No Big Shock...Motorhead's "Aftershock" Is a Metal Masterpiece

"Aftershock" is Motorhead's 21st studio album. Digest that tidbit for a second. Twenty-one albums. Music trends come, go, then resurface in the spirit of what's old is new again so for any band in any genre to be able to say it's put out 21 albums is nothing short of miraculous. What much less surprising is that "Aftershock" lacks one solitary dud track. "Heartbreaker" has all the power riff goodness guaranteed to whisk you back to their '80s days and then cause you to do a double take, asking yourself, "Hey wait a minute! There's no real difference between then and now. As usual Lemmy abrasive chops screech with all those hard days on the road that he's accumulated over the course of a career that to say it's been an enviable run is about as well duh as claiming the sky's blue (storm cloud days notwithstanding) and the grass is green (Texas may get a pass during summer months because the color of grass, at least where suburban lawns are concerned, is more likely to be brown). "Coup de Grace" channels brute metal strength. This is definitely an example of a track that makes one think of the '80s metal days. Lest we forget the band can get bluesy with the best of 'em, "Lost Woman Blues" is your open and shut case. The song comports itself with a definitive strut. It knows it's got the best grind of any of the metal pretenders in the room. Why be afraid to flaunt what's an ample gift, right? "End of Time" goes into all out ear assault mode from the onset. Props of course go out to Phil Campbell for the unapologetic barrage of guitar wizardry. If Lemmy's the stone that does make Phil the undisputed sorcerer. Speak of Lemmy he's not shy about getting excited over his belief in the power of rock 'n' roll. The potent "Do You Believe" is pretty gleeful, if Lemmy does in fact have that giddy emotion in his psychological bag of tricks. I praise him for being a no bullshit kind of guy. In a world where much supposedly adult discourse is ladled with enough bullshit to successfully sink the Titanic, it's a breath of alcohol-enabled fresh air to hear Lemmy tell it like it is. You know something? I see why Lemmy is an easily acquired taste. Getting someone to be straight with you is some impressive gift. "Dust And Glass' produces a quintessentially metal line. Being that metal has never exactly been one to steer clear of dark corners who out there could possibly be shocked to hear Lemmy to claim we're born in pain, end in grief. How uncompromising can you get. Mikkey Dee lets it rip from every conceivable angle of his drum kit. Although he's not the original skins basher his prowess could easily convinced newbies and vets alike that's he's been with them since the dawn of Time. "Aftershock" won't allow you to get complacent about what you're digesting. It's as if they're insisting, "Today's music is too half-arssed! Let's show today's young ones what true artistry is really all about!!" Lemmy doesn't know how to cut a toothless record. The result is a victory for anyone who needs to let off more than a slight bit of steam after an exhausting work day, argument with the wife and/or kids, you name it...Get set to tingle with fiendish delight. "Aftershock" is primed to buckle your knees, rearrange your brain cells and, if a few dishes fall to the floor with a penetrating crash, that's the added bonus telling you the masters were hard at work. No bones about it...this is a masterpiece of epic proportion.

