Hot off their debut last April, Sr. Carajo are one of many creatives showing up those of us who’ve got nothing done during lockdown, now releasing a new EP and looking to make waves. Reigning from a budding underground scene in Bogotá, Colombia, these guys flit between punk, rock, and psychedelia like it’s their day job – and they certainly don’t hate Mondays. Sporting a colourful and entertaining sound adoring not nearly enough grateful ears, they release Malviaje today, a follow-up to last year’s 80.000 V Ojo de Dragón Morrison.
Last time out, singer and frontman Ariel Chapavel told me that the band’s first EP followed the story of a mythological fantasy world split between a magical kingdom and a non-magical kingdom, the former ruled by a powerful duck entity and the latter ruled by the mighty Diablo, Beelzebub himself. It chartered the tale of titular protagonist Ojo de Dragón Morrison and his battles with Diablo across bash, playful and bouncing rhythms spanning King Gizzard, Black Sabbath and At the Drive-In comparisons, all played alongside its own special li’l spice.
He told me that most other Colombian music had become increasingly laborious as it just talked about breakups. Perhaps Sr. Carajo and their music are exactly what Colombia needs. Perhaps they are exactly what we all need, still, to this day, cooped up in our homes, scrambling for any semblance of fun or adventure amidst a time that feels as if it’s time that’s been forgot.
Malviaje (or Mishaps), continues in a similar vein, as joyously as that first foray but with yet more swagger. Whilst the Spanish-spoken lyrics are lost on me, the carefree festivity vibrating through the music suffices to tell a detailed story, its irreverent verve meeting jest in Chapavel’s vocals that serenade and shout like a seesaw that’s probably had a drink too many.
Straight off the bat, this new EP sounds fresh. The first of five tracks, Tardes Moradas (Sueños y Malviajes) (or Purple Afternoons (Dreams and Mishaps)), graces us with a sturdy, fudgy bassline (courtesy of Joel Mohnblatt) hopping at a mid-pace alongside crispy hi-hats – it’s a groove. Guitars float in bit by bit, and by the time the vocals slumber we’re amidst a delightfully psychedelic trance, that popping bass being a particular highlight, somewhat akin to Polygondwanaland sounds.
We find another mid-pace psychedelic bop in track two, Luego Vemos, with watery guitars flowing between an accomplished, steady melody dipped in the odd fuzz pedal and synth sound, adding a necessary twinge of seasoning to a song that could find its home in any local venue to swaying hips and nodding heads. There’s a patient, progressive feel to this new EP, a little less hyperactive than their first, a little more mature despite the fact there’s only a handful of months between them. I’m told that the band wanted to focus on issues that concerned them this time, as oppose to just otherworldly battle sequences. I’m fine with either, honestly. And for good measure, Sr. Carajo manage to mix in both.
The wonderfully off-beat fourth track saunters in with a nod or two to the plight of Ojo de Dragón Morrison and introduces a new character in the titular Buda Eléctrico (Electric Buddha), a character I’d love to get to know better with its intriguing stop-start rhythm, whilst El Hombre Avispa (The Wasp Man) pounces on the back-end of the comfy, almost shoe-gaze sound on Luego Vemos to bring in an aptly timed burst of energy, approaching the subject of “bees dying because of the use of pesticides”. It does so with a brash confidence told through big chunky riffs across a meandering song structure that just gets better and better with each listen. I learn that the word Avispa (Wasp) is used in Colombian Spanish as an insult to the sort of loser who tries to take advantage of a situation at another’s expense. You tell ‘em.
Capped off by a mysterious, roaming adventure through Párajos, Cordilleras y Agua (Mountain Ranges, Birds and Water) — which, I’m told, explores raising awareness about water usage — this little 5-track EP I feel manages to fit in more than their first one could. With Malviaje, Sr. Carajo add earthly blues and greens to a musical colour pallet that already sounded kaleidoscopic. They swap a focus on punky chunkiness for a more progressive, introspective, but still equally fun sound that gives off an aura of wanting to achieve more, whilst retaining that sardonic edge that keeps their feet firmly attached to the ground.
It’s a short musical journey, this one, but it feels like a journey nonetheless, straddling sounds almost akin to Thee Oh Sees and Omar Rodriguez-Lopez’s finest solo work (see Cizaña de los Amores) – and that’s exciting to me. A razor-sharp, spacious mix loaded with fuzz, reverb and flangers makes it feel like a step forward from their debut, not only musically but production-wise, too. Cono González certainly knows how to hold a drum beat here, and Juan Daniel García seems like a guy who’s having the time of his life playing around with all the guitar pedals he got for Christmas, his odd inclusion of synths here and there being a very welcome inclusion. This is a band enjoying themselves, and they aren’t taking themselves too seriously in the process. That honest lack of pretense really shows itself in the music, here, and yet they still seem to have something serious to say about the world that’s worth listening to.
Where I felt like Sr. Carajo could have expanded their sound further after 80.000 V Ojo de Dragón Morrison, I finish playthroughs of Malviaje completely content that they’ve done so. Only now I’m awaiting a full LP release with eager anticipation – and a European tour perhaps? Let’s spread the word. To anyone into anything remotely psychedelic and/or rocky, give this little EP a go. You won’t regret it.
best tracks:El Hombre Avispa, Tardes Moradas (Sueños y Malviajes)
This week, we’re showing love to the West Coast with killer, somewhat underrated Afro Puffs, the 1994 single from The Lady of Rage.
