Them Crooked Vultures

Not sure if anyone has heard of this; I've been following it pretty close to the chest, but after a few "surprise" and "secretive" performances the last few days, I suppose the cat is out on the veranda blowing reefer plumes into the fading summer sky. Them Crooked Vultures, a supergroup consisting of Josh Homme (Queens Of The Stone Age, Kyuss) on guitars and vocals, John Paul Jones (yes, the JPJ) on bass and keyboards, and Dave Grohl (Nirvana, Foo Fighters) on drums, is now a reality. Apparently, the seeds from this holy rock union have been germinating since 2005 and based on what I've been reading, they have been playing 80 minute sets of progressive sludgy stoner rock and psychedelic blues with massive riffage. One person who attended one said that Grohl was thrashing the drums like they'd wronged him earlier in the day. There is most likely going to be an album. There is most likely to be a tour. There is most likely a reason we should all be very excited. Especially since I really like Dave Grohl when he isn't hamming up his meal ticket on a Foo release. And who said rock was dead?

The Mars Volta - Octahedron (2009)

I apologize well in advance if this review resembles something I would spew in my Two Minutes Hate, but I've never been one to pull back on my punches, and I don't intend on doing so here. This album fucking sucks. (You can stop reading here if that's all you require.) If Bedlam In Goliath was considered their loudest and most bombastic, this album is their most quiet -- quiet as in I could take a fucking snooze, from stem to sternum, in Lake Baikal, Russia and this would not stir me from my peaceful sleep. Anyone take Ambien? After this album, I know by not knowing, in an approximate sort of way. To say that the album is terrible, really, isn't exactly fair, though -- it simply evokes nothing. It's drib drab dribber drubber drowl, a pocket of dark matter in the expanding nothingness we call our universe, worthy of not even the margin of space it now occupies in my small apartment. Oh, and the lyrics -- БОЖЕ МОЙ - the lyrics for these guys have always been -- how do I say it succinctly -- stupid, with two o's. Swathed amidst the innumerable layers of sound on their previous albums, it was harder to notice just how fucking juvenile and 7th grade the lyrics were, but now I am convinced that Cedric thinks he is a fucking warlock. Good luck to him. Personally, I always wanted to be a samurai, but that cuirass looks way too heavy for me and besides, can you imagine me with a sword? Hack hack hack. So have at it Volta fans. Eat this nu-progadelic like fistfuls of sloppy wet shit at a carnival cookout contest. Everyone else, give thanks that it ends quicker than anything else they've released. F