Word: drummer
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Grohl, an only partially reformed drummer, uses his guitar at least as much as rhythm instrument as for melody and the result is relentless stream of power-chord headbangers. As the tattered black heart on the cover illustrates, the album is a tribute to disaffected love: “I may be scattered, a little shattered / What does it matter? / Noone has a fit like I do / I’m the only one that fits you.” The lyrics even border on kitsch sometimes, though only because Grohl couldn’t care less. Here the guitar...
Alas, much of the rest of the album misses at least as often as it hits. “No Way Out” has a jazzy sentiment, courtesy of master drummer Manu Katché and bassist Tony Levin, as well as a solid rock riff. However, “My Head Sounds Like That” is a self-indulgent dirge summed up by its appalling lyrics: “The oil is spitting in the saucepan / I squeeze the sponge and let the cat out / Oh, my head sounds like that.” Gabriel is never boring...
...Drummer Peter S.R. Kennedy ’03, a.k.a PK-1, calls my cell phone from the second car* to hum me a song he’s been working on that sounds like the yell a mute person makes the moment before death. “That’s pretty tight,” I say and put the phone by Fink’s ear. “That’s pretty tight,” he concurs...
...nine piece band, including three percussionists and a drummer, literally rocked the House’s upstairs dancehall—stage lighting fixtures above the floor were swaying as the crowd bounced euphorically to the rolling Caribbean rhythms. The crowd, including a huge majority of Haitians and a flag or two, sang along with dreadlocked bandleader Theodore “Lolo” Beaubrun, Jr. and his wife Mimerose Beaubrun, who provided a female vocal counterpoint. The music was unrelentingly energetic, but at times suffered from being almost too eclectic. The dexterous guitarist served up ringing riffs that jived perfectly...
However impressive Neal Evans and Eric Krasno were, it was all held together by the funk, jazz and hip hop-driven beats of drummer Alan Evans. With a jazz-style grip on his sticks, he played with the intensity of a metal drummer, but with the touch of an old-school great. His energy was such that after the first song he shed his suit jacket because of the sweat he had worked up. In between songs, as he wiped his sticks down, he asked the crowd, “You all ready to get down...