To establish something from the get-go, we’re not talking about the *weak* mix that you’d find in the music video for this banger — lack of bass, lack of funk, lack of good. Fortunately, you’ll find the LP version to just as rough and stuff as you could hope for. Between the slamming drums, booming low-end and wailing drone, you’d be hard-pressed to find another song as quintessentially G-Funk as this one, with Dre’s production having an influx of grimy sheen left over from the impeccable-sounding Doggystyle, which came out only a few months prior. Building on top of the menacing groove that keeps everything grounded, Dre also saw it fit to add a variety of cartoon “boOOOOOp”s and clanging percussion in the background, like you’re stuck in an episode of Compton Looney Tunes.
Over this, you’re likely to be ruthlessly battered by The Lady of Rage, an MC who, despite not having the strongest overall discography, is known to have one of the illest flows in the West Coast of the time. Much like Snoop Doggy Dogg, who makes a couple of obligatory appearances throughout, her flowing is smooth and immaculate, in stark contrast to her hardcore, punchy delivery and gritty lyricism. Over three verses, it’s just showstopping quotable after another (The tongue that has outdone anyone from the rising to the setting of the sun, anyone?), as Rage backs up her braggadocio with lyrics that you just can’t argue with. Despite the vast underestimating of female MCs at the time (even Queen Latifah couldn’t smack the fellas out of that one), everything about Afro Puffs demands respect, while The Lady of Rage, on this track especially, remains one of the most authorative MCs comparable to Ice Cube and Chuck D.
This week, we’re taking a look at the serene and beautiful Weird Fishes/Arpeggi, from Radiohead’s 2007 release In Rainbows.
With a suitably, eponymously nutty video to boot, Weird Fishes is, bar none, a top-ten Radiohead cut, let’s get that out of the way firstly. Secondly, we should also give a little shout-out to Lianne La Havas’ beautiful cover of this, which is what got me listening to this tune again.
I don’t know what it is, I really don’t. What drugs/religion/sex did Radiohead collectively take/follow/have (don’t wanna think about that last one, to be honest) in 2007 that led them to dream up In Rainbows. One of the most melodically satisifying albums ever recorded, the band’s 7th effort is packed to the brim with gorgeous tunes. Befuddingly a non-single, Weird Fishes is one of those songs where the entire band is playing to their unbelievably powerful strengths.
To start on the back-end, Philip Selway’s crisp, laminate-tight drumming propels what-could-easily-be a sleepy song into something with a light but potent rhythm to keep the listening if not grooving, swaying contentedly. With such a light mix, Colin’s bass is beautifully scarce, with slight embellishments laid down to hold the low-end while keeping that luscious levity. Of course, the primary focus of the song is the titularly arpeggiated guitar leads that are nothing less than sheer beauty — hearing them weave together with Thom’s airy vocals is like being entwined with nature itself; it’s utterly, totally transcendant music.
This week, we’re throwing up a complete curveball for ya in the form of the 2013’s Thank You, the albumless single from Busta Rhymes, featuring Q-Tip, Lil Wayne and Kanye West.
Okay, so it ain’t Scenario, that’s fair enough. Bringing together Busta, Tip, Yeezy and Weezy (doesn’t that sound like a perfect pair of twats (I mean, they are though)) was a big deal back in 2013, so it’s a bit of a surprise that this one has absolutely fallen off of the public consciousness. While I’m not exactly touting this as the pinnacle of hip-hop by writing about it today, there is a level of intrigue to it.
That intrigue primarily comes in the form of the quality — it ain’t that fucking bad, not at all. With collaborative production between the four artists (at least two of which are arguably the greatest producers in hip-hop history), the beat is expectedly, apart from the slight repetition, really rather good. The pounding kickdrums and piano samples are liable to get your head-bopping like the chair umpire in a game of vertical tennis, while the vintage chorus is only slightly spoiled by ‘Ye asinine ad-libs.
With Tweezy-dee and Yeezy-cunt’s vocal contributions limited to said ad-libs, the actual mic work is left to the Abstract and Busta who really do kill it. Although they’re obviously just fooling about in the studio here, there are many moments on this track where they’re really delivering top lines. Particularly, Busta’s second-to-last verse here has got some great quotables in “Boop-be-de-de-boff, zippity-boof” and “The microphone is bleeding, you should take it from me” — it’s not game-changing but it is a great bit of fun, which is probably the best way to describe this song as a whole.
With inflation, Dreaming is now about a fiver, sorry.
This week, our Song of the Week is classic track from New York’s Blondie, the vibrant Dreaming from 1979’s Eat to the Beat.
Much like their CBGB contemporaries in Ramones and Talking Heads, Blondie were notable for the injection of pop melodies into the punk formula, pioneering what we’d now call a smorgasbord of different genre labels — new-wave, pop-punk, power-pop etc etc…
While many of their songs employ this, it’s Dreaming that seems to personify what new-wave is. Boosted by Clem Burke’s hyperactive, perpetually-filled drumming (I swear, by this point, Clem Burke has been called underrated so many times that we can all just say he’s one of the best drummers ever now, surely?), the track has an undeniable pulse that’s sure to get even the most stubborn wallflowers on the floor. Over this, the weaving guitar and bass of Chris Stein and Nigel Harrison, respectively, creates this otherworldly tune, it seems more elevated than much of their previous work, of course this is helped by synth drones that float over the song like a guardian angel. Speaking of which, Debbie’s slightly-reverbed vocals sound like the final words of someone being raptured (ehhh) up into a state of total serenity.
Eponymously so, Dreaming has a sense of peace to it that, despite the aforementioned animalistic drumming, comes as a welcome respite to a lot of punk at the time — a time that was ravaged in political and economic turmoil all the same. While, for me, Blondie are far from the most consistent band of the era, songs like this, like Dreaming, remind me that, at their best, you really couldn’t get much better.
