Hard rock heroes Wolfmother revived their genre with a surge of energy widely unexpected from the masses; however few imagined that not only could this momentum be capitalized upon properly, but that it could be topped. Thanks to the Guitar Hero franchise, to which Wolfmother largely owed its success, it all flourished; however, Canadian quartet Priestess was able to display a far superior songwriting prowess, and given that they emerged about the same time as their Australian counterparts, Priestess truly assert themselves on their briskly advancing sophomore effort.

Wow. They're practically begging nerdy gamers to eat this shit up.

Lady Killer gives Prior to the Fire an excellent, blazing start, with simultaneously complex and fist-pumping hooks. There’s an immediate feel somewhat different from that on their debut, however; whereas the debut was chock full of quick and snappy hard rock, here there’s a slightly more progressive quality. The following Raccoon Eyes is more suggestive of Hello Master, with its rapid, punchy delivery, though it still sounds just right where it is. The Firebird perhaps is the first to truly establish the album’s mood, as it makes the previous two songs sound better together by successfully combining the best of both in four compelling minutes of intricate stadium rock.

Next is Murphy’s Law, written about what vocalist/guitarist Mike Heppner has stated to be his favorite movie (Robocop). This revelation renders the lyrics as slightly… okay, very cheesy, but since this is the obvious intent, you can’t help but be charmed by the oddly gentle song’s personality; as is said in both the song and (almost) the film, “that’s some fancy shooting, kid.” The band wastes little time busting out The Gem, an eight minute epic sounding slab of hard rock that sounds as though it should have been saved for Prior to the Fire’s latter portion. Still, the band is able to make nearly ten minutes go by very quickly with clever hook-ridden progression, especially in Heppner’s shouted vocal patterns. However, what is clearly intended as the album’s centerpiece eventually gets too self conscious to reach for greater heights, and almost as if aware of this, it ends with a very unfitting abruptness.

Nerds? Would nerds have beards and leather jackets??

The extremely dynamic Communicating Via-Eyes isn’t particularly remarkable but boasts an outstanding solo and keeps the record’s propulsion going until Lunar kicks in, which is one of the moments in which drummer Vince Nudo shines; namely in his magnificent cymbal work. Heppner isn’t exactly left out of the money himself, as his vocal hooks here are among the best the band has shown yet. In fact, Heppner’s vocals steal the show again on the following It Baffles the Mind. He may not be a technically proficient singer, but he can flawlessly carry a melody, and his powerful voice unquestionably takes command here. The song’s tangled bridge only serves to further compliment the slick songwriting.

While Heppner may not be at his most convincing shouting “I’m a demon” with his high register, the song is musically worth all its effort. The beat changes so frequently that one can’t help but be impressed by how the song’s personality is unchanged by the numerous time signatures found within, as well as, again, Nudo’s great drumming. We Ride Tonight’s sliding guitar riff carries an impressive amount of charisma on its own, but combined with the rest of the band’s efforts, proves to be nothing less than a highlight of the band’s admittedly short catalogue. The closing has difficulty keeping up with all that has preceded it, but while it shows a chink it the album’s consistency, it’s very forgivable, considering its fearlessly aggressive beat and ferocious melody.

Unfortunately the States will have to wait until February 2010 (god, that year’s not even a month away and it still looks futuristic.. maybe THEN we’ll finally get our hoverboards) for an official release due to a few label related conflicts, but Priestess’ highly anticipated follow up is well worth the wait. The added progressive rock influences have only helped Priestess sharpen their sound, and it’s become evident that if any band can top Wolfmother in the arena rock department in this era, it’s them.

It’s been three years since Wolfmother put out their stellar debut album. Some haven’t taken notice. Some wondered if Wolfmother were just flash-in-the-pan classic rock shucksters who were riding the retro garage throwback wave which as we all know came crashing down in late ‘07 (shortly before reports, still speculatory at that point of the fragility of our economy started to seep through). Rumors would run rampant. Had they broken up? I heard somewhere down the electric grapevine they were involved in a grisly tour bus crash. And a plane crash. Of course, none of these things are true, and Wolfmother come back assertive and more focused on Cosmic Egg, though this is an easy enough feat when traversing familiar territory. Solid hard rock album? Oh yeah. Led Zeppelin/Black Sabbath revivalists? Sure. Possibly the next great Stadium Rock act? It’s sure startin’ to sound that way, kids.

