Wednesday, September 7, 2022

20 Years of "Songs For The Deaf" - A Conversation


D.M: ...and so we find ourselves with another year and another anniversary.  This one strikes as more recent than our usual fare, which is usually viewed through the lens of decades of perspective.  Not only that, but I think this marks the first time when you and I have decided to analyze, celebrate and debate and album that was released at the point when we were already adults; legally anyway, if perhaps we were not fully formed and functioning members of a working society.  

We are talking about Queens of the Stone Age, and the 20th (could it be possible?) anniversary of their principle and foremost album, "Songs for the Deaf."

Given some other options, we agreed to take this one on I think because we were on the same page that there's a lot to dissect here - few albums in our lifetimes, let alone our formative years, are so complicated in terms of their fit into the era of their birth.  

"Songs for the Deaf" existed at that most unlikely, and increasingly rare crossroads, of college radio darling and mass-media success.  The album was impossible to avoid, growing from the shadow of the not so long forgotten Kyuss and given credence by virtue of the folks who deigned to appear on it, or otherwise were associated with it.  The album's legacy however, seems equally judged by not only its own merit, but the company it kept, and the influence it imparted in its wake.

Desert rock was really the last bastion of alternative rock in the traditional sense to find a foothold in the popular ear (parenthetical: 'alternative rock in the traditional sense' should functionally be a paradox, but we'll ignore that since that's not what we're here to argue about,) and "Songs for the Deaf" not only was the best example of the genre, but served as the last mosh-ready option in a genre that had largely given over to post-grunge and ultimately to emo.  

And so we're faced with the historical conundrum of a record that in retrospect seems an anachronism even in its own time, and yet might be the most influential album of the bunch.  At the risk of speaking out of turn, I think there's a clear shift in the thinking of the Foo Fighters after "Songs for the Deaf" - there's a change between "One by One" and "In Your Honor," that resonates all the way out through "Wasting Light," where it's impossible to hear the much-ballyhooed single "White Limo," and NOT hear "A Song For The Dead."  Even more obvious, does Them Crooked Vultures" even happen without "Songs for the Deaf?"

That's probably about enough by way of an intro.  Before we get too far into the details, I'll let you launch some initial thoughts on why we're here.


CHRIS C: I want to start with a potentially unrelated question. How many albums after "Songs For The Deaf" are important, classic records? There is a degree to which time is necessary to make such a judgment, but we also have a feeling before the dust settles whether it's going to blow back in our faces or not. It seems to me that over the last twenty years, whether it's an actual decline in quality, a saturation of avenues having been explored, or boomer generations that stopped caring long ago, very few records have the kind of acclaim and impact to be certified classics. Post "Songs For The Deaf", a case within genres can be made for "American Idiot" or "The Black Parade", but very few other records manage to sell, to inspire, and to provide something as essential as an enduring guitar riff.

Let me start there. "No One Knows" has become one of 'those' guitar riffs. You know the ones; they pop up on lists of the best riffs ever, and you hear them played in guitar stores by people who are picking up instruments looking for the one that will inspire them. That sort of thing seemed to die out after the guitar hero movement of the 80s. I've been running things through my head, and I can't really come up with many universally beloved riffs that have come out after this one. The only other one that compares is "Seven Nation Army".

The other big thing about this album, to me, is the movement it started. No, not a boon of desert rock. No, not the concept album returning to popular parlance (although we can talk about whether the concept adds anything to the experience - I don't think it does). What I'm talking about is the start of the 'hired gun superstar' era. Dave Grohl joining the band for this record, with his pedigree and fame, is the direct forerunner to Travis Barker appearing on every pop-punk album released today, among other things. Can you imagine if John Bonham had decided to use his off-time from Zeppelin's touring schedule to go drum for some underground band? That's what happened here, and the way Grohl elevated the band's stature (I firmly believe he is the one most responsible for QOTSA's rise) gave others the idea that they too could enhance their legacy by lifting other bands up.

