Drinkin' With the Big Bad Wolf
Queens Of The Stone Age Write Happy Endings
Published by Rhino.com
"I think this is a band that's always wanted to figure out what's being done out there in music land, and then not do that," says Queens Of The Stone Age frontman Josh Homme.
Most bands out there will probably tell you the same thing, but this one backs it up with a consistently unorthodox brand of hard rock. It's wrong to call it metal, confirms Homme, and the fact that people still do really just speaks to an undying love for one-word answers. The Queens recently released their fourth album, Lullabies To Paralyze, which will most likely plot another high point on a steady commercial rise. Only a slight reformation of the band's unmatched amalgam of punk, prog, and metal, the record is more the sound of diligence and mastery applied to existing creative stores.
"Really it's kinda the same as it ever was," says Homme about the musical arrangements, which rely similarly on taut rhythms, roving bass lines, and oddly primitive guitar parts. "There's more use of lap steel, and there's a lot of horns and stuff like that. I really love the sound of five tubas in a room. It's really intense, and to see people blowing that hard is kind of comical too. So it's almost the same sort of instrumentation, like on 13 instead of 10."
There are hints of the early Queens sound, and that's not necessarily an accident. Joe Barresi, who produced the band's 1998 self-titled debut, was back in the chair for the Lullabies sessions. "I like working with Joe Barresi," says Homme. "He's an insider. He's one of us. I want musical relationships to last, so I think sometimes that means going off and finding out information and working on your own and then coming back and sort of bringing it back to the group. Joe and I have great communication that borders on telepathy."
Homme explains the sound that he and Barresi were going for: "The framework of it is much like the first record in that it's dry and natural. It didn't take much explanation. It was more about the discovery after we'd gotten to that point, and what do we add to show not just left and right but depth—you know, forward and backwards. And different reverbs and vocals that make it sound more spherical than just horizontal."
Lullabies doesn't follow a theme, but it does have a mood. Unlike 2002's loosely conceptual Songs For The Deaf, this one is "just songs back to back," according to the frontman. Prior to the sessions, however, Homme was reading a lot of Brothers Grimm fairy tales, which he says lent Lullabies a threatening air. Sure enough, he's added wolves and witches to the familiar cast of lost souls and jilted lovers, but hope is somehow declared the victor.
"I think this is a dark record," says Homme, "but it's dark so you can see where the light is, and you see where the reach for the light is. All of us have to deal with things that are beyond our control, and it's what you do with the things that are beyond your control. I think it's best to just let 'em go and say fuck it. So this is more the expression of reaching for the light, and I think that's why it starts in such a dark place, so that you see the full stretch for the light. Some people interpret things like that as being depressing, but I say that they're already bummed anyway, so fuck 'em."
"If you want to take it on a surface level, it just sounds sweet and dark," Homme says about choosing the album's title. "I like the idea of being cradled by something that won't let you go. And hopefully you're cradled in something that you don't want to be let go from either."
Last year Homme floated fake album titles—his way of adding to the spate of rumors already surrounding the band. "Basically," he says, "if there was a negative rumor that someone brought up to me, I would just encourage it, because I just wanted to help destroy the Queens. To me it was like, the press is a fake world, so let's just help. I think it really lowered the bar. When someone was saying Mark Lanegan got fired, I was like, 'Yeah, Mark was fired too,' but he was just touring his own solo record. For me there was enough bullshit floating around that the helping of it helped me, because it gave everyone else something to focus on while I was just making the record."
Of course the biggest chunk of drama involved the very makeup of the band. A partier who out-partied the rest of his pretty heavily partying band, founding bassist Nick Oliveri was fired in early 2004 for being what Homme described as "a tornado." "I think Nick started believing our press and thinking that he's gotta be the next Sid Vicious or something," Homme told the NME shortly after the split. "And I think Sid Vicious is a badass, but also I think Sid Vicious is a dumb drug addict who couldn't play bass and never wrote a song."
The two friends shot back and forth in the press before eventually mending ways. These days Homme shares bass duties with seemingly permanent utility man Troy Van Leeuwen (he appears in publicity photos with Homme and drummer Joey Castillo) and apparent part-timer Alain Johannes. Queens Of The Stone Age are neither a fixed band nor a collective, according to the frontman, but rather an ideal. That ideal came to include such people as Mark Lanegan, Masters Of Reality's Chris Goss, ZZ Top's Billy Gibbons, Garbage's Shirley Manson, The Distillers' Brody Dalle, and The Main Street Horns.
"There's a lot of switching instruments on this record," says Homme. "The deciding factor was, did you have a part? Did you have something cool to say on a particular instrument? To be honest, we were kind of all fighting to play bass, because it's fun to play. And we wanted to do Nick right and have Nick be psyched about hearing cool bass parts. So it's just a gut feeling that decides who plays what and what it is that you play. It's the same gut feeling that says which songs should go on the record. There's a lot of guts being used."
Music is a family affair for Homme, who says he values relationships above all. And Oliveri is family, so special attention was paid to the hole he left. "My long-time bro Nick wasn't there," Homme says, "so I didn't want to make things uncomfortable by adding someone new. It seemed like it was kind of disrespecting Nick or something. It seemed like it should be in our hands. I wanted Nick to be proud of what was on there, so when I was listening to the record with him, I was like, yeah, I hope he likes the bass. And he did."
Homme claims he doesn't care so much about his band's growing success. He just wants to play, and Nick's absence affects him more than career considerations. "I'll either be drinkin' with people after the show or not," he says. "And it's gonna be five thousand, five million, or five. I don't give a shit, because I'm really proud of this record. I put a lot into it. I put what I am into it, and after that I can't control it. And I'm okay with that, because when I left the studio I knew I loved this stuff. I got to save my friendship, and so both of those things are a victory. The rest is up to you, and I'm okay with that too. So let's get it on."