This California desert band live up their title, as they give us both the pop and the rock. The Queens of the Stone age craft a slice of metallic fudge-funk about living in an anesthisized society in a Big Brother world. Like the Geraman oompah march-step music of the verses, they fall in line, but--like Charlie Rich and his woman--when they get behind closed doors, they not only get jiggy wit' it, they let it all hang out, and they get their freak on...their Middle Eastern freak on.
That's significant, 'cause this one made the top 50, and Josh Homme sounds like he's chanting some Islamic mantra in the chorus, which was a pretty daring move in 2002. The song rocks, too, with Homme and Lanegan and Oliveri thrashing out some Slayer-like riffs in the chorus, while Dave Grohl--in his this-album-only stint with the Queens--not only brings the bang and the rock as he thunders around the toms, but he also brings some funk, too, especially in the verses, his snare popping on and around the backbeat like he was Benny Benjamin. With Grohl in tow, the Queens not only rock the house, but they also house the rock, making a raucous song that you can slam and dance to.
Swallow those pills, Mark Ronson.
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