Cosmic Egg starts off with the sonic blitz, “California Queen”. The quick tempo and steady and heavy drumbeat never let up and make sure to grab your attention. Even if you’re not a big Wolfmother fan, you’re sure to find yourself shocked to see you tapping your feet or pumping your fat little fist. It’s definitely a promising start to the album and prove thus far that Wolfmother are gonna stay the course set by their first LP. Anthemic and primed for radio play, the next song “New Moon Rising” doesn’t disappoint and sheds light down an avenue of rock and roll traversed by other legendary stadium rock bands such as Led Zeppelin, Deep Purple, and Stone Temple Pilots. It becomes quickly evident that Wolfmother know what their good at, have a formula, and are sticking to it. Folks, let’s be clear now: you ain’t gonna be hearing any new fangled experimenting or masturbatory analytical guitar work here. But that’s not why you listen to Wolfmother, is it? The only shame is that the big bombastic songs are so good, it makes the less impressive and mid-tempoed “White Feather” and “In The Morning” sound dull and unimpressive. These songs are easily forgettable and sound more like filler than anything else, relying mostly on a half-hearted vocal melody and Houses Of The Holy era guitar work. If Wolfmother were attempting to write their “Rain Song” or “The Ocean”, the effort was hackneyed and unimagined. Veering off into slightly different and sludgier territory, “In The Castle” and “10,000 Feet” follow the Black Sabbath/Soundgarden riffbook to a T. At this point it’s clear they have no intention of developing a new sound or if they are, just can’t seem to get away from the Stadium Rock Rubric. Though by the end of the album, they sound like the stopped listening to Led Zeppelin and decided to picked up Masters Of Reality along the way, the album remains mostly consistent and has no real surprises to offer, nothing unexpected around the corner. The closer, “Violence Of The Sun” resets the pace and clocks in at just over six minutes, the longest song on the album. Considering that most of the songs averaged at about three and a half minutes and is slow to get the point, it tries your patience being the final song on the album. By the time the hit the chorus nearly three minutes in, you may have lost interest, which is a shame since this song sounds more like their own than any other on the album. Atmospheric, thick, and heavy, it’s a fitting if not pedantic closer.

Fans of stadium rock will not be disappointed by this album. In it’s entirety it plays well, is paced predictably if not consistently and surely sounds great live. Those of you expecting a touch of experimentation, a bit more creativity, a little less derived musicianship, turn right the fuck around and pick up “10,000 Days”, or the last masturbatory piece of garbage The Mars Volta are trying to tell you is an album an not their collective spurt dedicated to disc. In these low and trying times, that type of pedantic shit takes up too much space and wastes too much time. Unimagined, yes, derivative yes. But fuck if this album ain’t fun, which is exactly what I expected. Whether you agree or not, that’s the point and it always has been. Wolfmother break no ground, set no new rules or antes, traverse no new avenues. But they never attempted or pretend to. If The Mars Volta are to this generation what Pink Floyd was 30 years ago, then we’ve found our Led Zeppelin, our Deep Purple, our Bad Company. In a time where experimental and creativity are lauded by the indie music hordes, even when they fail miserably,Cosmic Egg is refreshing and familiar territory. Break this one open, kids, and bask in the Cosmic Egg. You’ll be glad to know you’ve seen and heard what’s inside before.

When Chevelle popped up on the radar back in 2002 on the strength of singles The Red and Send the Pain Below, they came across as an Opiate/Undertow era Tool with slightly emo tendencies. While this approach gained them a substantial following, it also saw them ending up written off by a large chunk of the alternative metal audience as… well, an Opiate/Undertow era Tool with slightly emo tendencies. While it is true that their M.O. is a double-edged sword, Chevelle offered very creative songwriting on their major label debut (though second overall) Wonder What’s Next, which they sadly weren’t able to recreate on their subsequent efforts.

While This Type of Thinking (Could Do Us In) and Vena Sera were at no loss for great songs boasting monster hooks and a solid piquancy, they were at a loss for consistency. Like fellow Maynard James Keenan disciple Will Martin’s band Earshot, they were putting out albums that felt more like outstanding singles cluttered with an overabundance of B-sides.

Tom and Daniel had successfully escaped the aliens' flying saucer; however, they were not looking forward to explaining to the town why they were now skeletons.

On Sci-Fi crimes, not only do the songs sound great, but they do so unfailingly; there’s no lull in the songwriting’s quality, nor is there an overwhelming urge to simply skip ahead to any particular track. Even the lyrics have gotten better; true, there’s still a lot of Gavin Rossdale reminiscent gibberish (though nothing as bad as Greedy Fly; I’d be impressed with the song that could top “I’m screaming daisies from fourteen miles away”) but genuinely clever moments as well. “[Jars] is kind of a play on words,” says drummer Sam Loeffler. “It’s saving the environment. It’s a joke about saving the environment and it’s about literally taking the earth, and putting it into jars to save it for later.”

Jars, the lead single, is at the tail-end of a bruising opening, with the only breathers coming in Shameful Metaphors‘ verses. There’s an ardent charisma to the fierceness though, primarily because the songs are so catchy. Some even have an almost post-hardcore sound, like Fell Into Your Shoes, which sounds like latter-day Deftones with more focus, or the furious, Helmet-recalling Roswell’s Spell. Still, the most crushing moments are given their power from the record’s impressive dynamics. In the softer moments, particularly on the acoustic Highland’s Apparition, Pete Loeffler sounds more like Keenan than he probably ever has, which isn’t a criticism so much as a less charitable way of saying he sounds pretty good. The song benefits from the spare arrangement, and it produces a very haunted atmosphere. The interlude, Interlewd (ha-ha), is a great break from the brutality as well, almost as well placed as Sevendust’s Insecure from the Home album.

