Orange County Register

For all the retro-fresh metal might on display during Them Crooked Vultures‘ thunderous, often deeply impressive performance Tuesday night at the Wiltern -– a record-release roof-raiser the night after they decimated the Roxy –- the most telling moment of the new group’s 90-minute set had little to do with music. It came a half-dozen bomb blasts into their performance, during obligatory introductions of each player.

“So this is Dave Grohl on drums,” Josh Homme announced nonchalantly -– and the Foo Fighters frontman received a heartier response than he did for simply walking on stage as the house lights went out, clad comfortably in shorts and a black tank top. Homme pointed to his left: “Mr. Alain Johannes …” –- and in-the-know types, aware of his behind-the-scenes contributions, possibly wondering why he wasn’t made an official member, applauded enthusiastically.

Homme then pointed to his right: “That’s John Paul Jones.”

Prolonged cheering nearly as loud as the band itself ensued, and justifiably so –- not only is it rare to see the Led Zeppelin bassist/keyboardist and sought-after producer playing anywhere, period, but already at this point in the show he had proven to be the night’s chief marvel.

Subtly dancing in place no matter how convoluted the grooves got, Jonesy, soon to be 64, was a constant revelation, his still-sterling, highly agile chops leading the way through snaky rhythms and stop-on-a-dime syncopated breaks, his mere presence seemingly influencing his younger collaborators to evoke the best of Zep.

Finally, Homme got ’round to presenting himself: “I’m your host, Joshua.”

The swaggering statuesque leader of Queens of the Stone Age probably meant it humbly, but his choice of words spoke volumes. For, though this is undeniably a supergroup (by far among the strongest from a field suddenly overcrowded with such ballyhooed enterprises), I see the Vultures primarily as some kinda serendipitous realization of Homme’s dream band.

All along his regular group has benefitted from a rotating cast of characters, including Grohl (who anchored the 2002 breakthrough Songs for the Deaf) and more often Johannes (who contributed to that Queens disc as well as the two that followed). Homme, among rock’s most restless spirits this decade, thrives on collaboration, whether producing the latest Arctic Monkeys effort (Humbug), sharing his time with Jesse Hughes’ greasy Eagles of Death Metal outfit or gathering as many friends and stoner-rock figures as can be found for one of his many Desert Sessions discs (10 and counting).

So what could be better than to have the fiercest drummer he’s ever hired back behind the kit while flanking himself with his best right-hand man and heavy rock’s most versatile bassist? What better way to flesh out what is essentially the next batch of Queens tunes, picking up where the herky-jerky stomp of 2007’s exceptional (yet underrated) Era Vulgaris left off, downplaying some of its industrial sheen while pushing its thick constructs into broader, wilder realms?

As skull-rattling and complex as this tight, forceful unit is –- and although all 13 tracks of its self-titled debut, played in its entirety Tuesday night, are credited to the group as a whole –- the Vultures don’t come off like a unified front contributing equally, as is the case with its most obvious comparison, the Dead Weather.

Whereas that supergroup sounds like an amalgam of its parts –- Jack White’s lead-footed rawness, Alison Mosshart’s electrifying menace, sometime Queens guitarist Dean Fertita’s dark shading and Raconteurs bassist’s Jack Lawrence’s Cream-filled fluidity -– Them Crooked Vultures plays like three ace musicians in service to a friend’s vision.

Not that the others haven’t rubbed off on Homme, or helped steer particular passages –- notably Jones, whose arsenal of sonic weaponry ranges from explosive slide-bass (!) when “Nobody Loves Me & Neither Do I” starts barreling down the tracks (suitably bowling the crowd over in the evening’s opening moments) to all manner of Zep-ish asides, punctuated by sudden, oddly-metered shifts.

“Reptiles” slithers along to an update on the jittery feel of In Through the Out Door’s “South Bound Suarez.” “Gunman” is propelled by desert winds from Arabian nights that culminate in a psychedelic haze right out of “Kashmir.” And “Scumbag Blues” evokes the funk-metal best of Physical Graffiti –- though instead of Robert Plant’s banshee howls oozing pure sex, it’s Homme’s heartbreaking falsetto and cynical zombiefied drone that does the trick.

Some of that is among the richest material Homme has put down, as is the roaring “Elephants,” in which the title animals alternate between stampeding and lumbering, skronking through their trunks all the while. Many melodic passages echo early Bowie and Syd Barrett, greatly enhanced by occasional Homme/Grohl harmonies. Others, however, fall flat: “Interlude with Ludes,” a swampy, synthetic Tom Waitsian creation, is an adventurous detour that doesn’t fully come together (neither did a meandering non-album track, “Highway One”), while this night Jonesy’s piano finale for “Spinning in Daffodils,” reminiscent of Supertramp at its most prog-y, was muddled and lacking grace.

Some of the weaker bits also reaffirm my belief that this year’s rash of supergroups is proof that rock is stagnating –- that some of our brightest minds are perhaps running short on ideas, or at least mojo. Deliriously infectious though the Vultures’ nascent work is –- by the way, Homme’s lyrics have rarely been so surreal and illuminating –- this still feels recycled to some degree. Also, given Grohl’s other commitments and Jones’ tendency to slip out of the spotlight, I wonder just how long it will last.

Hopefully long enough to wow at Coachella, maybe, and sooner than later concoct a second knockout record. As with the Dead Weather, here’s a tremendous new band with sky’s-the-limit potential. Only time will tell if it can actually fulfill that promise.

But regardless of any long-term future, how awesome would it be if the Vultures and the Dead Weather co-headlined next year’s Epicenter festival?

Set list: Them Crooked Vultures at the Wiltern, Nov. 17, 2009
Main set: Nobody Loves Me & Neither Do I / Dead End Friends / Mind Eraser, No Chaser / Scumbag Blues / Elephants / Highway One / New Fang / Reptiles / Gunman / Bandoliers / Interlude with Ludes / Caligulove / Spinning in Daffodils
Encore: Warsaw or the First Breath You Take After You Wake Up

Photos, both posed and from the band’s earliest club gigs, by Dustin Rabin.

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