative bottom-end simplicity. A definite highlight, ‘Flight’ begins with another great bassline, before the band break a spiky, mid-paced riff, sounding somewhere between ‘Drums and Wires’ era XTC and the works of Robert Pollard. This is intercut with a slower section, with vocal contributions from all three band members. This recurs throughout, but never really sounds like a chorus; the whole piece has a disjointed feeling, yet somehow avoids incoherence.

‘Oil and Water’ is at a faster pace compared to most of the band’s material. A simpler arrangement is key here; when combined with a dual male/female vocal, the all round punchiness is extremely effective. The drumming is tight and the slightly discordant guitar parts have a absolutely fantastic tone. A mid section moves things away from Wedding Present/Fall territory and back towards more familiar Sonic Youth-isms. Naturally, this loses some of the energy and momentum, but even then, Schmidt’s bass sound remains awesome, so the shift isn’t entirely unwarranted. Another upbeat offering, ‘Close of Business’ has a fractured lyric regarding the everyday grind of office work, a one line refrain of “there will always…always be another one” is designed to stick in your head as quickly as possible. Musically, the track is rooted in the post-rock territory once again, this time with a touch of Wire in its delivery. The bass has clean tone and the guitars are at once sharp and distorted, which sounds quirky when used to back what’s often a spoken delivery, while Marc Mazique’s drums wind things up to wonderful levels of tautness.

The title cut alternates between Sonic Youth styled indie rock (featuring a naturalistic vocal from Jason Dean) and a drum-lead chorus, topped by more aggressive shouting. Both aspects work well for the band, especially when linked by slightly distorted guitar lines. There’s a sense this this was created by a welding together of a couple of unfinished ideas, but it works well enough. ‘The Damage Is Done’ brings one of the album’s best hooks, making great use of a repeated sung line pitched against couple of shouted lines; musically, it doesn’t offer much you haven’t heard Mutiny Mutiny deliver previously, but once again, the distorted guitar sounds and naturalistic approach are incredibly enjoyable.

‘Some Fresh Disaster’ begins with an over-driven jangle which,with its denser tone and more rhythmic style, sticks out more than Mutiny Mutiny’s denser approach. While this stays the course, the other elements within this number revert to the rather more typical. Before long Schmidt’s bass puts in a bigger presence and the structure of the music becomes more angular. Of greatest interest, though, is the song’s coda which captures the trio singing in a three-part harmony, as opposed to their preferred “singing over each other” approach. It’s one of the album’s most melodic moments, and the sound of those voices is just as welcome as the arty, grinding stuff.

In the first half of 2011, 90s alternative revivalists Yuck gained a truckload of press (and fairly, since the 90s alternative sound was definitely due a revival), but honestly, Mutiny Mutiny are far more interesting.  In summary, if you like Sonic Youth, Cay, Sleater-Kinney or Slint, you owe it to yourselves to seek out this band. Now.

October 2011

LOU REED & METALLICA – Lulu

When it was first announced that legendary metal band Metallica were to collaborate with the even more legendary Lou Reed on a studio project, eyebrows were raised.  Aside from both having a fairly uncompromising approach to music, neither artist had much in common: Reed, a consummate story-teller, has recorded a body of works which rely on the wordiness and on the small details, while Metallica occupy the other end of the scale, often being about the big and brash.  And yet, these strange bed-fellows embarked on a shared musical journey which, if Lou Reed is to be believed, would effectively end all musical journeys.  In a pre-release interview – amid a great amount of hype – Reed claimed the project spawned the best music he’d ever recorded. He went a step farther, suggesting ‘Lulu’ – the Loutallica album – was “maybe the best thing done by anyone, ever”.

Listening to the end product, let us assume this earlier remark was a great example of Reed’s dry wit.  ‘Lulu’, obviously, is not the best album in the world, set to eclipse every other work in history – how could it be?  In a few glimpses of (usually ragged) glory, however, this combination of world-class metal band and groundbreaking songwriter prove a force to be reckoned with.  Aside from those flashes of greatness, ‘Lulu’ is rather ugly and sometimes self-indulgent.   Even with Metallica’s sense of musical tightness, ‘Lulu’ is (mostly) not as tuneful is could have been…but that’s not to say there aren’t hidden gems within its sprawling ninety-plus minutes.

