Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Clutch - Elephant Riders (1998)
When I feel like drinking whiskey and getting rowdy (once every 50 days), I bring out this album, dust it off, try to scream in that particular Neil Fallon way, and headbutt anyone or anything in my immediate vicinity.
I have seen Clutch a few times in small clubs and it was one of the best live shows I can remember. One particular show, John-Paul Gaster gave me one of his drumsticks. I was so intoxicated from the offering that I felt superhuman. If someone were to have challenged me for that drumstick, I believe I would have beheaded them right there on the spot. I had fought for the front row, and spent the entire show headbanging. I then spent two following days with a sore neck from said headbanging. It was a ride. Point being, this album fucking jams. If you want to jam, look no further.
Neil Fallon has an awesome voice, the lyrics require encyclopedias and the instrumentals are jam funk jazz metal. Neil Fallon probably has more children than Genghiss Khan from speech alone. His voice penetrates anything where it can be heard. At a live show he stands there with only a mic in hand, like some wizard or the grand inquisitor- sans the scary judgement, but 'holy' nonetheless. He commands all in reach to pay attention and be humbled by the spirit of his beastness, yet he manages to do it in a fraternal way. He is like the guy in school who can beat anyone up, and happened to take a liking to your scrawny ass- You are relieved that he likes you and have a strange sort of pride from the whole mess. If you've liked the previous posts, get this. It is on my top shelf.