Picture the git-tone of Hendrix, the syrupy slop of Sabbath, and mystical Narnia-borne lyrics that should only be in a Tenacious D song. These guys know one tempo (boring … uh, we mean slow) and fail to deviate from it. While their self-titled debut album isn’t too different from Feathers (their fourth studio LP), it was dynamic and rife with youthful energy. This just feels like a mild case of the flu; with no exciting moments of passing out or puking, it lingers around just long enough to aggravate and ache and have the host/listener wish it be gone. Feathers doesn’t even give you something to choke on.
Ben Blackwell writes about music for Metro Times . Send comments to firstname.lastname@example.org.
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