Granted, Sci-Fi Crimes isn’t going to top any year-end lists, it hasn’t revolutionized the genre, and it isn’t any kind of departure from their already established sound. It is, however, a great showcase of all their strengths, and presents them in an accessible package on par with Wonder What’s Next with a consistency that just isn’t found that often in this genre.

This just in! Have you watched WWE Superstars lately? That band that does the introduction music had me scratching my head as to who it was. I’m all about discovering the themes of songs or entire albums, I believe that Invincible, the intro track on Las Vegas band Adelitas Way nailed it on this one.

This made me want to walk into the arena like a badass, introduce myself to the crowd, and then proceed to kick a grown man in the throat to take him down. Apparently this is all in a day’s work for the boys in Adelitas Way, as they will soon march their way into the arena of over 20 cities on their tour.

Their self titled album was released today, and will follow with a tour with The Sick Puppies, and Saliva around the country to (hopefully) body slam people in the mosh pit. While being a fresh new band, they are making a lot of headway in the eyes of hopeful legends such as Robert Knight (whom I had the honor of meeting recently); who believe this band will set its cornerstone in the music world this summer.

Chad Lehner over at EMI hit me in the head with this album not long ago, and I’m glad, as I’m again broadening my horizons in the rock album section of my collection. This seems like quite a versatile album to me, with songs like Invincible chopping my swiftly to the larynx; with a shift to songs like Last Stand to remind me of 3 Doors Down. Even so, this band stands on its own two feet, while building its name in the ranks in all the right ways.

The theme is the classic embodiment of rock meets love; and while there’s no Bret Michaels around, it does the trick for me. The ladies will jump all over the last track on the album, Brother, with its piano entrance, and personal touch to it, while the guys will put the first track, Invincible on repeat whilst riding around looking tough.

All said and done though, the third track, Dirty Little Thing got me hooked with its muffled, catchy-ass chorus in the intro, with country hints throughout the song. And I’m happy to hear that this rock album isn’t overly produced, and retains a legitimate amount of organic feel to it, just to lock in the personality of the band.

It’s important to understand, as I said with The Sick Puppies, it’s not mainstream that bothers me; it’s when it’s done incorrectly. This band did its homework before pushing forth their envelope. Fans of Papa Roach, 3 Doors Down, or even Guns N’ Roses will want to hear this album. Consider it a contender for the wave of bands trying to accomplish a worldwide re-up for rock music. Again, this one is out in stores today, to go out and cop yours to bump with the windows down.

Hell, even stop at a light to get out and kick a dude in the throat (you don’t need the spandex though).

Until next time my friends,

~Flak

I’ve been meditating on the idea of what to call my submission articles on the albums I receive from record labels, bands, and other media outlets. Finally it hit me tonight while driving home: This Just In.

Perfect right? I know. How is it different? Basically I will be writing articles in a slightly different format, because these are albums that were given to me, instead of the usual me seeking out albums before coming up with something for you to salivate over and gander upon.

It’s only fitting that I christen this process with a band that I have grown to love over the last couple of months, The Sick Puppies.

Today, the band releases their third studio album, Tripolar. Big up to Jules Exum for her hard work down there at Virgin Records, and getting me acquainted with the band. Originally from Australia, the band has done a little relocating, and now resides here in good ol’ Los Angeles.

The album hits you in the face with the song War, which is also featured in the Street Fighter 4 soundtrack. Any song that has a hard drum fill intro, followed by yelling “Let’s do this!” is going to be badass. That’s the best way to describe the bad, simply badass.

After hanging out and interviewing the band, I learned they are real, professional, and quite talented. From Mark Goodwin’s solid drumming, to Shimon Moore’s transforming voice (from Aussie to hard rock…never knew how accents disappeared like that), to the numbing bass pulse of Emma Anzai’s Warwick slapping.

The theme of the album seems to revolve around the idea of, as Shim told me, “losing your shit”…particularly on that bully that you’ve been itching to beat down for years. Put simply, this is the quintessential underdog revenge album. And this is where the originality lies; an album about us underdogs finally experiencing the idea that (as Evidence from Dilated Peoples says) ‘success will be the best revenge’.

I think one of the biggest challenges in the music industry today, is to make something that the mainstream will love, while still bring something original to the table. This is one of those bands that have a rough story; having trodden down to the depths of near failure, to then soar back to the top.

What’s important to note, is that the band has softer songs, with choruses that reminded me of Finger Eleven (particularly the last track, White Balloons) whilst also incorporating songs that are going to rock your face off (perfect example being War). This creates an original journey that parades past the mind’s eye.

At the end of the day I can say that first time listeners like myself will need to drop your bias of thinking that all mainstream is terrible. Believe it or not, bands are still having amazing stories of their ascension to the top of the rock world. Such is the case with the Sick Puppies, and I hope you make this album one for your collection as I did.

Until next time my friends,

~Flak