As ‘Brandenburg Gate’ begins, acoustic strumming (sounding a little like tuning up, it could be said) coupled with Reed’s instantly recognisable tones – it’s easy to cast your mind back to Reed’s late 80s/early 90s work.  This is particularly the case once he throws the listener in at the deep end lyrically, with the typically uncompromising sentiment “I could cut my arms and tits off when I think of Boris Karloff and Kinski, on the dark of the moon”.  Lou was never one to hold back lyrically and upon first hearing, this appears to be no exception.  Before long, Metallica join the arrangement with a heavy-ish, slow riff, over which Reed is forced to raise his voice.  Once he does so, his narrative delivery becomes less natural and his voice wobbles all over the place, barely hitting any right notes. With the music being such a dominant force, it’s not always so easy to hear his lyric and that’s a pity.  James Hetfield’s backing vocal is less forthright than many of his best performances and sounds hopelessly out of place against Reed.  Interestingly, even though the collective musicians have already gone to great lengths to persuade us this release does not sound like a Metallica album fronted by Reed, ‘Brandenburg Gate’ actually sounds halfway like you’d expect [unless, of course, you’re so ignorant of Reed’s career, you were dumb enough expect ‘Lulu’ to sound like ‘Satellite of Love’ and ‘Perfect Day’ beefed up with guitar riffs].

When samples of ‘The View’ appeared online some weeks before the album’s release, Metallica fans took to the discussion boards, asking if – and in some cases, hoping – those samples weren’t the real deal.  They hoped the sounds they were hearing were leaked for a joke, Ben Folds style.  It was not a joke; clearly most of ’em just don’t “get” Lou.  And although it was almost universally disliked by Metallica’s fan-base, ‘The View’ is actually far better than ‘Brandenburg’s Gate’.  For starters, Reed sounds more comfortable when he doesn’t have to complete with Hetfield’s growl.  The approach taken here, whereby Reed sings verses and Hetfield takes on chorus duties, is an effective one.  What’s more, the dark side of Reed’s song writing is given a whole new dimension when backed by Metallica’s hard-rock/metal approach.  With the aid of a slow, pounding riff which sounds like ’Tallica taking on a Black Sabbath classic, it’s so much easier to feel threatened by Reed when he starts insisting he is “the aggressor”.  Tales of suicide are nothing new in Reed’s work, but here, the topic takes on a much darker mantle.  Undoubtedly, the more small-minded among Metallica’s fan base will prefer it once Reed is quiet; if so, they at least should get some enjoyment during the number’s coda: the music speeds up a little – in keeping with “classic” Metallica – and Kirk Hammett takes centre stage for a reasonable solo.   It may have been panned, but ‘The View’ is actually one of ‘Lulu’s better offerings.

With ‘The View’ upping the ante a tad in terms of listening pleasure, things slacken off with ‘Pumping Blood’, with an uncompromising approach, that’s far too intense.  Following some grinding strings, Reed repeats the words “pumping blood” several times over a huge riff which fits somewhere between a march and a chug. His voice is atonal, and he sounds less natural; with the arrival of more lyrics, things really don’t improve much, since Reed sounds unsettled, perhaps way outside his comfort zone; it could even be said he sounds as if he’s free forming.  The only parts of this track which really work are the quiet atmospheric moments when the down-tuned riffs take a back-seat, and Lou takes a more typical approach to his work.  The rumbling bass lines, with drums and guitar vibrato/feedback set a great tone– providing a decent atmosphere for Lou’s almost spoken delivery.  Reed’s lyrics are slightly disturbing though, dealing with stabbings and prostitution – and even an unsubtle reference to inter-racial blow-jobs.  Over seven and a half minutes, the intensity of the music – and especially Reed’s lyric – becomes a listening endurance, but among the turmoil, those quieter parts aren’t completely void of charm.

