Australia is not the first country that comes to mind when one thinks of vigorous, relevant music.
In fact, two of that nation’s most prominent and recent exports – Jet and The Vines – traffic in so many insipid musical clichés that clawing one’s ears off with a garden tool starts to sound like a good idea.
Which brings us to Wolfmother. On paper, this Afro’d Australian power trio seems like nothing special. The glut of wolf-themed bands (Wolf Parade, Guitar Wolf, Wolf Eyes, etc.) renders its name uninspired. Its songs could be covers of Led Zeppelin or Black Sabbath B-sides, as similar as they are to those 1970s proto-metal legends. Formed a couple of years ago, Wolfmother writes about – ahem – unicorns, eagles and witchcraft.
Yet its eponymous debut, out on Interscope today, is a lesson in how to rock. Its fuzzy, psychedelic blues overtones pay tribute to that institution of rock music, the riff. Singer-guitarist Andrew Stockdale wrests the most delightful textures from his ax while wailing like a genetic hybrid of Robert Plant, Jack White and Geddy Lee.
More energetic than most stoner metal, crisper than Blue Cheer’s cover of “Summertime Blues,” Wolfmother’s smoking debut announces them as a major new player. Call it derivative – you would not be wrong.
But appreciate how much respect these boys have for their forefathers. Note the loving ’60s psychedelic-folk references in the lyrics. Recognize the way the distorted organ mimics the guitar notes in “Joker and the Thief.” Consider the sweet flute solo in “Witchcraft” and wonder why only Jethro Tull has tried that kind of blissful madness.
These guys make an insane amount of noise for a trio, as evidenced by their buzzed-about South by Southwest appearance in March. Bassist Myles Heskett and drummer Chris Ross create hypnotic rhythms, invoking Cream’s heaviest moments. Subtle touches such as mid-song arpeggios shred any doubts about Stockdale’s guitar prowess.
The album’s strength lies in its birth. Wolfmother wrote and rehearsed it at Cherokee in L.A., a storied space that once hosted sessions for Pink Floyd’s “The Wall.” After six weeks the band relocated to Sound City, where seminal albums such as Fleetwood Mac’s “Rumours” and Nirvana’s “Nevermind” were born. There the band recorded the basic tracks.
Producer D. Sardy (Dandy Warhols, Oasis, Helmet) added just the right amount of polish to dirty rockers like “Dimension” and “Tales,” knowing when to back off the and let the band sound raw and in your face.
The result is one of the year’s loudest and most satisfying party albums, and a command to see Wolfmother in concert. Tales of audience members ripping out seats and starting fires during shows abound in their fawning press materials, but it’s easy to believe.
Originality is overrated, but well-written songs are not, and at this Wolfmother excels. If only the guys would teach their fellow Aussies a thing or two.
Staff writer John Wenzel can be reached at 303-820-1642 or jwenzel@denverpost.com.
