Six years after Villains, Queens of the Stone Age return with the arrogance and the venom that have always characterised them. Since the late 1990s, the Californian outfit led by Josh Homme have embodied a classy alternative rock, heir to desert stoner but open to a thousand influences, from krautrock to twisted pop. In Times New Roman…, an eighth album, arrives after a trying personal period for its leader, and it shows.
The critics, favourable (an 80 average across twelve reviews), hail a record rougher and harsher than its predecessors. Gone is the polished glam of Villains: Homme here reconnects with biting guitars, throbbing grooves and a black humour that at times verges on the settling of scores. Praise goes to a sharpened writing, an intact sense of riff, a bitterness that gives the record its marrow.
Musically, the album cultivates that swing so typical of the band between heaviness and sensuality, between aggression and refinement. The hypnotic rhythms, the venomous melodies, Homme’s nonchalant and sarcastic voice compose a picture recognisable among a thousand. The dry, organic production restores the tension of a band playing tight.
The record does not, however, quite reach the summits of Songs for the Deaf or …Like Clockwork. Some more anecdotal tracks struggle to impose themselves, and the whole sometimes lacks those blazing choruses that once hit the mark. This is a very good Queens, but not an essential one.
Verdict: 8/10. A rugged, biting record confirming Josh Homme’s inexhaustible creative vitality. Less immediate than his classics, but rich for whoever takes the time.
