by Ben Hohenstatt (@Hohengramm)
Despite marking the debut of one of the most influential rock bands of their generation, Queens of the Stone Age’s self-titled first album didn’t blaze a bold, new trail. Instead, the 1998 release built an off-ramp connecting a remote stretch of desert highway to a skeevy dance club, where sometimes-concerning QOTSA mastermind Josh Homme could take residence. While that description might not appeal to everyone, sludgy sounds and locked-in grooves combine to give Queens of the Stone Age scuzzy charm that makes that metaphorical, Lynchian music venue a fun place to visit. Now’s as good of a time as any to check it out in light of a late-June reissue of the album via Matador.
By the time Queens of the Stone Age was released, Homme, QOTSA’s sole constant, had already been around. He’d toured with the pretty great and extremely influential Screaming Trees. More importantly for QOTSA, he’d been part of the also pretty great, also influential Kyuss, who were decidedly more niche. While that band’s stoner-metal stomp may not have reached a Lollapalooza ‘96 stage, its bootprints are all over QOTSA’s DNA and early sound. Homme’s fellow Kyuss alum Alfredo Hernández drums on Queens of the Stone Age, and Kyuss producer Chris Goss is credited with providing vocals, bass, and even clarinet on the album, too.
QOTSA’s lineage is made especially apparent on the reissue. Like past deluxe versions of the album, Matador’s release adds a trio of tracks “The Bronze,” “Spiders and Vinegaroons,” and “These Aren't the Droids You're Looking For” that weren’t on the 1998 Loosegroove Records release. Both “Spiders” and “Droids” are instrumentals with the latter embracing a Primus-like lurching angularity, and the former transitioning from a martian martial march to an almost industrial groove across nearly six and a half minutes. “The Bronze” sounds more like a proper Queens song with a long, tremolo-doused intro that belies an otherwise urgent track with characteristically incendiary guitar work and uncharacteristically plaintive vocals.
Elsewhere, Homme begins to realize his vision of rock “heavy enough for the boys and sweet enough for the girls.” Side one track one “Regular John” uses guitar bent into a trembling mosquito hum to queue up a churning riff that would feel right at home on Rated R or even Songs for the Deaf. “Avon” pulls a similar trick by warping a repeated gnarly guitar lick into a pumping piston that powers the song along. Meanwhile, “If Only,” “Give the Mule What He Wants,” and “Mexicola” combine different flavors of monster riffs with drumming that demands sympathetic foot taps and Homme’s smooth, almost-detached vocals to create intoxicating song-length hooks. It’s music for dancing like Ian Curtis or Elaine Benes (or their unholy spawn) and what makes Queens of the Stone Age work as well as it does. Closing track, “I Was a Teenage Hand Model” is another bellwether for QOTSA while also sounding unlike anything else on the album. Its burbling synth intro and bong rip sound effects push it into perilously goofy territory, but it's wonderful to marinate in its heavy-lidded Station to Station on extra quaaludes energy. It also forecasts a whole substrain of Queens of the Stone Age song — the half-ironic, fully good slow jam — that would stand out on future releases. Plus, its mumble-sang, wordless chorus is a frustratingly catchy half-remembered dream. The song is a departure that announces itself as something completely different, works on its bizarre terms and feels like an earned ending point.
Queens of the Stone Age is not a snapshot of a great band at its peak. It’s arguably not even a snapshot of the band at all. Key figures from legacy-cementing albums — problematic spark plug Nick Oliveri, rock’n’roll’s spokesperson Dave Grohl, multi-instrumentalist Troy Van Leeuwen, Screaming Trees lead singer Mark Lanegan, and longtime percussionist Joey Castillo, among others — weren’t in the fold during its recording. But it is an extremely enjoyable hard-rock album that’s compelling on its own merits and downright fascinating to examine as a stepping stone between a beloved cult act and the kind of band that can move units, earn plaudits and command critical respect across a quarter-century.