Red Fang More Bark Than Bite

Hailing from Portland, Oregon, Red Fang does prove itself capable in the musicianship category. Numerous moments throughout the new "Whales and Leeches" album feature drummer John Sherman uncork a barrage of beats certain to have the metalheads in the listening audience going air guitar crazy and flashing those devil horns as if the secret to eternal life was found therein. Not all news is good though. I'd like to single out "No Hope" as a track with a refrain high on the redundancy meter. So in a way Bryan Giles leaves me hopeless going on ad nauseum in saying "hope". There's not even a hint of real menace to it. Sometimes that's what's really wrong with this effort. When the four of them get on the same page, as is true for the likes of "DOEN" and "Dawn Rising" the results turn into some very complex metal. Stoner metal is the sub-genre Red Fang falls under. In other words this is the kind of material you want cranked up if you're wasted or giving it some serious thought. At other times, say, during the chorus portion of "This Animal" David Sullivan's guitar is stuck in the craw discordant. I realize metal music falls smack in the category of shock and awe. They're not trying to send you off to bed with a reassured smile on your face. These purveyors of uneasiness want you to squirm. "This Animal" only does so because its moving parts don't seem destined for anything more than a disfiguring crash, victims of the haphazard way they were pasted together. You can find comfort in the fact the classic metal storylines pop up in one form or another. Death commands a place at the table as does the imagery of a wasted angel whose halo is broken. In a profound way an angel with a broken halo aptly sums up all of us chuckleheads. I found the reference to taking back one's skin, a concept illuminated in "Crows Before The Swine" to be resoundingly effective. That's where the angel adornments came from too. Some angels fly back to heaven easier than others I guess. "Behind The Light" bears the undeniable weight of hollowed out resignation. "Whales and Leeches" is somewhat similar to a football team's inconsistent field performance. Some of the time it employs all its instrumental weapons, and at others locks in on phone it in status. To be sure there are overtures to vivid artistry but they threaten to crater into monotony territory way too much to be useful for anything other than a one off listener experience. Aaron Beam's bass is a prime reason why I declare "This Animal" jagged at best, disappointingly clumsy at worst. I mean no ill will towards the people of Portland. Au contraire, my visit to that fair city was delightful and highly recommended to anyone wanting to visit a portion of the country long on basic polite. Nevertheless I, in good conscience, can't raise Red Fang's new undertaking up to the level of scintillating art. Too many of the wrong ingredients combine to create a soup that suffers from the presence of a nagging aftertaste.

American Authors Fail To Come Up With The Best Example of Originality

One eye-catcher I return to again and again when testing the waters for great new music is the name of the band. South by Southwest is a literal carnival of traveling minstrels who could only have come up with their names while inhaling liquid paper or rubber cement. Brooklyn band American Authors is to be praised for passing that test. A great band name doesn't have to be overly demonstrative to be appealing in some way. "Best Day Of My Life" isn't a loathsome song. In fact if you're in the mood for something unapologetically peppy you've come to the right place. What's a little disheartening is how the chord adhered to in the song sounds exactly like that of Imagine Dragons' "It's Time". At this point what I know about American Authors could fill a thimble but I suspect having a single out on the market that is too similar to the rhythms of another contemporary band won't do their long term success prognosis any favors. That's too bad because zippy never goes out of style. There's something soothingly old fashioned about the strumming of a banjo. On the merits of that alone James Adam Shelley is doing a definite service to society. Zachary Bennett keeps the feel good sentiments rolling along with such pleasantries as: "I had a dream so big and loud. I jumped so high and touched the clouds." Isn't that a welcome relief from the Advil headache caused by your employer, your wife, your kids, or a combination of all three? This kind of lyric is the stuff happy places are made of. Zach's vocals certainly do get high marks for friendliness. You're convinced the clouds are withing reach for you since he's apparently found a way to access them. His eyes are on the future. Not a single regret in sight. Whatever state of bliss he's in he's a hero with rooting value. All he asks is that no one wake him from the incredible dream he's having. Who can blame him for that request especially since I could count on one hand the number of people for whom this fantasy comes anywhere close to reality. Although hard pressed to keep up with the pace James and Zach have set, drummer Matt Sanchez proves equal to the task. He's in a nice little zone that is difficult to shake. The longer it lasts, the easier it becomes to be impressed with him. Dave Rublin assures the vitality level will be maintained on bass. Maybe I'm jumping the gun too soon by wagging a finger at them for evoking an Imagine Dragons comparison. In truth Imagine Dragons comes at you with more of everything including the kitchen sink mindset. At least during this go round American Authors is content not to insist on so much complexity. Let's just say the canvas is waiting for this band to paint some altogether original color onto it. "Best Day Of My Life" is an agreeable starting point. Let's hope that's not where the story ends.

