If we had a dime for all of the “Holy s****’s,” “God*****’s,” or “F*** me’s,” heard filing out of the Pageant, The University News could become a daily newspaper. The kids were shouting, and rightfully so, about the blistering set from the greatest rock ‘n’ roll band on the planet, Queens of the Stone Age.
From the ashes of the Dwarves, the Screaming Trees and Kyuss comes the latest and greatest incarnation of Queens of the Stone Age. Though forced to replace drummer Dave Grohl, who left to continue his day job with the Foo Fighters, the Los Angeles-based rockers have emerged to gigantic stature over the course of three successively better albums. Call them the Black Sabbath of our generation and you still may not be doing them justice. In fact, Queens of the Stone Age just may be better than all of their forefathers.
The opening trio of “Monster in Your Parasol,” “Feel Good Hit of the Summer” and “Quick And to the Pointless,” set the tone. For if there is a theme for the night, it goes, “Nicotine/Valium/Vicodin/Marajuana/Ecstacy and Alcohol.” Following was a chemically induced set of relentless rock and roll.
Realistically, there were too many moments to document. Like when the shirtless Nick Oliveri screamed his way through “You Think I Ain’t Worth A Dollar But I Feel Like A Millionaire,” and “Ode To Clarissa,” the latter of which featured the brilliant line, “I’m the one your mama told you about.” Perhaps the best moment came when Mark Lanegan sauntered on-stage for the first time, lending vocals to “Hanging Tree” and “Auto Pilot.” Queens of the Stone Age were untouchable on Friday, and they knew it, too.
Maybe featured openers,..And You Will Know Us By the Trail of Dead, had something to do with the enthusiasm displayed by the Queens, because the Austin, Texas based-quartet upped the ante. Sure, their well-documented, instrument-trashing finale now seems contrived and every member is weak in the vocal department, but find another band, aside from the headliners, that are as successful in conjuring such energy from an audience. The main attraction lies in Conrad Keely and Jason Reece, who switch instruments and lead vocal duties as if it’s a competition.
After Keely screams his way through “Richter Scale Madness,” Reece belittles the “old people” in attendance before jumping into the crowd for a destructive “Homage.” Whether or not the Trail of Dead are tired of their vigilante shtick, it didn’t show. For all of their eccentricities, they are still exciting as hell.
Less impressive was opening act Peaches, whose brand of porn-rap suffers in a live setting. Songs like “F*** the Pain Away” have the ability to throw the dance floor a curve but falter in front of a predominately male rock audience.
Despite the Queen’s brilliance, something told you that there was more to come. You get the feeling that the band hasn’t come close to peaking. It’s inconceivable to think that the band can get louder, harder, or more inventive. Can they? Only time will tell, but we’ll be waiting with baited breath.
