QUEENS OF THE STONE AGE // Better Hommes And Guitardens

QUEENS OF THE STONE AGE with C.W. Stoneking + The Chats
Hordern Pavilion, Sydney
Friday August 31st, 2018

Remember that time Josh Homme yeeted his boot into a photog’s face?

It certainly wasn’t the Californian hellion’s proudest moment—I’m sure he wishes us pesky music journos would stop bringing it up all the damn time—but it’s worth noting because, as he explained in his “apology” video, that incident was borne of a hazy, impulsive urge. And that’s virtually all a Queens Of The Stone Age show is, when you think about it. They’re one of the tightest bands in the game—not just right now, but ever—but at their core, it’s a virulent freedom and a polarising looseness that drives their emphatic spark.

MORE: HALLOWEEN HYSTERIA: Your Guide To The Best Gig This October // THE AMITY AFFLICTION: No Script Necessary

Anyway, Queens Of The Stone Age are back in Australia. Given how delightfully off-chops last year’s Splendour In The Grass sideshows were, that’s massive enough as it is. But reinvigorated with Villains—their first album in four years, seventh overall, and objectively best since 2002’s Songs For The Deaf—one could argue the band are in the strongest shape they’ve even been. It makes sense the first of their two Sydney shows sold out in a heartbeat.

Kicking the night off was a gory little trainwreck of a set from the durry-punk memelords in The Chats. Famous for their viral hit Smoko and not a whole lot else, the trio made it immediately clear that proper touring was never in their trajectory. Cuts from their debut EP (Get This In Ya) poured from the PA like shitty mid-strength beer, frontman Josh Price stumbling over every other line with sandpaper vocals and Fisher Price® My First Punk Band™ riffing, while drummer Matt Boggis struggled to keep a beat. Perhaps in time they’ll cement themselves as the next Cosmic Psychos or Totally Unicorn—for now, at least, their schtick is too weak and their jams too aimless to justify doling the blokes any credence.

The highlight of their set came when a heckler punted half a Cornetto at Price, to which he responded by picking it up, eating it and making a Drumstick diss. At the average Oxford Arts or Rad Bar show, that would’ve been hilarious. Here—on an arena stage before one of rock’s biggest active outfits—it was just embarrassing. Especially when there’s no shortage of up-and-coming Aussie punk bands worthy of a shot like this (and with more diverse lineups than three generic white dudes in speed deelers and dad hats), it feels like putting The Chats on this tour was a giant blunder. Thank fuck they only played for half of their allotted time.

Queens Of The Stone Age are still a force to be reckoned with, their form tight as fuck and their shredding even moreso.

Blues god C.W. Stoneking was another questionable choice of opener—he fits in line with the headliners’ off-kilter swagger (we’d be unsurprised if Homme specifically picked him for the run), but our 5,000-strong crowd of Friday night mosh fiends weren’t here to get their swoon on. They wanted thick and fiesty rock ‘n’ roll, and Stoneking just couldn’t deliver. What he could (and did), however, was a 30-minute spread of soulful Southern blues jams, underpinned with a gruff baritone jangle and vocals that were equal parts battered and bright. The double bass and brass section helped nail down Stoneking’s unique Americana twang, but honestly, it was his two backup singers (swaying and striking poses in sequined dresses that glittered in the strobe lights) that stole the show completely.

By the end of his set, Stoneking had the Hordern firmly wrapped around his index finger, every numbing pluck of his metal-body guitar punching us square in the eardrums, and every smoky drag of a trumpet soothing us immediately thereafter. We’d almost forgotten that in a matter of minutes, the stage would erupt with fury like a volcano of guitar solos.

And that it did, with a left-right hook of Regular John and Do It Again quelling any doubts we might’ve had beforehand: Queens Of The Stone Age are still a force to be reckoned with, their form tight as fuck and their shredding even moreso. Homme’s voice was a brusque type of angelic on the slow-burning (then quick-erupting) Feet Don’t Fail Me—like an angel who arose to heaven from the ghettos and has a throat permanently stained with cigarette ash and cheap whiskey.

He was also shitfaced. His first interraction with the crowd came after an immaculate conduction of the aforementioned Villains opener, during which he slurred a greeting, dropped his mic and then spent a whole minute trying desperately—and failing—to put it back on the stand (a roadie ended up sprinting out to help him). But even fucked into the fifth dimension, Homme is a world-class performer. His inebriation barely showed in his singing, any garbled quip coming off like it was an intentional shiv in the formula. The beating he’d gift his guitars was always meticulous, not a fret
off-beat when he tore through a solo (an abundant occurance throughout the 90-minute showcase).

By all accounts, this was a show worth copping a foot in the face over.

As far as the guitars went, it was Troy Van Leeuwen who truly kept our jaws on the floor and our fists pumping with the force of a thousand suns. He, Homme and Dean Fertita delivered a consistent (and consistently intense) wall of sound with axes in hand, Fertita dipping off at points to elevate the soundscape with glittering keys that seeped a seedy opulence, the likes of which make the Queens so enslaving on record. And though interractions between them were rare, the chemistry that they revelled in en mass was nothing short of remarkable.

There was plenty of gold to unearth in their setlist, too, with an equal spread of scorchers from Villains and Songs For The Deaf driving the show, notched all over with fan favourites spanning the entire seven-LP discography (Era Vulgaris highlight Make It Wit Chu had the crowd in a notable flurry when it punched in the band’s enormous encore). And that light show— goddamn! From the moment Queens Of The Stone Age walked out to a peculiar mashup of Singin’ In The Rain and the Clockwork Orange theme, the stage was a playground of strobes, lasers and ambient red hues. Giant light-up wickets separated the band members onstage, with Homme using every break in a riff as an excuse to roundhouse one into a bouncing flutter.

Ending on a showstopping (literally) outbreak in A Song For The Dead, the band had us drenched in sweat, gasping for air and, despire their set running a meaty movie-length runtime, utterly desperate for more. By all accounts, this was a show worth copping a foot in the face over.

Queens Of The Stone Age are currently on tour across Australia. Catch them at the following dates:

Saturday September 1st – Hordern Pavilion, Sydney NSW
Tuesday September 4th – Derwent Entertainment Centre, Hobart TAS
Friday September 7th – Margaret Court Arena, Melbourne VIC
Saturday September 8th – Margaret Court Arena, Melbourne VIC
Sunday September 9th – Entertainment Centre, Adelaide SA
Wednesday September 12th – Perth Arena, Perth WA

Tickets are on sale now via frontiertouring.com