Paul McCartney's "New" Excites With Glorious Shades of Old

Make no mistake about it. If it's possible to age gracefully in the music industry, 71 year-old Paul McCartney has gifted us with a textbook example of how it ought to be done. He has the point in his favor that, even though it's not Beatlemania era anymore, he smartly weaves the wonderful language from that time in his collection simply called "New". Laugh all you want at an elder statesman trying to push that adjective past us, but he does manage to live up to that title. "On My Way To Work" is a picture book of bustling activity that rings true with all of us doing the one foot in front of the other, soldier marching to his cubicle routine (I know whereof I speak). Even in his more pensive moments, such as the closing chapter "Scared" it's very hard to think Sir Paul has run out of batteries. Bonus points to the piano player who has fully brought out the palpable fear of saying "I love you". If one were to envision Paul in studio bringing these words to life you might see his eyes frozen in terror as the words come out. Take any picture of fear you want in this case. You'll get the awe inspired brand of goosebumps listening to the track. The astute thing to do in making a video (yes, they still have those) would be to have Paul flanked on either side by smoke rising from a machine, strong, pure white light illuminating both he and his social misgivings. He plays the love game at other points such as "Turned Out". This cut is a showcase for the charm that was quite the match igniting Beatlemania. He was the ladies off their feet time then and, despite Father Time's intrusion, still gets their motors running today. "I Can Bet" demonstrates Paul channeling energy that would leave his contemporaries in awe. You honestly do a double take when you realize this man hasn't lost his vitality by a long shot. So long as the passion isn't faked I say good for him. "Road" is a million miles from the '60s. He's to be commended for hooking with a decidedly techno savvy team of note players. Daft Punk doesn't look like such an odd chart mate for him. It also signifies that, if Cher is the female musical chameleon, Sir Paul is her male equal. Try not to adopt the same facial expression you might give to a too cute puppy dog when sampling "Turned Out". In Paul's hands a declaration on the wonder of a good, strong love doesn't sound corny. "Get Me Out of Here" finds Paul having a little fun with his all-consuming celebrity. He could teach a master class on the mercilessness of the paparazzi. As an opening track "Save Us" is brilliant because not only does it usher us into Paul's continued ability to flat out rock, it fools us into thinking this is the only hat he'll be wearing. The Beatles were innovative with a capital "I". Paul hasn't lost his way with a song that reminds us that, where he's concerned, they really don't make 'em like that anymore. "New" blends roots based craftsmanship with an fearlessness for going forward. We're sort of united on being tentative around the unknown future. With Paul as our guide, being hopeful isn't dismissed as some juvenile mistake. He's a treasure who still symbolizes artistic cause for celebration. Prepare for a dizzying excursion minus the migraines dizziness conveys.

Spend Some "Alone" Time With Fall Out Boy

Nice to hear Fall Out Boy going old school on us all (if that's even an OK label for a band that's only been around for 12 years, toddler status in the industry). "Alone Together" currently rides on Billboard's Rock Singles chart. It has the sense of tight focus that was pretty evident when the guys uncorked "Sugar, We're Goin' Down". The speed is juiced enough that you need to follow them closely or they'll lose you at the next traffic light. By the same token you won't get any of the whiplash possible from "Thanks For The Mmrs". Getting nostalgic now? That puppy had a real death wish going. I very much appreciate how Fall Out Boy combines raw raucousness with crackling instrument playing and jocular vocals. Patrick Stump issues a direct call to the audience for not being lonely yet alone at the same time. Not only that he brings with him that very familiar temptation to stay young forever. This band has always struck me as an embraceable bunch of lugs who approach their craft with a tongue-in-cheek spirit that makes me think they have mastered the art of not taking themselves too seriously. Maybe it's the not too subtle charm of youth shining through. Beats me. In any case, Fall Out Boy continues to corner the market on their unique niche by marching straight ahead. The drums are sure of themselves at all times. All the credit goes to Andy Hurley who comports himself with all the power of someone who's been at his shtick for far longer that a decade and change. He's the embodiment of all that snap that lifts records like "Save Rock and Roll off shelves or plants them directly to iPods. Pete Wenz is his usual sterling self on bass. Patrick manages to bring his top form with guitar, too. No problem with planting the idea in our heads that feeling beautiful is a nifty way to feel. If I were to describe the overall momentum build on "Alone Together" I'd have to conclude it's one of those all access neighborhood parades that your friends will be talking about for weeks and will rip you to pieces on Facebook for not being a part. Deep thought has its place in music but so does reach for the stars electricity presented for the sake of reminding true blue music fans and casual listeners that it is in fact still possible. With "Alone Together" as part of this mix, rock 'n' roll doesn't, in any way, shape, or form, need saving.