The most striking thing about ‘Mistress Dread’ is it’s brutal riff.  On this number, Metallica play faster and harder than they have since their youth, tackling something which is cut from similar cloth to ‘Fight Fire With Fire’ (though obviously not as good).  Given such an intense musical backdrop, Reed should have been more in the zone than he ever is. His vocal, an absolute mismatch… wailing and crooning like a drunken old man; he has no regard for the pace or style of the music – just carelessly throwing out vocal lines whenever he sees fit.  Speaking the words of the album’s abused heroine, Reed utters lines such as “put a bloody gag to my teeth, I want you to degrade me”, which are  potentially shocking, even by Reed’s previous standards – but fact is, most of the lyrics are hard to decipher due to Reed’s woeful, woeful performance.  If his cover of ‘Peggy Sue’ represented a career nadir, then this must come pretty close.  Unlike ‘Pumping Blood’ this track can’t even create a perverse sense of pleasure.   If Metallica had any sense, they’d ask for their riff back and reuse it on something better.

If not for another monster riff, everything about ‘Iced Honey’ would sound like a Lou Reed solo outing.  Reed makes a better attempted at stretching his vocal – although still never quite manages anything resembling actual singing – and the arrangement is pleasantly upbeat.  While not as interesting as some of the other works scattered around the album, this is certainly a welcome distraction.  It’s important to have a reprieve from the ugly, darker elements on offer, and ‘Iced Honey’ brings a little lightness to the otherwise leaden album.  It’s perkier nature helps wash away the foul aftertaste left by ‘Mistress Dread’.  Although one of ‘Lulu’s most accessible numbers, there’s still ample room for improvement: for starters, it could do without Hetfield’s backing vocal, which is mildly distracting with its “recorded live to tape” looseness.  While such an approach is normal for Mr Reed, coming from Hetfield it just sounds like a rough demo take.  The hugely atmospheric ‘Little Dog’ is one of ‘Lulu’s most minimalist offerings.  Taking a spacious bluesy tone, Reed speaks over guitar reverb and acoustic riffs which sound like the roots a film score.  Stark and almost ambling in nature, the piece has a great musical emptiness. It’s especially fitting for Reed’s cold tone as he takes on the role of failure and weakness – the dog an unsubtle metaphor somebody easily dominated.  While the number shows Reed in a far more natural setting, Metallica’s contribution is practically non-existent – Reed could, in fact, have recorded the number prior to these sessions with a pick up band; most of the listening audience would be none the wiser.

‘Cheat on Me’ has an extended intro featuring string sounds and what sounds like electronic experimentation; it teases the listener by suggesting it’ll build to something grand.  In reality, that intro offers three-and-a-half minutes’ worth of directionless twaddle, followed by another minutes’ worth of the same twaddle accompanied by Reed repeating the line “why do I cheat on me?”  It could be said that Rob Trujillo’s bass noodlings have a pleasing warm sound, but that’s no reason for this style wanton self-indulgence (whether the band think of ‘Lulu’ as art or not). From this point on, Lars Ulrich marks a simple beat, while Hammett and Hetfield play staccato riffs.  Reed’s vocal improves a little once he makes it into the real meat of the number, but this is weakened by Hetfield’s occasional counter vocal which takes up the “cheat on me” line which even Reed eventually gave up on.  In truth, this number is bad – eleven and a half minutes of bad in all, none of which offer anything remotely interesting.  Metallica fans may welcome Hetfield’s presence back at the mic, but honestly, it’s a terrible performance.  It’s nowhere near as excruciating as ‘Mistress Dread’, though – it’s just overlong and serves no real point.  ‘Frustration’ is better, thanks to Metallica delivering the goods, riff-wise.  Lou winds up the tension lyrically, his voice spouting words which sound like an open letter.  If the track used this technique constantly it could have been superb, but it’s let down by huge sections of vaguely avant-garde material; for these Reed rants over a squealing string noise, or over Ulrich’s drums, which are bashed with an improvisational quality.  The ranting may be effective when given gravitas by Metallica’s full-on chug, but without, it’s ugly and directionless (or ‘artistic’, depending on your viewpoint; either way, best avoided).  The fast riff at the end helps create goodwill, but it’s really not enough – especially when you consider Metallica could have taken this route more often.