For me, someone whose life has been permeated by their music since día uno, the news that Foo Fighters will be turning 25 this month doesn’t really come as a surprise. If anything, it’s felt like longer, especially considering the sheer volume of pop culture-transcending anthems that they’ve packed in that time. However, for anyone who isn’t a mere fetus, that entire sentence and, indeed, the concept of 1995 being 25 years ago, will age you quicker than Walter Donovan.
Sure, in that time, a lot has happened; you can’t smoke in pubs, MTV has gone drastically downhill and blackface isn’t okay anymore (who knew?!?!?!). That said, the Foos music has always been a constant source of good vibes for any fan, even if they surprisingly divide opinion like they do (who’d’ve thought people didn’t like good vibes?). Anywhom, whether you’re the twiddling asshole who naysays anything post-Everlong, the Radio 1 vegetable who finds The Pretender a notch on the heavy side, or my own mother, whose personal fascination with Dave Grohl is bordering on Misery-levels, Foo Fighters has a song that’ll get you shout-singing-along regardless of drunkenness — here are 50 of their best.
50. Big Me (Foo Fighters, 1995)
Fittingly, we kick off with an early single, and one of their most beloved. Accompanied by a fun, light-hearted video, the song’s mellow groove and sugary melodies make for one of the band’s more pleasant, if decidedly tame, offerings.
49. Up In Arms (The Colour And The Shape, 1997)
Initially a sleepy make-out jam, the soft intro to Up In Arms quickly parts in favour of a rollicking power-pop storm. Taking nods from genre-stalwerts like Buzzcocks, as well as their pop-punk contemporaries at the time, the track is undeniably simple but an engrained head-bopper all the same.
48. Come Alive (Echoes, Silence, Patience & Grace, 2007)
Like a smattering of songs from Echoes, my personal favourite Foo Fighters album, Come Alive follows an easily identifiable structure, its acoustic-backed intro building into a dynamic, electric conclusion. However, while there is a predictability in that, Grohl’s ingenious flair of melodies and hooks makes it an enjoyable listen every time.
47. Something From Nothing (Sonic Highways, 2014)
Despite Sonic Highways‘ cheeky habit of riff-lifting (which is present here in the form of a particular Dio pastiche), lead single Something From Nothing, in all its heart-in-chest roaring, has, more than any other track on that release, that je-ne-sais-Foo which keeps it from the low lows the album reaches.
46. Run (Concrete & Gold, 2017)
Leading the proceedings for Concrete & Gold, it’s fair to say that Run, with its familiar structure and gnarly heaviness, was a very welcome return to form following the aforementioned Sonic Highways. The dreamy, delicate verses here are replaced with a filfffy, swaggering beast of a riff, while Taylor’s drumming throughout is varied and enthralling.
45. The Deepest Blues Are Black (In Your Honor, 2005)
An oft-derided track from an oft-derided Foos album, The Deepest Blues Are Black, while, like many songs from this era, not showcasing Dave’s strongest lyrical stylings, the swaying, ascending chord progression in the hook is very nice on the ear, especially when coupled with the frontman’s impassioned performance.
44. Stacked Actors (There Is Nothing Left To Lose, 1999)
Whether you love it or hate it, most fans can agree that there is not much out there that sounds like Stacked Actors in the band’s discography. While there isn’t much out of the ordinary in the chorus’ throttling guitars and pummelling snares, the verses carry a slinky, dare-I-say seductive, groove, with the dexterous bassline and Dave’s whispered vocals making me feel a little bit uncomfortable, but also not so uncomfortable that I wouldn’t rip a spleen out when the bridge hits.
43. Bridge Burning (Wasting Light, 2011)
Speaking of ripping a spleen out when Bridge hits (get it?), this cut from Wasting Light sports, and I say this completely sans-hyperbole, one of the century’s best rock intros. While the song goes all the way down to mediocrity after that point, the opening 45 seconds of this song — the hyping drum roll, the gritty, descending guitar lead, Dave’s air raid scream — rock music rarely gets better.
42. Dirty Water (Concrete & Gold, 2017)
One of the deepest cuts from Concrete & Gold, this song, for me, is one of the group’s defining tracks as a now-6-man outfit, with each member’s contribution (apart from Nate’s tragically under-mixed bass but that’s a rant for another day) being very prominent, notably Rami’s synths, which give the middle-8 an old-school-electro feel, over hard rock guitars, of course.
41. Let It Die (Echoes, Silence, Patience & Grace, 2007)
Admittedly similar structurally to the previously-mentioned Come Alive, it’s once again the catchy melodies of Let It Die that land it on this list. It seems like at this point in time, the band could come up with imaginative acoustic guitar compositions just by looking at one.
40. Floaty (Foo Fighters, 1995)
There aren’t many songs that sonically capture the feel of their title like Floaty does. The rolling rhythms and airy production make the song feel as light as a drifting feather, while the heavier guitars in the chorus give everything a bit of bite as well.
39. Free Me (In Your Honor, 2005)
From the audacious vocals in Free Me‘s opening moments, it’s evident that this album cut is taking very little prisoners. Taylor’s driving, busy drumming keeps a rapid pulse to this one, even in its quieter parts, while the building heaviness comes to an explosive head by the end.
38. Weenie Beenie (Foo Fighters, 1995)
Not to paint the debut as mellow by my previous entries on its tracks, Weenie Beenie is one of a few songs on the album that qualify among their heaviest ever. The city-levelling rhythm guitars, as well as the shredding lead that surfs over it, are just a small piece of the heavy metal puzzle that makes up this track, along with the indecipherable distorted screaming and the mammoth drums.
37. Hell (In Your Honor, 2005)
Alongside In Your Honor‘s title track, Hell has a military, call-to-arms quality to it. Be it Dave’s inspired, rallying vocals or Taylor’s snare-heavy drumming, it’s rousing material all the same. As the intro to the bulkier, if inferior, The Last Song, the hook of “See you in Hell” is a freeing one to be bellowing, I’m sure, and it’s, at the very least, a toe-tapping listen.