Not Your Ordinary Mash Up

The countdown continues to Halloween 2013. In the here and now it happens to be Monster Mash Day. As part of it why not let's sidle on up to "Monster Mash", a classic frightfully fun Hallow hit. Bobby "Boris" Pickett and The Crypt-Kickers handed us this ghoulish gem in 1962 where it became a #1 Billboard smash. So when Bobby says "It was a graveyard smash" you know he means it. All the trappings of a clever novelty item are present. You've got a bubbling potion sound along with a very hyper creature itching to let loose from his chains. The delivery's the thing. Bobby presentation couldn't be any more like song in the key (and mood)of zombie. If you wanted to get technical about it you might say this "song" cops more of a rap vibe. After all he's not exactly making anyone think of a polished artist of yore such as Frank Sinatra or Mel Torme. He sounds as stripped clean of a pulse as you'd want. The piano playing says "groovy" which signifies that it was groovy before it became a common '70s description of anything at the corner of "neat" and "smoking". The drumming snaps to attention during the chorus but politely taps out an ambient pleasing noise much of the rest of the time. Frankly, you don't have to pull the shades down out of revulsion your neighbors would find you throwing yourself into something your parents liked back then. There's nothing wrong with camp value. "Monster Mash" caught on so devilishly that almost 11 years after it first topped Billboard it found its way back to #10. The '70s was the decade of The Rocky Horror Picture Show, which contains the undeniably catchy "Time Warp". But, corralling this conversation and sending back down dead end highway, "Monster Mash" is an engaging party starter for any one of a number of parties featuring skull candles. The usual suspect list of graveyard menaces is accounted for. Ghouls, zombies, Dracula and progeny, etc...For me this is one of a handful of Halloween themed songs that holds up to repeated listening. Besides which would you have known it started out its life as "Transylvania Twist" hadn't flipped his coffin lid to tell you? Even on holidays you learn something new.