‘Dragon’ is incredibly difficult at first.  Reed shouts over various ugly guitar effects and even uglier clanging chords for almost three minutes.  With the arrival of Metallica, however, it turns on its head.  The riff is fantastic: like something the band would have recorded back in their ‘…And Justice For All’ days (with added bass, naturally).  The relatively straight-ahead chug represents almost everything you’ve ever loved about Metallica.  Even the angular, tortured lead guitar lines – presumably Reed’s musical contribution – don’t even diminish such a monolithic riff.  Reed’s vocal could have sounded a little out of step, but he’s actually given it more thought than before; shouting and speaking his lines in an bitter, angry manner which fits the music reasonably well.  Skip past the torturous intro and this quickly becomes another of ‘Lulu’s most rewarding listens.

After a brief droning intro, ‘Junior Dad’ settles into a groove which would befit many of Metallica’s ballads, potentially their most commercial music since ‘Nothing Else Matters’ back in 1991. The lyrics are said to have made members of Metallica cry, but none of Reed’s words here are anywhere near as touching as the thoughtful musical arrangement they have been given.  James’s rhythm guitar work adopts an absolutely gorgeous clean tone, while Lars’s drumming has a solid, yet far subtler tone than usual.  Six minutes in, the drones reappear – with Reed wailing over the top for a minute or so – and, naturally, this loses the momentum.  When Metallica are eventually allowed to re-find themselves a couple of minutes after the wailing, they pick up where they left off:  even by the time they decide to take the already great arrangement and beef it up, it honestly loses none of its power.  At ten minutes in, the tune vanishes completely and the orchestra – which had previously provided those intermittent drones – takes centre stage…to do nothing special; in fact, that orchestra does almost nothing at all!  The best part of the next ten minutes is best described as ambient orchestral minimalism.  Metallica should have been allowed to fill that time with variants on their brilliantly arranged, rather understated tune.  There’s a fantastic six minute edit of this almost twenty minute epic just begging to be made.  To say this track allows the listener to forgive ‘Lulu’s previous wrongs would be a huge stretch, but by the time Metallica hit their stride here, the ugliness of Loutallica’s previous musical mistakes at least begins to fade.

So, who exactly is this album’s target audience?  It’s far too “Metallica” for most of Lou’s fan-base, while the presence of Reed is enough to leave most metal fans cold.  For those open minded enough to actually like both Metallica and Lou Reed – and yes, such people do exist – it’s probably fair to say ‘Lulu’s complexities straddle a fine line between interesting and bewildering (while taking in various excursions via frustrating and appalling).  It’s funny: even though ‘Lulu’ has a fair amount of unlistenable qualities, it’s still not quite either party’s worst work.  Among hugely acclaimed albums, Reed has recorded some utter cack over the years, stuff that’s potentially less interesting than this; also, very little on ‘Lulu’ reaches the “recorded in a shed using a biscuit tin for a drum kit” awfulness of Metallica’s ‘St. Anger’.  At least the end sound of ‘Lulu’ has some uniqueness, a certain presence and a sense of pushing the odd boundary.

Many of you will hate ‘Lulu’, while some may be intrigued by its twisted darkness and Reed’s uncompromising, somewhat perverse style.  However, it’s hard to imagine anybody sane believing most of this to be among either Reed or Metallica’s best works, or actually wanting to listen to ‘Lulu’ very often.  Regardless of the ugly intensity which makes its mark on most of this release, it’s fair to say, both artistic parties should be commended on trying to break new ground so far into their combined careers – even if, at times, that equates to minimal listening pleasure.

October 2011

LONE STAR – Firing On All Six

Not to be confused with the US country pop band of the same name, Lone Star are one of the best kept secrets of British rock. That said, their beginnings are not so great: their eponymous debut is an okay 70s rock offering, but few of the songs stretch the bands talents. It’s only really notable for being produced by Roy Thomas Baker (most well known for his work with Queen and The Cars) and featuring an extended workout of The Beatles’ ‘She Said, She Said’. Very few people would consider it an essential album. By the time of their second release – 1977’s ‘Firing On All Six’ – original vocalist Kenny Driscoll had been replaced by John Sloman and the end result is a marked improvement. Not just for the arrival of an obviously superior vocalist, but for the technical aspects of the release – in terms of production, albums rarely come better sounding than this.

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