36. Exhausted (Foo Fighters, 1995)
Much like Floaty, Exhausted really does sonically encompass what its title is. With the blown-out, minor-key guitars, downbeat bass grooves and Dave’s light, resigned vocals, it’s for-sure one of the more Nirvana-esque moments on the debut. Even with its peppier passages peppered in piece-by-piece, the white noise in the negative space is effective like a rainy day.
35. Monkey Wrench (The Colour And The Shape, 1997)
A bona-fide fan favourite that I’m sure many people will be Up in Arms (eh??) to see so low on the list, Monkey Wrench is a defining piece of 90s alt rock, as well as a signature song for the band. The blazing-hot guitar leads, rapid-fire drum and sticky hooks all make for memorable Foo fare, with Dave’s venomous, one-breath tirade in the bridge being the stuff of legend. Anyone who says they can do it too is lying, even me, who often claims such a thing.
34. Wattershed (Foo Fighters, 1995)
We now get to the track that, alongside the delinquent Weenie Beenie, stands as the closest to hardcore the band ever strayed — and it’s pretty fucking close. Not to let the defined riffs and multiple parts fool you, this track has more in common with Bad Brains and Motörhead than any of their modern day stadium rock peers.
33. Walk (Wasting Light, 2011)
While I’m plenty aware that this is Foo Fighters at the “reach for the stars”, arena-bothering ‘worst’, I’m absolutely not going to be the weiner-beiner that decries it as ‘lame’ (even though it is) and turn my nose up (even though I love doing that). At the end of the day, Walk, with its clichés and uncoolness, is an inspiring song with great, catchy, well-produced instrumental and energetic performances. Absolutely pull your head out of your hole if you think otherwise.
32. This Is A Call (Foo Fighters, 1995)
And so we come to their flagship single, the one launched Foo Fighters (with a considerable Kurt-Cobain-shaped launchpad, not to mention) into alternative darlinghood. Saying that, it would be remiss to chock down the success of This Is A Call to post-Nirvana-adoration disorder, as the danceable alt rock vibes of the track are infectious from the offset. Furthermore, Dave’s progressing, introspective (if sometimes nonsensical) lyrics mark the perfect changing point in the man’s life.
31. DOA (In Your Honor, 2005)
Vastly underrated in the realm of Foo singles, DOA is a tried-and-true alternative rock banger, with a great, almost-indie-like, guitar lead. Taylor’s dynamic drumming, ranging from pounding toms in the verse and excessive hi-hat fiddlery in the chorus, is great bit of sonic levity, showcasing the level of stylistic range the sticksman can boast.
A sleepy ballad among the pack of Echoes, there was a time where I would consider naming Statues my favourite album cut from the band. While those days are behind us, the piano-led track feels like a geniune tribute to soft rock icons like Eagles or Billy Joel. Now, while I’m not hear to sing the praises of either of those weak-ass acts (not to say I don’t bop Hotel California on the DL), Foo Fighters take that format and, with it, craft a poignant rumination on ordinary people’s place in time — a thematic well that Dave can take from endlessly, and still produce classics.
29. In Your Honor (In Your Honor, 2005)
As earlier mentioned, In Your Honor, the title track from 2005’s wildly inconsistent if somewhat underrated LP of the same name, is a rallying piece of gargantuan arena rock, delivered with all the overwhelming gusto that you could imagine from that description. Dave’s vocals are at an 11 for the whole thing, while the marching band drums and lightning guitars where just made to be played from the highest mountain or rooftop you could find. It’s just a massive moment, topped off by one of the frontman’s most vibrant howls to date.
28. I’ll Stick Around (Foo Fighters, 1995)
Although the amount of articles, comments and general evidence that touts Dave Grohl as “the nicest man in rock music”, it’s not impossible to find proof towards the contrary. His cold-blooded erasure of original drummer William Goldsmith aside, 1995’s I’ll Stick Around, supposedly (and transparently, no matter what he says) written about Courtney Love, has a through-taking-shit attitude in its lyrics that is only matched by the riff-ready, mosh-mandatory instrumental.
27. These Days (Wasting Light, 2011)
Another huge fan favourite, as well as another that is instantly improved upon when you’re part of a 80,000 strong backing choir to it, These Days, one of the more blatantly quietLOUD tracks in their discography, has a cathartic sing-a-long chorus that, despite it not being my absolute favourite song, will absolutely give me those chills that only this band can.
26. Generator (There Is Nothing Left To Lose, 1999)
Coming in at the eve of the millenium, Generator, more than any other song on There Is Nothing Left To Lose, feels like a product of its time. Whether its the watery guitar tone, alt rock chord progressions or the surprisingly effective use of talk box throughout, there’s a nostalgia (or, in my case, anemoia) to it that’s both comforting and boppable.
Of course, we’ve got some more balls-to-the-wall tom-Foo-lery in Erase/Replace, a song that makes no bones about being an enthusiastically colourful arena rock cut. Everything about this track is jumbo-sized, with slow, pronounced drum fills, an almost laughably exuberant lead vocal and a guitar lead that could bring down an airship. Even the supposedly “quiet” bridge on this thing has been mixed within an inch of its life to stand 10,000ft tall.
24. Arrows (Concrete & Gold, 2017)
My personal favourite from Concrete & Gold, Arrows stands alone as one of the best Foo Fighters songs of the past decade. While retaining all of the high-stakes power that the band has injected into much of their modern day output, the song feels both modern in its cleaner production and classic in that it contains one of Grohl’s best choruses since One By One.
