You know what they say about the tears of a clown when no one's around? Dave Wyndorf is a misunderstood rock clown, although it's all his fault: When you get down to it, he's a crooner who alternates tales of woe-is-me-i-am-passed-out-amidst-a-thousand-strippers with exultations to his own rock godliness that you can tell even (especially) he doesn't buy. Using stoner rock bluster as a subterfuge for pity-me bottoming out is a strategy as old as Stone Temple Pilots, but Wyndorf is undeniably the "real deal" if only because he is a real down-on-his-luck scumbag, and on MM's seventh full-length and Wyndorf's first post-overdose record boy is that ever true. I recommend traipsing carefully over MM-by-the-number bombs like "You're Alive" and "No Vacation" to get to the emotional core: the opening title track, with it's mix of Nuggets-era psych crunch and Eastern modality, contains this couplet, clearly sung by a naked Wyndorff, 25 tabs into a trip to infinity, staring himself down in hard judgment: "I see you kissing yourself in the mirror now/And I can tell that you like what you see/I caught you sucking the life out of me"; and the final track, a plaintive tune called "Little Bag of Gloom" is one of the most compellingly brutal songs ever written to yourself about what an idiot you are for overdosing. Most MM fans will hate this album because it has acoustic guitars in the background and is produced to be halfway listenable, and no one else will care because they've all had it with Wyndorf's shit by now. Too bad, because this record rules. GENRE | WALLOWED ROCK
VERDICT | GETTING OVER HIMSELF, OR NOT
RELEASE | 11.6.07
LABEL | STEAMHAMMER US
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