Eagles of Death Metal - Heart On
Downtown Records (10/28/08)
Rock

Eagles of Death Metal are Jesse “Boots Electric” Hughes and, moonlighting from Queens of the Stone Age, Josh “Baby Duck” Homme. And Eagles of Death Metal are rock, bottled. Take a little ’70s strut-groove cock rock, mix it with some ’80s style hedonism, and you’ve got EoDM in your glass. EoDM are so gloriously sleazy, in fact, that they qualify as not just music but a connoisseur’s wine list of trash. Each song on Heart On, actually, is akin to a specific blend of debauchery:

“Anything ‘Cept the Truth” is your girlfriend’s best friend and a case of PBR. And just give your girlfriend a copy of the lyric sheet if she asks where you were.

“Wannabe in L.A.” is doing lines off the bathroom stall of a Chinese buffet during a blind date you plan on ditching.

“(I Used to Couldn’t Dance) Tight Pants” is drinking Jim Beam with a biker’s girlfriend while he’s too bombed on OxyContin to notice. All the itinerant thrill and danger is inherent, of course.

“High Voltage” is that first roll-out on E, when you first think your pills might be bunk and you start slamming shots to compensate. Get back to the dance floor quick enough that no one notices how bad you’re jawboning.

“Secret Plans” is sloppy drunk and over-too-quick sex with someone you don’t want your friends to catch you with.

“Now I’m a Fool” is a night home with three Vicodin, a bongload and your best no-strings-attached f*ckbuddy.

“Heart On” is the hostess from that Chinese buffet, that biker’s girlfriend, and tequila shots every hour, on the hour. Alternately works as a soundtrack for a not-getting-laid-so-I’m-gettin-kicked-out fight at a dive bar.

“Cheap Thrills” is a fistful of ’shrooms and a booze cruise in a Camaro with your wingman up front and the girls in the back, with the classic rock station turned up loud enough that you can’t hear them talking. Probably the best track on the record.

“How Can a Man With So Many Friends Feel So All Alone” is trying to make your night’s catch cry before she leaves so you can have a laugh with your bedtime joint. The solo would be the dream you have about a better night’s prey.

“Solo Flights” is what it sounds like, and belongs to your buzzkill friend you won’t ask to come out again, although songs about masturbating haven’t sounded this self-righteous since “She-Bop”.

“Prissy Prancin’” is the high point of an ecstasy roll when you don’t care how gay your dance moves look to all the guys on the wall because you’re the one takin’ one of these girls home while they will be listening to the previous track and crying themselves to sleep.

“I’m Your Torpedo” requires a safe word, two Viagra and a line of Adderal… and a ShamWow to cover the sheets with.

There you have it. Fans of QOTSA won’t be disappointed by Heart On for some of Homme’s mindbender solos, and the groove is as solid for head-nodding as it is for a stripper pole. Some people might be put off by the ironic slant (years ago I wrote a treatise on the burgeoning musical trend of iRAWny, or ironic RAWK!, made popular by The Darkness and being propped up by bands like EoDM, Black Tide, and the dismal Airborne) but I assure you, the inherent “haha, we’re being so cheesy it’s fun” pose of the irony has gone around the bend and bands like Eagles of Death Metal are as genuine in their rockstar strutting as every kid glued to his Guitar Hero controller. Being their third album, Heart On may wear on anyone who’s listened to Eagles of Death Metal’s act before, but for neophytes it’s a hoot. Those who already know, pass it along. More bedroom rockers and bedpost knockers need to get their muthalovin’ Heart On.

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