I’ve had a slightly unhealthy obsession with Josh Homme for some time now. It doesn’t hurt he’s got a sexy desert swagger that sends my head spinning, but the guy has yet to do wrong with the music he creates. Be it with Kyuss, Eagles of Death Metal, Queens of the Stone Age or any other project he attaches himself to, Homme has consistently turned everything he touches into gold for my ears. And, thankfully, he's also kept rock ‘n’ roll worth listening to.
Back around Lollapalooza time this year, I started hearing rumors the unthinkable was about to go down. Could it be true? Was the man of my dreams really going to be teaming up with (drum roll, please) Dave Grohl and John Paul Jones as Them Crooked Vultures?! I couldn’t believe what I was reading, but the Internet was abuzz with hints of a secret show that would put the three legends of rock together at the Chicago festival. It was too good to be true!
But it was true. Oh, dear God, it was. I spent months of sleepless nights, visions of the greatest collaboration known to man boogying wildly in my head. Sure, Homme’s got a pretty sweet place in my heart, but let’s get real here. There’s no way I would be the person I am today (nor would I be writing music reviews) if it hadn’t been for the years I spent under the hypnotic trance of Led Zeppelin and Nirvana. Learning the trio would be making a stop in Portland just about made my heart stop. This was no "supergroup" coming to town. This was three of the most talented rock musicians alive, touring to reveal the perfection they’ve cast upon the guitar, drums, and bass.
Needless to say, the anxiety I endured leading up to the show was almost too much to take. As I entered the Roseland Sunday night, I soon learned my excitement was matched by half of Portland. Packed to the teeth, the venue seemed to be sweating with enthusiasm. Every face was plastered with a nervous smile, each member of the crowd teetering on the verge of sanity as they awaited the entrance of the fantastic trio.
Lucky enough to get a photo pass to the show, I found myself inches away from where the band would be positioned. And I’ll admit it: the second all three of them started walking out, my knees just about crumbled to the floor. Grohl had a grin on his face that showed he, too, was ready to have a damn good time, while Jones and Homme held looks of determination in their eyes. They all seemed equally impressed with each other, all of them eager to see what concoction they were going to lay out on the crowd that night.
What transpired over the next couple of hours was absolutely 100% mind-blowing. Them Crooked Vultures firmly established themselves as the greatest live act out there today, playing a dirty brand of sexy blues that hinted at each of the trio’s previous bands. Embracing the mic with a snarl, Homme’s voice aptly accompanied Grohl’s 99-mph drumming and Jones’ genius mastering of every instrument he grabbed. And none of the three ever let up.
Performing from their self-titled album, released just weeks before, the band disclosed fierce rhythms with each song. “No One Loves Me & Neither Do I,” “Caligulove,” and “Gunman” were all terrific, but it was the bluster of “Scumbag Blues” that had me booty-shaking more than any other. Throughout the show, Grohl smashed the drums with rapid-fire succession, nearly bringing the snare to flames. Homme proved his voice essential to proper rock music, inflating it to monumental levels, then reducing it to low, sweet goodness when needed.
But then Jones got the stage to himself, and the world stopped. Lights were dimmed to train just one on him and the magic he was to unleash on the keys, and his solo brought me nearly to tears. Crafting a story with his notes, I was overwhelmed with the truth that this band might just show Jones at his finest. Following the maddening applause that thanked him for the effort, Homme said it in his humbled best: “That was John Paul Jones.”
And so it was. I’m not sure I can expect to see something as incredible as I saw on the stage this night ever again. I had entered with only a slight fear the music of these gentlemen had been done too many times, that there was little ingenuity they could inject into it to make it unforgettable. Wow, I couldn't have been more wrong. Them Crooked Vultures are all that is good of the past, and everything that is exciting for the future of rock ‘n’ roll.