I find your assessment of the Foo Fighters to be rather interesting, because I don't hear that at all. You're absolutely right about "White Limo", although I could also say that was Grohl paying tribute to Lemmy and Motorhead. Either explanation would illustrate why it's one of my least favorite Foo Fighters song. But if we're talking about desert rock, and QOTSA, I hear far more similarity between the two bands from the "One By One" album. It has the same dirty, jamming heart, and lack of concern for radio domination. To a degree, I think the two albums were almost a double record, with each band putting one half out. Then again, I'm also one of the few who thinks "One By One" is my favorite Foo Fighters album, so its twentieth anniversary also being this year is worth noting as well.


D.M: Ooooooooo, that's an excellent question, and a really delicious, subjective exercise that musical fanatics will assuredly and self-righteously rake us over the coals for.  Let's dive in!  You already started with "American Idiot" which I disagree with only because it is such an album of its time (....or is it?) and so its impact is more in remembrance than in enduring legacy.  That's an important metric here, and speaks to one of the greater and underrepresented qualities of "Songs for the Deaf," which is timelessness.  Queens of the Stone Age's record sounds every bit and vital and virile as it did then, at least as far as its idiom is concerned.  Some of this, at least as far as you and I are concerned, is a product of the time it was produced.  Digital recording and preservation is, to speak in clumsy metaphor, the plastic surgery of our musical era - stuff never sounds 'old' anymore.  Whereas you and I came of age in the '90s, when an album that was twenty years old sounded old.  Not bad, just old.

"Songs for the Deaf" is more than just a product of digital production, though - there's a certain snap to record that makes it instantly recognizable and consuming of attention.  But I'm getting off on a tangent.  Let me get back to that after I finish my original thought.

I'll grant "The Black Parade."  Sure.  As I scoured about, I thought for certain there was some bloated, self-important Radiohead album that would qualify, but somewhat to my shock, all of their 'classic' albums came before 2002.  (My opinion of Radiohead is no doubt showing, but I will grant them some measure of respect for being a band who never really caught on in a mainstream way, but always seemed to be able to sell out an NBA arena on two days' notice.)  So in answer to your query about albums in rock/metal/alternative that can hold a candle to "Songs for the Deaf," I am left with just three suggestions.  First off and most important, "Chinese Democracy."  Okay, I can't keep a straight face after typing that.  Moving on.  Avenged Sevenfold's "City of Evil," which probably has the most tenuous claim and I'm willing to leave behind.  The other two are more difficult.  Recency bias might play in here, but perhaps Ghost's "Meliora"?  Ghost has become something of a mainstream darling, and that was the album that catapulted them from 1,500 general admission headliner to 15,000 seat headliner (I know, because I watched it happen.)

The other....and I don't even want to bring it up, because it's awful, and because somehow I've taken on the role between the two of us of saying "you know, they suck, but don't forget about..." and that's Nickelback's "All the Right Reasons."  Gross.  I feel gross now.  I don't even want to talk about it.

...sigh....

Back to the point I was making, and it meshes with something you hinted at, particularly as it relates to "No One Knows."  Confession time - I know the first line of actual lyrics in that song.  I know nothing that comes after, because I've never felt like I had to.  The hook is so good, and the simple two-beat so effective, that it's easy to get lost just in the musical journey.  Homme's voice is more an instrument of harmony than it is a purveyor of meaning, and it's even more rare in that or any era when a voice so fits the pocket of the song.  This is part of the snap I was referring to above.  "No One Knows" is hardly the only example of this on the album, but it's the most prominent, and it's what makes this record so unique. And then, when you get into the chorus, and that fuzzy, desert-burned rhythm guitar strikes, drowning out Homme entirely, it lends an importance and a depth to a song that until that point feels flighty and weightless.  

There are few bands in my catalogue that are solely recognizable based on their guitar tone, and fewer still are the albums that can be identified by that same virtue.  Any Rage Against the Machine record.  "Ride the Lightning."  Boston's iconic first album.  "Master of Reality."  Not many others.  Virtually none in the new millennium, saving two: Wolfmother's first record, and "Songs for the Deaf."