Panic! At The Disco's Newest Offering Proves How Good It Is To Be Weird

Panic! At The Disco stems from Las Vegas, home to miles of get rich quick gambling casinos, buffets, and the to be expected stretch of desert landscape. This outfit's new collection "Too Weird To Live - Too Rare To Die!" pours on numerous shades of appetizing high energy reviews that run the gamut from showman (the album rock winner "Miss Jackson) to slicing right to the root of the matter ("Nicotine") to party shuffler ("Vegas Lights). Shifting focus to the overall level of spark given off, Brendon Urie shoots his vocals right back to the cheap seats of whatever auditorium, community center, venerable arena, or intimate shed you want to put him in. Nowhere is this more obvious than on "Nicotine" where he makes his break with a girl who, quite frankly doesn't sound like she'd be good for anybody's physical or mental health. He's crucifying her as being as bad for him as that certain element of cigarette smoking. There's nothing but razor blade hard ass edge permeating all over the track. If you fall into the camp of people who've grown addicted to Brendon's flair for the dramatic you'll be sleeping well tonight. He lets fly as if the oxygen were slowly but surely draining out of him. "Vegas Lights" deserves kudos because it opens with a segment from the classic days of Sesame Street. To anyone not around in 1969 when this legendary program hit the airwaves, all I can say is just humor a sentimental codger like me while I explain to you where the bit originated from. There was an old segment of counting exercises that concluded with a hapless baker tumbling down a set of front steps, invariably dropping the decadent treat he was carrying after singing out the number of said goodies he was carrying. The opening to "Vegas Lights" starts with the self same 1-10 counting sequence as was shown then. What Sesame Street has to do with Vegas other than the notion that both locales are very colorful and, in certain instances, highly revealing of the person(s) responsible for creating them I have no idea. Anyway it's a novel way to kickstart a rock-inflected party pleaser that succeeds in winning over both the crowd that wants true blue Panic! At The Disco emo power playing and the crowd that wants to party into the wee hours or until it passes out from exhaustion, whichever comes first. Spencer Smith's drums sound souped up. They're ready to embrace the carefree mood permeating all gathered for this celebration. During "Nicotine" Spencer gives no quarter. If his upper lip was any stiffer it would freeze up that way. Many times the guys zip me back to the '80s with its abundance of keyboard fills. This tendency pays off in the case of "Girl That You Love". Playing catch me if you can with Brendon's unyieldingly dramatic vocal power the keyboards take a little of the sting off so listeners can rest easy knowing this is the Panic! At The Disco they've come to appreciate, tolerate, or syncopate with since its inception in 2004. As a poetry writer I appreciate the untamed power of short bursts of energy that my medium has to offer. Still, "Far Too Young To Die" and "The End Of All Things" could've been left on the cutting room floor and nobody would've felt put out, hurt, cheated, or inclined to carry a grudge. The former track is unapologetic in the message it tries to convey but it's a path that's been worn down so many times you wonder how weary travelers can even make out the road anymore. The latter track is artfully assembled but if it was any more depressing we'd have to bring the suicide prevention hotline people in to help keep people from jumping off bridges right and left. Good for keeping the population controlled and I guess the funeral parlor industry would be high-fiving its brethren left and right but Jeez Louise...what a way to close what had been a record with a pretty admirable pulse running through it. Despite this brand of complaint, "Too Weird To Live - Too Rare To Die!" wears its weirdness proudly, like a king or queen wears regal robes. Dallon Weekes finds the ideal range for his synthesizer. As for his bass playing it fits right in with the Las Vegas stage ethos, smoke rings wafting through the air, the hard to shake din of gamblers trying to plink their way to the golden ticket. These guys don't know how to cut a simple, no frills record. Beside which why would you want them to? They give their audience their all and then some. This go round it shows time and again.

James Blunt's New "Fire" Ingratiatingly Warm

For openers I'd like to say to anyone for whom James Blunt's "You're Beautiful" is a million times more annoying than either a dentist's drill or a buzzing mosquito you're in luck..."Bonfire Heart" the first single off of the forthcoming "Moon Landing" release comes nowhere near provoking anyone to yank their iPods out of their ears and squash them to bits. For a fact it's a song that generously pours on the warmth. Think of the comfort food item or home-cooked meal that Mom used to make back in the day and you've got the right picture in mind. The drumming in place here has a suitably militant bent to it that plays into the whole "love as strong as a marching soldier" dynamic. It just so happens that Mr. Blunt represented the United Kingdom from 1996-2002 as a Captain in the Army. Not sure whether that aspect of his life was knowingly woven into the song or not but one could be forgiven for suspecting his experiences there flavored what he wanted to do with the song going into the studio. James is to be commended for infusing "Bonfire Heart" with the necessary hooks and unshakable chorus necessary to give it a healthy shot of success, at least where adult contemporary leaning music programmers are concerned. Verse two isn't exactly prime material if you're trying hard to stave off depression in some way, shape or form. For James the world is getting colder (Who's to say he doesn't have a point?). There's a marked lack of shoulders to cry on, or to turn to for an emotional lift. All the more reason why the love of a good woman is a valuable port in the storm. He claims that all he and his ladylove need are the spark to start in their bonfire hearts. So you could say James is a proponent of a romantically minimalist lifestyle. Hey whatever works, right? Returning now to the warmth I claim is present here. Any of you like your man/woman to give you a stress-busting deep tissue massage? James's acoustic guitar, if you succumb to it long enough could prove to be just as rewarding and without those costly medical bills that a first rate chiropractor (that's Plan B if the hubby/wifey's hands aren't pure magic) is sure to cost you. "You're Beautiful" started out with the line "My life is brilliant". So right there I can understand why the women in the listening audience might have disliked that song when it first hit radio. Who wants to have kids with a man who already thinks he's all that, a bag of chips, a cold beer, and a Milk Bone chomping pooch? "Bonfire Heart" is direct. It's also a little bit more modest. These are two qualities that score higher on the compatibility scale...that is unless both sides of the partnership are alpha dogs. However this is all digression progression isn't it? "Bonfire Heart" burns bright. That signals fantastic news whether you're a Blunt backer or somebody from the casual listener spectrum who happened upon a nifty tune and now treats his/her good fortune as one might the capture of a lucky penny (in this economy better make that $100 bill). Have fun staring into your lover's eyes longingly while this plays in the background. Chardonnay is optional but possibly not required.

