Eagles of Death Metal Heart On Review

Released 2009.  

BBC Review

It's a knowing but loving, and exuberant dissection of their native culture.

Keira Burgess 2009

Homme and Hughes bring their two man, sex-drenched cabaret back with a mix of authentic 60s blues rock, and a generous sprinkling of glam-pomposity.

Having fulfilled his obligations to one musical family, Josh Homme returns to the bosom of the other, changing into his satirical hat on the way. The twoing and froing might have put obstacles in the way of the Eagles' touring potential but his creative double-life evidently provides a chance to plant his tongue firmly in his cheek and his hand beneath his waistband. Having coaxed former school-friend Jesse Hughes from fledgling guitarist to songwriter-in-chief and personality both behind and in front of the project, he offers the spruce to his friend's raw rock material, which, on this third outing, manifests itself in tales of that most cruel and unusual species: the Hollywood dweller.

It has all the cynicism and sarcasm you'd expect of something written by an artist like Hughes who arrived late to the fame game, although thankfully with the warmth which makes it all banter, not bitter. Having conceded that "there's nothing new under the sun", and declaring himself a disciple of Little Richard and Keith Richards, this album is the kind of rootsy garage rock you'd expect from a Stones fan, with the lyrical prowess of a man with a healthily filthy mind. After all, what would a record personally dedicated to the world's female population be without a track like Solo Flights, dedicated to the sacred act of self-gratification?

Suitably, the album is littered with primal grunts and growls, whoops and sighs, bolstered by the feminine input of Josh's wife Brode Dalle and L.A celebrity tattooist Kat Von D; included no doubt the with intention of irreversibly diverting your mind to one subject in particular.

And that's the fun. The Eagles celebrate their status as rock stars, enjoy the experience, but refuse, lyrically at least, to take it all too seriously. The musicality is a different matter. Single Wannabe in LA offers oriental sounds which may well have been strangled from the very extremes of the fretboard; Now I'm A Fool has the vocal harmonies of The Kinks, while Anything 'Cept The Truth goes from 70s glam to 60s garage free-for-all, reminiscent of Primal Scream circa Give Out But Don't Give Up.

It's a knowing but loving, and exuberant dissection of their native culture.

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