Review: Queens of the Stone Age live at the Electric Factory in Philly

Smoke machines, sex and swagger. This was an appropriate combo and intro to a riff-tastic and incendiary set by Queens of the Stone Age which on this tour stop, celebrated the re-release of their long out of print self titled 1998 debut. Lead metal guru and poster boy Josh Homme started the show with an axe strapped saunter to the mic, reveling in the haze of a sold out show. With a boozy smirk and a well kept ginger mohawk-meets- mullet, he plunged into the massive fuzzed- out purr of “Regular John” and three thousand fists punched for sky.

As the tight band of bros. behind him collectively caught their breath (none of whom played on the debut), Mr. Homme paused to proclaim “Welcome to our first album.” Little did anyone but the chain- walleted fanboys know, that the band was about to play the obscenely overlooked album in its entirety.

The album, which on repeated listens reminds one of an illicit scene in the back of a shag carpeted van buried in sweat and smoke, was fantastically recreated by seasoned Queens players Troy Van Leeuwen on guitar in his traditional shiny suit and drummer Joey Castillo(Wasted Youth, Danzig). They along with Dean Fertita on keys and the swivel –necked bassist Michael Shuman, crushed renditions of “Avon” and “If Only” into desert metal fairy dust which floated over the frothing front rows.

Although Josh seemed a bit sluggish, dance weary and sex hung over, his guitar prowess and untouchable tone were spot on and deadly. How he remains under- discussed in the realm of modern rock axe legends is a nervous head scratcher, for sure. He comes off as a conquistador of chords, having spent years trolling the high desert for the right riff, stopping for cigarette breaks in between dust storms.

The surprising highlight of the show was a one two death punch of “How to Handle a Rope” and “Mexicola”, two wicked rolls of pulse and thunder from the middle of the album. The rabid, blood burning energy of the sweaty house would have made one think that the nearest meth lab had given out free samples with ticket stubs.

Queens of the Stone Age seem to always slay with substance no matter who shows up to play, and on this evening, we were dead and gone in the beauty of the buzz.

A List of Songs That Really Don't Have Anything to do With St. Patrick's Day

My luck has run out so many times this past year that even being an Irishman on St. Patrick's Day seems obsolete, a holiday right up there with Arbor Day. But I'm gonna do a list to pass the time. So add your own before you rush out to try and shave 10 to 15 years off of your life while drinking Green Budweisers from a Big green plastic cup on a street somewhere and end up behind a dumpster passing out while you piss.

1) Sister Luck-Crowes
2) Lucky Man-ELP
3) Green River-CCR
4) Luck Be a Lady-Sinatra
5) Get Lucky-Loverboy
6) You Got Lucky-T. Petty
7) Lucky-Radiohead
8) Lucky For You- REO
9) With a Little Luck-Wings
10) Bad Luck Blue Eyes Goodbye-Crowes
11) Lucky Day- Tom Waits
12) Green Buckets- Clutch
13) Love is Green- Jeff Beck
14) Green Flower Street- Donald Fagen
15) Green Grow the Rushes- REM
16) Green Machine -Kyuss
17) The Green Manalishi- Judas Priest
18) Being Green-Kermit Frog
19) Little Green- Joni Mitchell
20) Green Honey- The Melvins
21) Blue in Green -Miles Davis
22) Green Earrings-Steely Dan
23) Your Lucky Day in Hell- Eels
24) Lucky Star-Madonna
25) Lucky 13-Bert Jansch
26) My. Lucky Day-Springsteen
27) Big Green Country-Neil Young
28) Bowling Green-Neko Case
29) Bitter Green- Gordon Lightfoot
30) Some Guys Have all the Luck- Rod Stewart
31) Lucky in Life,Unlucky in Love- Richard Thompson
32) Buckiingham Green-Ween
33) Lady Luck- Deep Purple
34) Green Arrow- Yo La Tengo
35) Green Disease- Pearl Jam
36) Green Grass and High Tides- The Outlaws
37) Green is the Colour-Pink Floyd
38) Green Eyed Lady-Sugarloaf
39) Green Tamborine-Lemon Pipers
40) When You're Down On Your Luck-Thin Lizzy

Things I Think I'm Finished With # 1,000,431 : Rolling Stone Magazine

Rolling Stone Magazine:  I've been a subscriber off and on for almost 30 years. The rock journalism was top notch in the 70s thru the 90s. I was a fan of writers like Hunter S. Thompson, Ben Fong Torres, Mikal Gilmore , Anthony De Curtis and a bevvy of others true to their craft of investigative rock interviewing and commentary.

I forgave them for their flip flopping on mammoth artists like Sabbath and the mighty Zep, and ignoring RUSH, all cornerstones of rock and both initially panned by Jann and Company.  I heralded them for their access to rock legends and the legendary interviews with Lennon and Jagger and Neil and Bob. I loved the lists, and the animosity that ensued following their publication(usually two or three times a year to boost sales, UGH)

I know how most of you out there will say that this mag stopped being relevant right around the time Cobain cut himself short . I hung in there, being a rock history buff. RS was one of the first.

The recent pandering(ok it comes in waves with every generation) to the clueless youth(yeah, I really have given up) with cover stories on the cast of GLEE, Justin Bieber, and now..lowest of the low..Snooki has hit me like a sack of wet textbooks that none of these target readers will ever pick up. And that's the point.

Who is the audience? What is the point of burying a certainly controversial story about Sammy Hagar badmouthing the brothers VH, or a profile on general McChrystal, or a fantastic expose on reclusive genius Merle Haggard, or great recent reporting by former NYPress Scribe Matt Taibbi...in favor of a fucking SNOOKI or Justin Bieber story...IN TWO CONSECUTIVE ISSUES!!!!  Who is this MAGAZINES audience?????????

Is there anyone in their right mind who isn't wearing a training bra  or aspiring to be like an orange tinted oompa loompa looking troll.... that would give a flying fuck about these people???  Among those who actually subscribe to this mag???  TWO Lil Wayne covers in two years????? HUHHH??? Do We Care? Is it essential to know what this gold grilled assclown's next move after JAIL is gonna be? And how do the writers feel about being under that masthead, after all of that great writing, and playing fourth fiddle to Matthew Morrison(who??????...yeah, that's right) and his glossy  castoffs of a burned out, played out, broadway karaoke line.

This AINT fucking TIGER BEAT, Jann! And leave fucking SNOOKI to the pages of that throwaway US rag that all the wanton competing house fraus read while in the checkout line at Pathmark, loading up on Mountain Dew, diapers and Hot Pockets.

Yeah, I read MOJO(although it usually costs 10 dollars and takes a wk to get through), and occasionally SPIN and I get most of my relevant music news and bitter rock fuel from all of the rock snobby blogs.

But I still cared for this mag. And I can't do it anymore.

Yes We Can

No Glee, No Gaga, No Beyonce, No Bieber.....This is Flight of Icarus NAILED by a bunch of genius English schoolkids. If this doesn't make your day, you're either deaf or dead.