Review - Eagles of Death Metal: Heart On

Published in Soundcheck Magazine (11/22/08)

For the past five years or so, it has been silly to expect anything from Eagles of Death Metal aside from the semi-novelty that came with the band’s silly name, the members’ farcical fake nicknames, and especially the crotch-rocket testosterock that has driven the Jesse Hughes and Josh Homme project since the band’s inception. In some ways, they sound like an inhibition-less version of Homme’s other band, Queens of the Stone Age – they are to the Rolling Stones or Aerosmith what Spinal Tap was to W.A.S.P. or Ratt.

Considering that there aren’t very many inhibitions that contained QotSA in the first place, that’s saying a lot. It’s also saying a lot to discover that the band’s latest album, Heart On, is not just better than the Eagles’ other work, it’s genuinely enchanting as a serious cut of songs – in other words, you can now play their music not just for your Tenacious D-loving friends, but also for your Stones-loving friends, too.

That’s not to say Homme has lost his rock-jester charm, because this album is just as fun and silly (and, of course, as comically cocksure of itself) as the band’s previous two entries. But this time, the swagger is convincing, the power is tenfold, and the riffs are the stuff of the major leagues. “High Voltage”, for example, opens with an industrial-style beat before kicking the doors down with an aggressive one-note repeated riff while a venomous guitar solo dances around it all. That song isn’t as much a surprise as “Now I’m a Fool”, which completely lifts the verse melodies of Steely Dan’s “Only a Fool Would Say That”, setting it to the soaring, echoing guitar timbre of Heroes-era David Bowie. The heavy crutch on those two influences is forgivable if only for the reason that it is so unexpected.

There are various other surprises on Heart On, but they are a little more reserved. They emerge in fleeting glimpses, like the war chant effects on first single “Wannabe in LA” or the funk rhythm section of “(I Used to Couldn’t Dance) Tight Pants”. “Solo Flights” recalls another verse melody, this time of MC5’s “High School”, and the album closer, not-so-subtly-phallic “I’m Your Torpedo” is like a high-intensity Depeche Mode romp recorded in a steel mill.

There are some who will never give Eagles of Death Metal the light of day. There’s just too much goofing off for those people to really consider the band a serious listen. But for those who appreciate the tongue-in-cheek glee with which these comic book rockers paint their swagger-presence, this album is another hit of juiced-up “rawk.” That much shouldn’t be a surprise. But the clear and sudden musical relevance – now that is something new for the band.

– Andy Pareti