23. White Limo (Wasting Light, 2011)
Another track that would’ve been higher up on this list in a past life, White Limo, in an era where Foos were *explicitly* not doing the heavy stuff anymore, is the heaviest song in their catalogue. With guitars that are more overdriven than a nine-year-old Nike manufacturer and drums packing a Saitama-level punch, the song goes like a rusted hot rod with a rocket engine, and ends in a similarly explosive conclusion.
22. My Poor Brain (The Colour And The Shape, 1997)
Almost universally seen as their strongest album, The Colour And The Shape absolutely packs some of the Foos’ strongest deep cuts. One of the strongest is the unapologetically noisy My Poor Brain, a track that opens on pure racket, calms down for a brief minute and then is all go from that point on. Furthermore, somewhat in keeping with the song’s title, Grohl’s lyrics here are dishevelled, surreal but ultimately quotable — “Sometimes I feel I’m getting stuck/Between the handshake and the fuck” anyone?
21. My Hero (The Colour And The Shape, 1997)
Once again we have a legitmate anthem on our hands — it’s almost like they’ve got fuckin’ aplenty. Of course, you know My Hero; you know that iconic drum pattern, the chant-a-long chorus, the amazingly celebratory lyrics. Dave’s ode to the everyman remains a working class tribute and, while Grohl has had far from a working class existence for the majority of his life, it’s somewhat touching to see one of the biggest rock bands in the world tout it as a signature song. A nice guy!
20. The Pretender (Echoes, Silence, Patience & Grace, 2007)
Yeah, it’s pretty safe to assume at this point that from this point forward, it’s all untouchable bangers — the big bois. Being my introduction to the band, this is everything a six-year-old needs in a rock band — big guitar bits, catchy chorus, cool fucking dudes. A sheer stroke of genius from the entire band really, it’s the peak of when Foo Fighters really did become one of the biggest bands on the planet.
19. Halo (One By One, 2002)
Often dismissed by fans, critics and even the band themselves as their worst album, it’s songs like this that really show why One By One is most definitely worth your time. Despite his personal demons at the time, Taylor’s drumming is still remarkably unique, crafting a whole new rhythm to the guitars and bass. Melodically blissful, the chorus and, particularly, the powerful bridge are like seratonin rivers to my ears — it’s golden songwriting.
18. Resolve (In Your Honor, 2005)
Admittedly, I am known to chuckle when I hear the plodding “duh-nuh-nuh-nuh-nuh-nuh-nuh” that opens this otherwise classeeek Foos track; it’s heavy-handed to say the least. It should say something, then, that, despite that, it remains in the top 20 songs they ever done did! Of course, this is down to the diamond songwriting throughout this one, with an infectious, feelgood chorus and a gentle, accessible rhythm.
17. Good Grief (Foo Fighters, 1995)
With mile-a-minute drums and ripping, power-pop guitars, something about Good Grief makes me wanna boot up a Playstation and get on some vintage Pro Skater vibes. It shows that, even on their debut, the band have always been about straightforward, fun rock music, not worrying about subversion or acting out, but also not compromising on noisiness or being too pop — it just is what it wants to be, and Good Grief really encapsulates that to me.
16. Enough Space (The Colour And The Shape, 1997)
One of my favourite heavy Foos cuts, Enough Space just bleeds volume from the very get-go, of course taking a break for that quiet verse (this is Foo Fighters we’re talking about), which has slinky lil bassline, as groovy as it is kind of menacing. However, it’s that nuclear chorus and bridge that just screams (quite literally) furious unfuckwitabilty; it’s riling and savage.
15. Stranger Things Have Happened (Echoes, Silence, Patience & Grace, 2007)
Taking it down a decided notch, Stranger Things Have Happened, quite possibily the most lowkey Foo Fighters track (at least outside of In Your Honor‘s godawful second disc), is remarkably solid acoustic cut. Packing an instantly engrained main riff, there’s an organic feel to it that oozes homemade charm. At the same time, though, it’s pristinely produced and mixed, something that, on such a barebones track, works lengths and wonders in its favour.
14. Rope (Wasting Light, 2011)
In my mind, the last true “classic” that the band put out, Rope, from the first chord, has that magic that makes Foo Fighters songs so transcendently great. That said, it also remains one of their oddest songs, with weird, syncopated-sounding guitar leads in the verses that give way to catchy and poppy chorus. In paying tribute to bands like Rush, the band added a touch of prog to the song, making it a beautiful oddity in the process.
13. Home (Echoes, Silence, Patience & Grace, 2007)
The closing track of Echoes, Home is heart-wrenching solo piano ballad with Dave at the forefront. The lyrics, dealing with the very human longing to be home, are specific enough to feel directed at you personally, while also vague enough that anyone can feel that, in a way that I think only a handful of people on the planet are able to relate. Instrumentally, the piano playing, while relatively rudimentary, is emotive and swelling, especially as the strings and other backing come in for the finale.
12. Best Of You (In Your Honor, 2005)
There’s not much to say about Best of You that either hasn’t been said before, or that you can get from just listening to it. Easily one of the most upper echelon rock songs of the 21st century, it’s a relatable song, with a powerful instrumental and a guttural vocal performance. Hate it for its repetition? Valid, sure, but there’s a spark in it that touches millions of people, and that has to count for something.
11. But Honestly (Echoes, Silence, Patience & Grace, 2007)
A seemingly inconspicuous deep cut, everything comes together with But Honestly, for me. Structurally similar to countless songs on Echoes, the merits of this song lies solely in the melodies – I swear, he’s just the best at them. In the bridge of this song, the building chords, ramped up by the anticipatory drums, are enough to get you hair-raisingly hyped for the eruptive closer of the song, with harmonic solos a-plenty. Widdily-diddily.