There's more I want to get to, but I want to stop for now with this question to you in turn - is there a greater kingmaker than Dave Grohl?  And why is he the pinnacle of the form?


CHRIS C: I get what you're saying about "American Idiot", but I'm going to have to insist it's an enduring classic. It was massive at the time, we can argue that without it "The Black Parade" and every other mainstream concept album afterward may not have happened, but it's undeniable that the album has staying power. The singles were huge when they came out, and I continue to hear them on rock radio (on the times when I have no choice but to listen to it). I don't hear Radiohead, and the only My Chemical Romance song I hear isn't from their masterpiece, but Green Day is still all over the airwaves, even though they've sucked ever since.

You mentioned Nickelback, but none of their albums can be classics, since you can't find anyone who actually likes them. This stature is a mix of being popular and being loved. "Chinese Democracy" would fall under the same rule. I like it more than a lot of people, but I even as a thought experiment I can't make a case for it being a classic. "Meliora" is an interesting choice, and I'm giving it some thought, because it's dawning on me that success these days is far different than the timeframe I was originally thinking about. Ghost doesn't have crossover, top-40 hits, but they are hugely successful on the rock charts. You might have hit on one there, but I'm still going to say it's a lesser classic, if we say it qualifies.

I'll match your confession; I didn't know much of the lyrics to "No One Knows" either. I looked them up, and I've got to say, I'm not impressed. Rock lyrics are more often than not terrible, and there's part of me that is rather depressed by how little interesting poetry these people come up with. I know not everyone is going to write the way I do, but that old line James Hetfield had about writing as if he was a Mack truck doesn't strike me as always being a good thing.

With the snap and pocket you're talking about, is "Songs For The Deaf" the most prominent mainstreaming of groove in modern rock? Much of QOTSA's music is built on those hypnotic grooves, and it's quite different from the usual riff-iness rock music is associated with. It strikes me as almost being as if you took nu-metal, left it out in the sun until everything black faded to nearly white, and then listened to the brittle remains. And yes, I realize that is far more esoteric and poetic an image than we get from rock lyrics. That's sort of my point.

Do we want to have the guitar tone discussion? There's a couple of reasons why we haven't had any unique and identifiable tones in recent years. One is that a lot of these bands are lazy, and they are happy to copy the sounds they were inspired by. Another is that they all use the same gear, so any differentiation is going to be limited anyway. The last, and maybe the most important, is the prevalence of re-amping in the production process. If you've ever listened to an Andy Sneap production and thought they all sound the same, there's a reason for it. A large number of the records he makes are literally run through the exact same amp, because that's the sound they asked for. People are no longer finding old and sketchy amps that all had their own quirks. Everyone now has access to digital copies all based on one particular amp, so they're all painting with the same palate of colors.

Grohl might be the best kingmaker, and it's because of two things; his talent and his affability. He wouldn't have the power he does if he wasn't a remarkable drummer and songwriter, but he also wouldn't have the power he does if he wasn't a likeable guy. If Axl Rose joined three other bands, they wouldn't succeed, because no one is rooting for him. Grohl is one of the few guys who not only seems to truly love what he does, but who also seems to genuinely want everyone else to succeed as he has. Does anyone get that vibe from Jimmy Page?


D.M: A final thought to tie up the Dave Grohl point - I saw him perform live, only once.  It was with Them Crooked Vultures, at the now-defunct Roseland Ballroom in Manhattan, roughly across the street from the Ed Sullivan Theater.  I have seen many drummers in my days.  And I dare say, I have seen many more purely talented drummers than Dave.  But I have never, NEVER seen a drummer who hits his kit as hard, or plays with more enthusiasm and joy, than Dave Grohl.

Sure, let's have a guitar tone discussion!  Here's the fundamental question for me when it comes to guitar tone in the post "Songs for the Deaf" era: if you create fuzz and warmth through purely digital post-production means, and no one walking by could tell the difference, have you created authentic fuzz and warmth?  I think this is the same argument that people are making to argue the semantics of plant-based, or even cloned, meat.  What is the soul of a thing?  Is intent in music enough to overcome the trickery of production?