Jack Johnson's "From Here To Now To You" Falls Victim To A Short Attention Span Complex

First impressions count for a lot in this world. Job interviews are a prime example. If possible you want to give a potential employer every reason to want to hire you, to decide that out of the overwhelming mound of potential candidates he or she has lined up to interview, that you're the one who's best prepared to deliver the goods. First dates also qualify. If you had a tendency as a child to pick boogers, a first date is not the time or place for a childhood regression. It's no different in the world of music. In an age when you can pretty much select your own playlist and therefore bypass having to waste time on crappy filler material from long play CDs you've got to know instinctively how to both grab and maintain audience attention. The first track off of folk singer Jack Johnson's "From Here To Now To You" seems to get the message at first. The whistling that goes on says "This is a nice, lazy day. Let's sit on the porch and drink pink lemonade on the porch swing." Here the percussion isn't in any more of a hurry. Waxing profound on the joys of the moment takes center stage. In other words there's plenty of "I can relate to this" content to spread around here. If you crave tranquility Jack's prepared to feed your need. "Home" is a sweet follow-up. The outdoorsy charm breaks down any compunction to huddle up in your bungalow and miss the perpetual beauty on display all around you. The intimate sunny vibes that the likes of John Denver staked his reputation on receive excellent resuscitation from what I sense has been too much time languishing in mothballs. Regrettably John's combo of deep thought and easygoing melodies tends to start losing its luster over tracks 3 and 4 ("Change" and "Ones and Zeroes" respectively). The former does hit home with the undeniable truth that change is "a punchline on all of us". Of course it could also be said that joke is higher on the cruelty scale for some than others. Prime genetics anyone? "Radiate" reinvigorates this collection by giving in to exceedingly chipper harmonies. Treading the fine line between massive introspection and taking comfort from "Que sera sera". is surely no small balancing act. Jack falls off the wire more than once. "Tape Deck" is another example where allowing the vibes to remain upbeat stands Jack in good stead. Any emotion, if overdone, can prove tiresome not only to the listening ear, but to the person with the supposedly insurmountable burden as well. We all run the risk of too much navel gazing by the time Jack comes around to "Tape Deck" which excels at plain old goofing around. His makeshift way back machine, so far as lyrics are concerned, runs like a dream. "Shot Reverse Shot" plays like too much of a music insider's joke, the shots making reference to camera angles for performers perched in their chosen element. Why the abrupt message shift was deemed necessary is likely known only to the label, the producer(s), and Jack himself. Whatever the justification it really doesn't have the universal campfire connect of classic songcraft. Even though I don't regard myself as having a limited attention span (in fact I see that trait as a act of defiance in a world where the love affair we as a culture have with technology borders on the obscene) I would not be doing you a service as a reviewer if I didn't confess you might veer towards a state of somnambulism with this record. "You Remind Me Of You" reminds me of the sort of material a new father might serenade his progeny with. Is that a bad thing? Not really. People who don't cotton to syrupy sentiment may run from the listening area screaming though. That brand of music might have worked perfectly when Jack contributed "Upside Down" to the Curious George soundtrack, but it's corny to a fault in this environment. "From Here To Now To You" has the makings of a fine record. Trouble is there are far more valleys than peaks to justify why anyone would want to expose themselves to the prospect of repeated listening.