10. Low (One By One, 2002)
Offensively underrated, Low is far-and-away Foo Fighters’ nastiest song, in all the right ways. Grottily reflected in the video (one of their best), the suffocating, distorted guitars and bass, especially when coupled with the frantic drumming, is effortlessly ominous. This is doubled when taking into account Dave’s uncharacteristically subdued vocals. If there was ever a song to make a case for Foo Fighters being filthy bastids, this would be the one.
9. Alone + Easy Target (Foo Fighters, 1995)
Ever since I first heard it, Alone + Easy Target has been my favourite song off the debut by some distance. It personifies the record perfectly; the grimy post-grunge guitars still reverberating from Nevermind, but with an uplifting aura that defies Grohl’s past. It’s straight-forward, yes, but in its simplicity, the band (or basically just Dave) has enough room to really let the song breathe.
8. Lonely As You (One By One, 2002)
Here we, are, on the brink of the proper GOD-like tracks, and what better wattershed to this than my favourite album cut the band ever put out. Befuddingly not a single, Lonely As You boasts, while maybe not their catchiest song, some of Dave’s strongest ever songwriting. The chugging verses, the descending choruses, everything is on the downturn. The song ends on one of my favourite yelled vocals from Dave Grohl or otherwise. It’s a slow burner, in terms of Foos songs anyway, but it’s rarely topped.
7. Breakout (There Is Nothing Left To Lose, 1999)
Now we’re here, the best of the best. Movie tie-ins often bring out the best in artists; I mean Aerosmith and Smash Mouth *chef’s kiss*, c’mon. However, with Breakout being tied into Me, Myself & Irene literally has no significance whatsoever (why mention it then (shut up)). Coming off an album widely seen as their softest, Breakout is in there, 2 songs in, to chew up the furniture and leave threatening lipstick messages on all the walls — it’s a rabid dog of a song, with a great hook and, as ever, a killer Grohl performance.
6. Long Road To Ruin (Echoes, Silence, Patience & Grace, 2007)
Up until very recently, this ode to melodrama was my favourite Foo Fighters song — period. While that may not be the case anymore, this underrated classic (with an also underrated video) is the band at their soft rock best. Not to say that they don’t still make some noise, but there’s a vintage ear for tune on this one that’d be just as at home on some kind of easy listening album from the 70s. Sure, the rocket-powered solo and thrashing drums might be a little out of place.
5. Learn To Fly (There Is Nothing Left To Lose, 1999)
You don’t get more fan favourite than Learn To Fly. Not a heavy metal track by any means, this mid-paced rocker, with its giant guitar sound and lyrical “flying” motifs, was made for alt rock radio. With a silly but often-gigglesome video to boot, there’s an inoffensiveness to Learn To Fly that’s actually quite nice; there’s no posturing, no edge, just a catchy pop song about flying that happens to be really fucking great.
4. Times Like These (One By One, 2002)
A song so universally adored that people have been horrifically covering it in lockdown (I say that, I haven’t actually seen any of them, I social distanced the fuck away from that), Times Like These house possibly Grohl’s most adored sets of lyrics, ones that are admittedly quite poignant in this lockdowny bullshit era of bastards (as it’ll be known). The staggered drums and new wave-ish lead solo embellish what is a pure peach of tune, it’s the band at their relatable best.
3. No Way Back (In Your Honor, 2005)
Surprisingly few people talk about No Way Back, a prominant single for In Your Honor, when mentioning the untouchably fantastic Foo Fighters tracks. This is a pity, as you can see, because it’s an indescribably feelgood romp. The breakneck instrumental, which eases up precisely nil throughout the runtime, is adrenaline pumping and smile-inducing. As the song gets to the chorus, though, it’s that warm, comforting chord progression that just gives me chills whenever I listen to it. For an extra lil treat, hunt out the live cut that they did for Wembley ’08 — ’tis gorgeous.
2. Everlong (The Colour And The Shape, 1997)
In a move that shocks literally no-one, Everlong makes to the top three. Joking aside, there’s a reason that this remains Foo Fighters’ signature showstopper. I mean where to start, the drumming is fiery and energetic, while the guitars are played so dynamically throughout and Dave’s vocals perfectly capture the idyllic beauty of the song. Even forgetting the incredible music video, immortalised lyrics and unfathomable kinetic energy in the track, the tune at the heart of it is simply stunning. It’s this concept — crafting a melody that pierces into the heart of the listener — that has kept Dave Grohl in the business of making beloved rock music for 25 years now.
1. All My Life (One By One, 2002)
However, when all is said and done, there’s not a Foo Fighters song, nary many a song that’s ever been written, that’ll have me flipping my total shit like this one. A gutter-bound rager of a track from beginning to end, this is what hard rock should look like. Crashing cymbals, crunchy guitars, a rock-solid bassline and Dave Grohl being the most charismatic motherfucker to ever make a hit about going down on the ladies (because of course that’s his favourite — nicest guy in rock). While there is a cuddliness to Foo Fighters that makes them so approachable nowadays, and I have a huge amount of emotional attachment to pretty much every song on this list, it’s crucial to remember that these guys are a rock band — and they have rocked as hard as anyone you’ve ever heard: this is the proof.
There we have it, the Top 50 Foo Fighters songs that ever done did be, compiled by someone who loves them with an intenseness only matched by their love of Thatchers Gold and chatting shit. Over the few times I’ve made this list over the years, it’s always been ever-shifting and the hardest to compile. So, if you have any Foo tracks I’ve missed, or any thoughts in general, keep them to yourself, yeah? This took me fucking ages.
This week, we’re taking it all the way back to one of the all-time great vocal groups, with Four Tops and 1966’s Reach Out I’ll Be There.
