buzz is entirely accurate. Not only do I buy the hype surrounding
Wolfmother, I would invest several thousand shares. This Australian
trio will probably receive some sort of critical correction in the
coming months to reign in their pre-ordained status as the next big
thing, but it’s not coming from me. On the strength of its self-titled
full-length debut, Wolfmother should become the first band since
Soundgarden and Tool in the early ’90s to capture the hearts and minds
of hipsters and heshers in equal measure. It’s that good.
influences are unmistakable. Wolfmother are experienced. They are iron
men. Their time is gonna come. And they’re obviously not the first rock
band to go down these roads. If listening to a Jet or Lenny Kravitz
album becomes a parlor game of name that classic-rock artist, the
members of Wolfmother bring their own riffs, style and attitude to
every last song. Yes, they are like Zeppelin, in that both are awesome.
The various formulas have been tweaked enough so that they have their
own signature style — call it psychedelicock-rock.
Singer/banshee Andrew Stockdale has the pipes of Robert Plant, the hair and energy of Cedric Bixler,
and the premature but knowing egocentricity of Jack White circa 2002.
Drummer Myles Heskett provides the requisite power and precision to the
proceedings. And thank God for Chris Ross: His bass and organ work
gives Wolfmother its exquisite heaviness.
In the age of wisenhiemer blogs and Best Week Ever, Wolfmother
is irony-proof classic rock. The exuberance, meticulous songcraft and
sheer balls of a song such as “White Unicorn” put me in the strange,
unfamiliar position of not caring that I dig a song called “White
Unicorn.” Unlike the Darkness or Eagles of Death Metal,
these guys don’t think this shit is funny, and instead of making them
ripe for mockery, it makes Wolfmother that much more respectable.
the best compliment is that listening to Wolfmother’s album made me
jealous of the kids lucky enough to turn sixteen in 2006, driving their
first cars, heading out to Friday night high school football games and
to keggers afterward, driving down Main Street and blaring Wolfmother from their speakers. This will be their soundtrack, and it will serve them well.