There have been those disparate, wayward young souls caught in the web of a throwback after hearing something from the fruitful days of “Classic Rock.” Who can forget the Black Crowes in the early 90s, whose stake in retro rock was both derivative and refreshing. Out of Australia, in the late 90s and into the 2000s, you got bands like Jet, the Vines and Wolfmother — each offering their own recycled rants with mixed results. It all sounded so good, but many of the bands became slaves to the form, leaving little wiggle room to expand and grow. This is what sets Rival Sons and their fourth album, Great Western Valkyrie, apart from their predecessors.
I can say from firsthand experience that the concept and development of Rival Sons is a vision guitarist Scott Holiday has nurtured with extreme care to detail and style. I had the privilege of working with Holiday on an early bio for Rival Sons before they made their first record, and he had definite ideas of what he wanted the band to achieve. He wasn’t necessarily thinking in terms of becoming the next big ‘Classic Rock” band — his idea, as he explained it to me, was to transcend his influences. “We’re not trying to emulate them as much as we’re trying to emote the things they’ve made us feel.”
That was seven years ago, and by all accounts he and Rival Sons have succeeded with Great Western Valkyrie. The signature guitar tones have transformed from fuzzy ornaments into a full range of sharp twists, turns and leaps, awash in reverb and backmasking at times, smooth and understated, framing the measures for singer Jay Buchanan to firmly hang his soulful melodies on. You add the thunderous Moonish/ Bonhamish drumming of Michael Miley and the wrap-around bass lines of the band’s newest recruit, Dave Beste, and you get a sense listening to Great Western Valkyrie that this is a band rising to the defining moment of a fourth album (not counting EPs and singles) — a moment that distinguished bands like Led Zeppelin (think Led Zeppelin IV) and the Who (think Tommy) from the packs of others striving for the crown.
Great Western Valkyrie begins with a simple, straightforward rocker. “Electric Man” cries out with an element of surprise, depending on where your speakers are situated. Thanks to producer Dave Cobb’s warm and fuzzy analog ears, the panning effects amass in a slab of sparkly riffery, laying out the canvases and giving Buchanan the space he needs to explore his inner soul and “take you to the Sugar Shack.” “Good Luck” lifts off in a similar fashion but settles into a weary groove as Buchannan laments lost love with a whimsical send off worthy of redemption.
“Secret” and “Play The Fool” are ride-along stompers, while “Good Things” is an easy, bluesy stroll through the land of possibilities (“Enjoy it right now…Because you never know when it’s gonna end”). There’s little doubt the opening salvo of “Open My Eyes” boasts a striking resemblance to “When The Levee Breaks” before it morphs into a mild and musky declaration. “The Rich And The Poor” roams the landscape like a dark stranger out of a Raymond Chandler hardboiled crime novel (or a Sergio Leone spaghetti western) walking into a neighborhood dive, yet it’s love story with the odd refrain: “I’m gonna show you how babies are made…”
The set up is ready for “Belle Star,” an exotic fireball, brimming over with Zeppelinesque flourishes of backmasking and pyrotechnics. You’ll be lost for thought as the melody tumbles down a lonely lane of heartache. Buchanan unapologetically tugs at the heartstrings of melancholy as he unfolds the tale of a well-worn lover feeling unfit of unrequited affection. Stripped down and raw, it takes a track like this to show how pure and hungry Rival Sons, after four albums, are. “Destination On Course,” starts off innocently enough before its slips down a dizzying Floydian feedback-infested subterfuge of head-tripping madness. A slip of the tongue, a tip of the hat, a ride into a psychedelic sunset — after umpteen spins, you have to accept Great Western Valkyrie as a token of what “Classic Rock” has become in the second decade of the 21st century. Someday it might even gain enough traction to be called Vintage Rock.
~ Shawn Perry