Much less esoterically, and this actually ties just a little into the Soundgarden/Nirvana debate we had earlier this year - Did the '90s represent the end of the Age of Guitarists?  Is that what made Homme or Stockdale or White so much more interesting, that they'd become an anachronism of a time gone by?  Parenthetically, even as accomplished as they are, I don't know that they measure beyond the legacy of the likes of Thayill or contemporaries from other genres like Hammett or Friedman or Cantrell or dare I even mention Van Halen?

But anyway, I wanted to unload another smattering of thoughts that pertain to the album we're talking about.  And you mentioned it without knowing I was going this way - that "Songs for the Deaf" may be one of the best examples of groove in mainstream modern rock.  There's a lot that goes into this conversation, not the least of which is the concept that makes metal fans' eyes cross: that for all the metal riffs and groove that I love, some (not all,) of the single grooviest riffs I know are born from rock and not metal.  "No One Knows" is certainly among them.  "Joker and the Thief" is in there, too.  More on that in a minute.  First: a brief aside about "No One Knows."

A lot of very kind words, including by me, were scribed when news of Mark Lanegan's passing came across the wire.  I invoke him here as the co-writer of "No One Knows," and a necessary staple of "Songs for the Deaf," mostly to say this: Mark Lanegan was a truly underrated songwriter for his entire career.  Not just his principal works with the Screaming Trees, or his mainstream success with Queens of the Stone Age, but his insightful and soulful solo career as well.  There's not much more to add than that as far as Lanegan himself is concerned, but it needed to be said.

It does draw to a larger point, though - that Queens of the Stone Age, and this album by extension, was both an important reminder of the grunge era, nearly ten years gone at time of release, and a critical bridge between that era and the next generation of rock to come.  Queens of the Stone Age, along with two bands we've mentioned already, Wolfmother and The White Stripes, were the vanguard for a rock revival, however brief, and reverberates today.  

To that end, I've always felt that "Songs for the Deaf" knew what it was: maybe the last of the great rock albums.  You can hear it on the album in an obscure way, told through the vignettes of the radio stations that one would experience driving through the California desert.  The stations get smaller and smaller in scope, sounding more frazzled and less well produced, exemplifying that perhaps Queens of the Stone Age knew they might be the last vanguard, struggling to keep purchase as creative, unique rock and alternative would be driven from the radio entirely, in favor of more soulless, corporately-produced music.


CHRIS C: Now we're venturing into the question of analog versus digital, and I don't know if I want to fully go down that rabbit hole again. What I will say is that I don't believe an amp, or a piece of vinyl, somehow has a soul. They're all just manifestations of sound with their own advantages and disadvantages. Let's start by remembering that early guitar distortion was just that; distortion of the intended sound. Those amps were never designed to sound the way The Kinks made them, so in a sense all we've been doing for the last sixty years is finding what version of noise sounds more pleasing to our ears than others. Somewhere along the line, we convinced ourselves music is supposed to only sound like it did in the 70s, even though it never did before, and never would again. So no, I don't really care whether the sound is organic or processed, only that it has an identity to it that makes a band a bit unique. Then again, QOTSA sound like many other desert/stoner bands, so being first to the mainstream with a certain sound definitely goes a long way to establishing yourself.

After all, no one criticizes a painter who uses the same color palate as everyone else. It's what you do with it that really matters.

Hmm... most people draw the line at the late 80s as the end of the road for guitarists. That's funny, since you can find dozens of players on YouTube who can play circles around the 'guitar heroes' of that time. I don't think the decline of rock music had much to do with the guitarists themselves, at least not in the sense I think you're going for. What I think happened was around the time we're talking about, John Petrucci's instructional videos came out, among other things. We saw guitar playing become more of a sport of technique, where the most gifted players fell into the trap of wanting to prove everything they could do. They either put out instrumental music, or they joined technical prog bands. We didn't have the greatest musicians writing and playing on songs that would become popular, so the entire genre started to wane in the public eye when it was populated largely by the second tier (Hello, Puddle Of Mudd!). So it isn't that it was the end of guitar players, but you have to look somewhere else to find them.

