By Benjamin Leatherman
By Glenn BurnSilver
By Glenn BurnSilver
By Troy Farah
By Roger Calamaio
By Mark Deming
By Glenn BurnSilver
By Brian Palmer
To the Center
Duuuuuuude! "Please do not call Nebula 'Stoner Rock,'" begs the press materials for the Los Angeles band's first full-length. There are a few variations on the stoner rock theme, so let's be specific. Among the subgenres, there are the "only sounds good when high" hippie jam bands such as Phish, post-rave come-down electronica, the German import-only albums of David Hasselhoff, and the sounds of the Queens of the Stone Age/Kyuss camp -- where Nebula (all ex-Fu Manchu guys) fits.
The cover of the longhaired power trio's debut album is a fisheye lens shot of the group's gear set up in the cracked earth desert. Musically, Nebula owes much to Sabbath and the Stooges (even covering the latter's "I Need Somebody") and the psychedelic roar of Blue Cheer. They even do a song called "Fields of Psilocybin" on Center. A gong is struck on the opening song. Yep, this is music for and by people who smoked pot in their Camaros before homeroom, clad in jean jackets with Led Zeppelin patches on the back.
That's not to ghettoize or make claims about the lack of intelligence of the group; there is more to them than mere stoner rock. They're a Sub Pop band and know how to work the punk and grunge angles. Mark Arm of the late Mudhoney sings on the Stooges cover, and they occasionally pick up the tempos to near-punk speeds, and Nebula revels in the straightforward power chords of Seattle's finest. But this kind of metal all comes back to the low end. Nebula bassist Mark Abshire has a steady, sludgy bass sound, and he follows the root chords without bogging songs down. Instead, it gives drummer Ruben Romano room to step off the beat, like Animal from the Muppets, bashing away in his own oblivion. The main weapon is guitarist/vocalist Eddie Glass, who provides the most interesting, psychedelic jam moments, particularly when he busts out in a long, winding solo.
Take the mini-epic "Freedom." It's drummer Romano who plays the sitar (yes, some rock bands still play the sitar) and the tribal tattoo opening, but it's Glass who makes the journey mystic. Singing lyrics like "Into the rays of the rising sun, you'll find your freedom," he erupts in a double-tracked, space-rock solo with the wah-wah guitar in one speaker and the quick, bluesy licks coming out of the other. And that's all before the sitar joins in or the drum and bass solo. It's a trip, man.
Like the rise of Nashville Pussy and Monster Magnet -- hell, even Rob Zombie -- groups like Nebula, Fu Manchu, and the Queens of the Stone Age show that there is still plenty of room for bands who appeal to those who never really got rid of the Camaro. Smoking permitted. -- David Simutis
There Is Nothing Left to Lose
It's not hard to imagine that Dave Grohl was happiest recording the Foo Fighters' self-titled 1995 debut, if only because he was allowed to do almost everything himself. Two albums later, he's still trying to do it all, or at least that's how it seems, as members stick around only long enough to leave. The band has already gone through three guitarists and two drummers, and you get the feeling that bassist Nate Mendel continues to hang around because he's the only one who can play his instrument better than Grohl thinks he can. For example, Grohl rerecorded all the drum parts on 1997's The Colour and the Shape before then-drummer William Goldsmith had even left. And more than likely, guitarist Franz Stahl (the second in a series) split for much the same reason, since Grohl handles all the guitars on There Is Nothing Left to Lose.
While it's difficult to argue with Grohl's decision to erase Goldsmith's drums from The Colour and the Shape -- he does, after all, belong among the great rock drummers, a combination of Keith Moon's arms and John Bonham's kick-drum leg -- it's much easier to pick apart his choice to record all of the guitar parts on There Is Nothing Left to Lose. The problem is that he plays guitar like a drummer, rhythmic and precise, which worked when it was paired with Pat Smear's intentionally sloppy chords on The Colour and the Shape, usually the exact opposite of whatever Grohl was playing. Left to his own devices (which include a vocoder that weaves its way through "Generator") here, Grohl proves he can carry the melody by himself, but he needs a second pair of hands to take it anywhere. Only on "Headwires" and "Generator" does he really come close to matching what Smear contributed to the group -- the kind of push and shove that requires a second guitar, instead of merely someone there playing the same riff louder.
Still, Smear's absence isn't as noticeable as the presence of Grohl's record collection. You don't have to listen closely to catch "Headwires" stealing one of Gary Numan's "Cars," or "Gimme Stitches" confirming that Grohl learned how to play guitar when he was keeping Bad Company; There Is Nothing Left to Lose is less influential than influenced. Which doesn't make it any different from The Colour and the Shape, except it gets a different answer from the punk + AOR equation that Grohl learned from Kurt Cobain. But it all adds up on "Generator," which is as close to Peter Frampton in the studio with The Undertones as anyone would ever need to hear. If only Grohl could learn how to subtract as well. -- Zac Crain