If we’re all being totally honest, you don’t need me to tell you anything about this song that it doesn’t tell you itself. There are number of songs, especially from this period, that just transcend critique or comment. Pioneers of that classic Motown sound, the Four Tops have a class and sauvity that you just don’t get anymore, at risk of sounding like an old grandad. With tracks like Reach Out, you get that kind of rich, warming sound that can universally bring a smile to anyone’s face.
From the perfectly-crafted vocal harmonies to the crisp, unencumbered mix, the composition of the song is Holland-Dozier-Holland through and through, with this galloping, determined beat characterising the lyrical strive, as well as giving the song an energetic pulse. This is matched by Levi Stubbs massively-empassioned lead vocals, which, at points, errs even on shouting; that’s how much the man put into this, you can near hear the strain in his voice. That said, it doesn’t hinder the technical ability of the singer in the slightest, only serving to further sell the fire of the track. Duke, Obie and Lawrence also add to this Reach Out‘s iconic elements, their angelic, soaring backing vocals contrasting the hugely-masculine “HUH!”s that herald in the verses, because calling them ‘grunts’ would only injustice the sheer polish of the whole production.
As the song fades out, the fantastical woodwind melodies seep back into the mix, only adding to mysticism of such an untouchable soul masterpiece.
As the desert rock scene reached its fever pitch in the 90s’ final moments, from the ashes of the genre’s pioneering force, Kyuss, rose Queens of the Stone Age, led by lead guitarist Josh Homme, with a debut album branching the roaring distortion of his previous band to a keen melody owing more toward alternative and hard rock.
While that album remains a classic for stoner rock, and a cracking listen to this day, what they followed it up with blew the whole thing wide open. In 2000, Queens of the Stone Age released Rated R, their sophomore album, labelled on the cover as “Restricted to everyone, everywhere, all the time”. With the eerie The Lost Art Of Keeping A Secret and Feel Good Hit Of The Summer‘s devilish ode to narcotics preceding it, it was hard to argue with that disclaimer. What the album contained launched QOTSA to mainstream attention, kickstarting a career as one of the best rock bands in the world. 20 years later, however, Rated R remains an album undeniably worthy of revisiting — shall we do that right now? Yes, that what this is.
Kicking the album off in throttling fashion is the aforementioned Feel Good Hit Of The Summer, a song that is as simple as it is brazenly debauched. Inspired by Homme trying to recollect what he had taken on a particularly lively New Year’s Eve, the laundry list of illicit substances in the verses is capped off by a choral chant of “c-c-c-c-c-cocaine!“, so it really tells you everything you need to know about the group up to this point. Much like its lyrical content, the repetitive structure of the track makes it endlessly addictive, helped of course by a degenerate solo in the mid-point.
Left with a smattering of charred bones from the last track, The Lost Art Of Keeping A Secret is quick to let you know that Rated R is not an album of 2-minute fireballs, but also one that packs genuine masterstrokes of songwriting too. For many, QOTSA’s debut into the public image, it’s hard to think of a better introduction than those relentlessly chugging guitars giving way to Homme’s ghostly falsetto on the hook. The rhythm section is driving and paced, lending itself to the “sleep with one eye open” feel of the song, mirrored in the paranoid, distrusting lyrics. Fun fact, too, we’ve got none other than Judas Priest’s Rob Halford on the backing vocals for this one — because fuckin’ why not?
The first non-single to grace the tracklist, Leg Of Lamb is immediately ear-grabbing with its stop-start percussion, pitched, entwined guitars and noodling bassline. There’s something about this one, be it the constant triplets of dulling tambourine, Homme’s surreal, slightly violent lyrics, or the twitchy solo (one of the guitarist’s best to this day), that feels like being indoctrinated into some kind of desert cult — not that I’d need much convincing if this was what they were pounding out.
Auto Pilot follows this, a Nick Oliveri-helmed cut that, despite its far-fetched lyrical content, feels wearily grounded — like being in a K-hole at 5am, as the sun begins to rise and the ruins of the sesh are illuminated before your bloodshot eyes. The moaning guitar leads on this one, especially as they begin to ascend at the song’s close, really heighten the potency of what is, generally, a subdued, spun-out affair, showing the emotional range this album successfully pulls off.
Clocking in at almost 6 minutes, Better Living Through Chemistry, one of the album’s longest tracks, is a sunstricken traveller of a song. The tribal drums in the intro, backing an ethereal, fuzzy guitar lead, give it an otherworldly feel, distinctly separating it from the crushingly heavy mid-point. A dizzying riff and busy drumline spike here, with Homme’s echoed backed vocals once again lending a nigh-on spiritual aura to the rocking. The whole thing comes together like being greeted by the ghost of Jimi Hendrix while lost in the desert.
One of the many enduring tunes from Rated R, Monsters In The Parasol, written about a rather bad trip Homme experienced during his first time on acid, is still busted out at live shows presently (well not *right now* because of the whole live music being dead, but you know what I mean), to great effect. And it’s no wonder — with the pounding drums backing up what is undisputedly a hooky, kooky (it doesn’t rhyme they just look the same) banger. The driving verses and choruses being punctuated by frights of jagged guitars. Moreover, this song also houses perhaps the greatest transitional bit in QOTSA history, with the refrains of “She won’t grow/She won’t grow/She won’t grow” being instrumentally backed by these twisty arpeggios devolving into near-neanderthalic strikes on a killer chord progression — it’s good stuff.
Following that is one of two Oliveri-led ragers in the track, with Quick And To The Pointless; a song that barely scrapes a minute-and-a-half and brings back the reckless energy of the opening song and then some. Oliveri wails like a decrepit, perverted meth-head over an instrumental matched in both menace and violence. What brings it full-circle, however, is the schoolgirl backing vocals and handclaps that litter the background like a playground full of junkies.