Oh god yes, metal is largely grooveless. Even in 'groove metal', it's often only in the basest of forms. Groove, like rock music itself, has roots in the blues. So since metal is rock with the blues stripped out of it, of course it feels too stiff and rigid to properly groove. There's a massive difference between headbanging to the rigid time of the drums, and swaying to the flow of a wandering bass. Metal often gets too far up its own ass to be any fun.

Lanegan was vital to "Songs For The Deaf", although I'm going to have to be the party pooper and say none of his solo work I ever tried to listen to caught my attention at all. I think he had run out of steam by the time he left QOTSA. But they would not have been who they were without him. Their earlier stuff is fine, but didn't set the world on fire. Their later stuff is also fine, but never really crossed over again. I think the key to all of this wasn't just Grohl's name value, but Lanegan throwing just enough of the Screaming Trees type melody into this record. Without him, I don't think Homme would have been able to write enough singles to keep the momentum rolling as it did.

I hear the album a bit differently. I take the radio vignettes as the band creating their own little world wherein they were rock stars. That makes "Songs For The Deaf" their last gasp effort to bring this more authentic style of rock to the masses, where they would fade back into the desert to amuse themselves if it didn't work. But like a self-fulfilling prophecy, the story came true, and they found themselves where they dreamed to be. It was almost a dare to the mainstream; the band saying they knew they had the songs, and all the stations needed was the courage to play them.


D.M: I think there's only one question remaining that we haven't touched on yet, and I'll give a brief take and then let you have the last word to take us home.

With Queens of the Stone Age as its figurehead, what's the ultimate legacy of desert rock?  

My best estimate is that the enduring impact of the genre is middling, in the literal sense.  Certainly, it comes nowhere near the revolutionary nature of the British Invasion, or the emergence of American punk, and indeed barely deserves to be mentioned in the same sentence.  But I also don't think that desert rock is akin to grunge; burning brightly but quickly, with little residue left behind save in some of the drop-tuned corners of alt rock and metal.  Ultimately, and I say this as a general defender of grunge, the failing of grunge is that it is only, as this moment, a memory of those who lived it.  

But I think desert rock possesses more staying power.  It is hampered by the fact that rock as a genre is less popular now than during its halcyon days, but nevertheless, the spirit of the movement can be heard living on in a number of popular bands that we mentioned earlier, up to and including the Foo Fighters.  

Moreover, the dry (for lack of a better term,) cracked-dirt guitar tone that the genre birthed can be heard in any number of facets, ranging from the emerging and popular like BRKN Love to the truly niche Mollo Rilla.  Desert rock created an influential sound that more than outpaced the lifespan of the genre itself.

And at the center of it all, "Songs for the Deaf," an album which endures beyond its years and will be cited as an influence for decades to come.


CHRIS C: I think the desert rock legacy is as arid as the landscape that birthed it. You mention grunge, and while the true era was indeed short and bright, we're still dealing with the legacy of it. If anything, the 'post-grunge' era was every bit as big as the original, and it certainly has lasted longer. With Creed and Nickelback as the biggest names to come from it, that particular modern rock sound has never fallen out of favor. It's why we gripe so much about what is popular on the rock charts these days. In twenty-five years, we haven't changed the sound all that much.

Desert rock never permeated that same way, but I think that's actually for the best. While grunge still hangs in the background of so much of what we listen to, the decades of hangers-on have lowered grunge's esteem. It's often derided by people who were not there at the time, and I get why they do. Desert rock is almost entirely represented in the public consciousness by "Songs For The Deaf". The legacy of the entire genre rests on one of its best examples. Imagine if grunge was only known for "Nevermind", "Facelift", and "Superunknown". We would think very differently about it, I imagine.

Ultimately, "Songs For The Deaf" stood apart at the time, and that has allowed it to stand alone today. Being peerless has its benefits, and that is what we have essentially been talking about this whole time.

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