Nelly Reaches For Several Stars and Pulls Down a Winner With "M.O."

Nelly hasn't shown any tarnish with his new "M.O." project. His persona's versatility is buoyed by a who's who of guest stars. He can play the dew-eyed romantic. He can street party with the best of them. He can be as true to his urban background as anyone in the game today. What wins me over in a big way is Nelly Furtado's vow to drown out the world with her headphones. Nelly narrates the raw clinging to a shard of hope that represents the cold reality for many urban youths. There is a soft spot to be gleaned in his chest. "Maryland, Massachusetts" brings with it a captivating darkness. "Shake Whatever" basks in a wonderful celebratory playfulness. The awesome force that is T.I. emerges to drop some sublime science on both "Rick James" and "IDGAF". I made reference to a galaxy of guest stars earlier. A brighter constellation of rap luminaries you'll be hard pressed to find. Florida Georgia Line brings a dose of country to the crib. Trey Songz busts out on "All Around The World". 2 Chainz comes to represent with "100K". Pharrell Williams is part of the roll call for both the opening "Get Like Me" and the above "IDGAF". Future's "Give U Dat" exhilirates in its capacity as a prime sensory experience. Daley is in fine form throughout "Heaven". Fabolous & Wiz Khalifa sprinkle their talents across "My Chick Better". Upon listening I've concluded this isn't a case of too many cooks spoiling the broth. Each guest injects noteworthy vigor into his star turn. Nelly should be commended for not skimping on the tools he uses to assure mass appeal.

Whitesnake's "Night" Creature a Singularly Ghoulish Delight

It's true. "Still of the Night" from Whitesnake is my all time favorite rock song. I always will have a soft spot for the hard rock/heavy metal era which grunge pushed into a coffin and promptly sealed the lid on. It sends all the right shivers down my spine. There's a gigantic, menacing wall of guitars that plunges downward relentlessly. David Coverdale who, after all these years, remains the one constant in the band lineup, oozes bad boy charisma. He's a beast on the prowl who won't be stopped until he has the object of his sexual desires wrapped up in his arms. Tommy Aldridge astounds me with the way his drums batter, pummel, smack, mutilate, and essentially stun with their viciousness. I recommend if you've never heard this throbbing slab of heavy metal excellence go for the extended play version. The edited single version I owned at first snips away at the climactic segments of the song, and that's a crime no jury should ever allow to let go unpunished. The bridge is particularly steamy. Tommy's thunderbolts are pulled back to a quiet little series of taps on the shoulder. David has hit a pinnacle in his demonic tone of voice. Even when the bridge is apparently finished that merely leads down a long corridor where guitar is turned into an orchestral bass. David is never far behind with his putting orgasm on vinyl approach. "Ooh baby!! oooh! AAAAAH!!" Cue the drums once more. John Sykes, Adrian Vandenberg, and Rudy Sarzo align forces for what's a fret equivalent to gathering clouds about to uncork a mighty storm over the land. The alto guitar that ushers us back the series of notes the song started out with is, as Jack Black might put it, face melting. Imagine someone revving that note directly up and down your spine. You'd be reduced to rubble almost instantly. So...I talk about how great the conclusion is. Reason? Pure symphony. I guess that's what happens in a professional ballgame when you've reached the apex of all the players being on the same page in the playbook. They're all way out in the land of fifth gear. If that's all Whitesnake ever committed to disc I'd already be on my knees thanking the gods of rock for the unmatched experience. Whitesnake doesn't skimp on this blend of erotic licks and no holes barred power. If I come across like some stammering fan boy you'll have to pardon me. It's such a magnificent slice of metal that no artistic means of writing about it could ever do it justice. This is steam without forking over obscene money for the time in the spa. Ir holds up well over time. There's no reason to think it won't always will.

Condemnation a Very Praiseworthy Depeche Mode Song.