In the most sobering moment of the LP, Mark Lanegan puts in the first of many lead vocals for the band with In the Fade. Lyrically about the crushing dependency that these drugs — the same ones that Feel Good Hit were shooting with glee (only fitting that it is concluded with a reprise of that very song) — can inflict. The delayed guitar lead on this one is beautiful in its understatement, while the rhythm section, particularly the bass, adds a surprising groove to the ordeal. As we hit the chorus, a smothering weight drowns the atmosphere in tension, like a wave of fear and doubt. It remains both an untouchable high point for Rated R and one of my personal favourite QOTSA songs to date.
Of course, then we have the second slice of bread in Nick’s nightmare sandwich, lovingly made with pure hate. With a staggering guitar lead and rustling percussion, Tension Head, once again defined by the bassist’s banshee-esque screams of vitriol, is a class in how to be utterly nasty and effortlessly cool at the same time. It’s a track that truly takes no prisoners which, being about heroin, is probably an apt description.
Preceded by the spacey Lightning Song, an instrumental with an inherently psychedelic, exotic flair, we then have I Think I Lost My Headache, the album’s closer. An eight-and-a-half-minute beast of a track, the song is primarily instrumental, with small sections of vocals where they can find the space in the chokingly-dense sonic landscape. The drums crash and thump throughout, with the fuzz-laden riffs landing one mammoth blow after an another; it’s not for the faint of heart. Also not for the faint of heart is the album’s closing minute-or-so, which consists of a looping passage of the accelerating main riff accompanied by punishingly abrasive trumpets, of all things. The album ends on a torturously abstract horn section devolving into a series of toots — what a treat.
Overall, Rated R is rightly, if not without stern competition, heralded as one of Queens of the Stone Age’s greatest releases; a thematic, cohesive temptress of a hard rock album, with a conceptual aptitude almost a strong as the thunderous riffs that make up the majority. The songwriting here is deftly varied, with moods ranging from Super Hans on his stag-do to lying face down in the beating-hot desert, erring on the side of hallucination. While QOTSA today are undeniably a different band from the one that released this, it goes to show that, even just six months into the decade, Joshy & Co were able to produce one of the 2000’s defining rock albums, not to mention one of the best.
9.
best tracks:In The Fade, The Lost Art Of Keeping A Secret, Monsters In The Parasol, Quick And To The Pointless, Auto Pilot, Leg Of Lamb, Tension Head, Feel Good Hit Of The Summer
You ask me if I’ll write you an article? Itsautomatic…
This week, we are (finally) getting to the first of many Prince features on SOTW. It’s Automatic from the iconic 1999.
Alright, sure, the music video quickly devolves into all kinds of early-80s purple bananas, but Automatic is still one of the strongest tracks on the already beefy 1999. Immediately, the intergalactic synths and high-pitched drones evoke pure Gary Numan vibes. However, Prince’s deft use of the drum machine balances that roboticness with a very human funkiness that parallels the lyrics uncannily. These allusions between the mechanic and the sexual provide just another dimension to Prince’s full-throttle sexuality in this period, while his stuttered vocal inflections are like not just a bed shaking, but glitching.
Of course, like many of his best tracks, we get a smutty spoken word section in the bridge of this thing, with lyrics that’d sound laughable coming from anyone else. There’s something about Prince’s charisma that can pull off the most self-serious attempts of sexiness with ease — I’m buying it, a little too easily, you might say. This translates into the conclusion of the track, with Lisa’s S&M break coinciding with guitar wailing that, I think, can be appropiately described as orgasmic — at risk of being gross. This is before going straight back into party mode with those four-to-the-floor 808s, rounding out almost 10 minutes of Prince at his most debauched.
The Lovell sisters impress with their fifth record.
Larkin Poe is back with their fifth release, just two years after their Grammy-nominated Venom & Faith. Self Made Man clocks in a mere half-hour like before and wastes not a single second, packed to the brim with refreshing exuberance.
You will be hard-pressed to find a more aptly named album. The sister-duo’s self-produced record comes alongside a series of homemade live streams and music videos, just months after a successful world tour. It is a stunning display of marked confidence too, flying the flag high for women in blues.
“Like a cannonball, moving down the track/Baby’s on her way, she ain’t coming back“. Right from the get-go, the title track resonates with full-on attitude. As much as the riffage is loud, it’s not just pure spunk. Megan and Rebecca Lovell know exactly how to complement each other with perfect harmonies of their vocals and multiple instruments.
There is no staying still from there on. The barrage of infectious hooks makes sure of it, be it with a catchy riff off Holy Ghost Fire or clap-along on Keep Diggin’. The guitar-driven record seems made for the live arena, inviting its audience to sing aloud and move to its every note.
Standout moments are aplenty, but perhaps the best comes in Back Down South. Guitarist Tyler Bryant – partner to one half of Larkin Poe – joins in on the brilliant track, tipping their hat to their musical roots, including Little Richard by name. The tribute goes on, bringing new life to Blind Willie Johnson’s God Moves on the Water at mid-mark.
It is evident that Larkin Poe draws deep on the golden era of blues despite their distinctive contemporary sound, especially on the broodier tracks. The raw spirit of the delta blues remains ever-present not just musically, but in their lyrical flair. Channelling their musical heroes, they have several compelling tales to tell through their music, including that of the hard-living Ex-con and the soul-swiping Danger Angel.
Undulating between past and present, the pair finds their own voice in thundering riffs and the lap steel twang. Self Made Man is perfect testament to the duo’s faithfulness to their influences, while never tethering themselves to expectations.
repress. 