Here we are at evening one of Austin City Limits Fest. Depeche Mode is on stage working the crowd into a fever pitch. I can only imagine this is true since I'm perched behind this keyboard typing up my latest round of sentiments but it probably won't turn out to be far from the truth. One of the less acknowledged songs from their body of work to my way of thinking is "Condemnation" from 1992's "Songs of Faith and Devotion". Martin Gore wears the crown of thorns convincingly. The beat is a big time knuckle drooper. You couldn't get any further away from the band's signature sprightly stepping "Just Can't Get Enough" where mood is concerned.Right off the bat you get this percussive, slowly timed thunk effect that sounds as if just getting out of its musical bed is too much of an effort for any of them to rightly stand. Martin's vocal range echoes the abiding pain of an obviously wounded animal. The lyrics don't just spring from his lips...they howl in agony. He suffers with pride yet has visible tears on his face as if to suggest he's not to sure he's bound to like the direction this particular journey is headed for. Most fans likely gravitated towards the grit of "I Feel You", all fuzzy and a pinch dangerous, but it's the deliberately choreographed "Condemnation" that's the single I turn to when I want to be totally mesmerized. Alan Wilder's drumming does a great deal to show the burden Martin's carrying. There's a clap along sensibility which runs through the song as well. Keyboards lend a slight hint of eerie spectacle to the proceedings. Martin's duty was to beauty and that was his crime. Nobody comes up with lyrics like that anymore. Pure poetry served up with a heaping helping of angst. The tone conveys this message of "Hey everybody. It's a funeral march and you're all invited. Maybe afterwards we'll have chips and dip." Like I said...deflated of any uplift. I like plenty of copious helpings of uplift so for me to get behind this song in a big way could be construed as somewhat of a Christian miracle. What can I say. It's all in how the gift is packaged. "Condemnation" is great theater from start to finish. The way the band's in sync harmonies have a hornet's nest buzz attitude to them. The pathos Alan Wilder gives to us all on piano is staggering. You wonder how any of them musters up any strength to proceed but somehow out of the hat comes one heck of a feisty rabbit. To those at the fest have an amazing time, by all means go bananas when "People Are People" or "Personal Jesus" rises up from the stage but don't forget that, whether the boys include it on the set list or not, "Condemnation" deserves no faint praise. It brings new meaning to the word "somber". Not only that it allows Martin to emote furiously as if the concept was soon to be passe. Sheer brilliance.

"Sirens" Is a Shining Light On a More Mature Pearl Jam Than Way Back When

The Pearl Jam of 2013 is, as you might expect, more of a ripened bunch, which "Sirens" proves. The fragility of this life takes center stage. The musicianship has managed to lose none of its bite two decades on. This cradles you as it's trying to get you to come to grips with your tenuous reality. Everything about the instrumentation gives the bandmates ample room to breathe which, for a song laden with existentialism, is no mean feat. Matt Cameron's presence on drums reflects the sedate progress of a more worldly wise individual. None of that pent up energy from the age of "Even Flow". It's a nice change of attitude. You can experience the drums being poured on you gently, as one might embrace the gentleness of a well thought out bath. Eddie loses none of his fire with the years either. Maybe less of the snarl he displayed on classic cuts like "Jeremy" but the man's unquenchable flame still is very much present. What a beautiful thing it is to be reintroduced to it at this point. He's surely the proverbial fine aged wine here. Good legs, as is the parlance in the vintner's world. Jeff Ament's bass playing inches up ever so slightly in one juncture. That takes "Sirens" to the level of a robustly shaped work of art rather than a product designed to fit snugly into album rock radio's wheelhouse. Nice curves across the board. Stone Gossard and Mike McCready ply their guitar chops commendably too. Don't worry, fans of "Ten". This selection, number #2 off of the forthcoming "Lightning Bolt" contains plenty of the feisty interplay you've come to expect from one of the '90s defining grunge bands. All they've done is drop in adult shadings. Those whippersnappers still have the goods. Now they have enough experience to know full well the extent of their laser refined aim.