The Specimens - The Quick And The Deaf
Music Reviews by Luke, 1st November, 2004
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Let’s get this settled at the outset. The Specimens are a loud band. They’re the sort of band that will break your stereo equipment when you turn this, their second album, up loud. And The Quick And The Deaf – apart from giving the listener a bit of a Queens Of The Stone Age tip in the titular way – is an album that you’ll want to keep turning up.
The sound of the album is, in a word, fabulous. It’s one of those discs that sees the volume on your stereo climb steadily upwards in the search for the point where it begins to sound blown-out and crappy. In this case, though, it’s a point that doesn’t exist – or at least, I couldn’t find it before I started to lose my hearing. Lindsay Gravina (who’s produced recordings by Magic Dirt, Nick Cave, Jet and The Living End) returns to give the band’s rock leanings a tweak. It’s a pairing that’s worked profitably before – Gravina worked on the band’s debut album – and the production punch that such a union creates works brilliantly here. There’s a sense of reverb-heavy possibility in some of the songs that’s more commonly associated with space rock, but seems to fit the band’s sound pretty well – it’s a rounded, big-beat sound that’s so beefy that it feels as if it could jump out of the speakers and whack you one.
The Specimens have played with a stack of Detroit-styled bands – including the big daddies of them all, the MC5 – and the go-get-’em energy levels of bands mining that particular vein of dirty denim goodness has really rubbed off on them. Since their inception in 2001, the band (who freely admit to being influenced by Oz luminaries Radio Birdman and The Onyas) have plied their particular brand of foot-down rockin’ across stages Australia-wide, but some have argued that they’ve not nailed their sound on disc before. The Quick And The Deaf, however, comes much closer to getting the rock-solid reliability of the band’s shows nailed down on disc. Like their sets, it’s an album that – good or bad – won’t let up until it’s through. And to be honest, there’s something attractive about an album that fronts you and dares you not to rock out.
Opener Head Straight begins with a fade-in vamp, all beating toms, Swervedriver feedback and tension-building guitar chords swirling jauntily along before dropping straight into a racetrack-speed riff. From here on in, the pace won’t let up until the album spins to a close.
Sometimes I feel as if I’ve got nothing to say…
Everybody feels this way
sings singer/guitarist Terry Opie, before launching into the cautionary chorus:
Get your fuckin’ head straight!
Everybody feels this way…
It’s a fine start, and signifies where the band’s headed with this disc. An accelerator down, spacey-soloing, manic drumming set of songs awaits. And while some tunes may lag, there’s enough overdriven big-beating here to keep even the most discerning music lover dizzy.
Get On Top begins with a slow, constant strum that’s soon overtaken by Pete Townshend-styled chords. But before any rock opera-styled wank can be laid on, a burning riff blows in, setting the track aflame, leading perfectly into the nihilistic vocals of Opie, disaffection dripping from his reverbed voice:
I hate the scene and I’m totally lazy…
It’s a great kick-off to a song that’s ostensibly about inveigling someone into your bed. There’s a sense of pacing during the song that, at times, reminds this listener of Paranoid, that Black Sabbath classic. But this time around, it’s got more of that dustblown stoner hip-shake to it, urging the target of the tune’s attentions to
Get on top, baby
Get on top, baby
Get on top oh yeah!
The solo drifts into the tune like Looney Tunes’ Tasmanian Devil, all action and bluster. And it fits perfectly with its frenetic feel. Like a seatbeltless ride full-tilt down a bumpy country road, the song jolts along with a bigger bang-for-buck ratio than should be legal. Like The Casanovas, this is rock in its purest, big-kid form. And yes, it’s cool as fuck. Big head-nodder tunes abound; Janie sounding like something that could easily have escaped the Tumbleweed stables – though that could well be the references to a particular Mary Jane talking.
Elsewhere, the speediness is given full rein. Makin’ Time is joyously over-the-top, with a suspiciously Datsuns-esque vocal line working with a speed-glam bassline of fabulous dexterity – and even some barrelhouse piano chords – to produce a fun, fun track. Speaking a little more evilly, One Man Rampage is a tune that’d give The Hellacopters a run for their speed-riff money, replete with warnings to keep on the shadier side of life:
Keep livin’ on the dark side, honey…
Satanic approval is taken as read.
Of course, this wouldn’t be an Australian album without a bit of pisstaking. As if daring retro-rockers Jet to step up to the plate and bring their biggest rock noise, Kiss On The Lips begins with the tiniest bit of band room riffing on the melody from Are You Gonna Be My Girl? before breaking into a searing double-headed lead of its own that encloses a song that’s easily got as much chutzpah as anything those multi-million-sellers can muster. Speaking of big bands, Levitate sounds very much like what the latter-day Powderfinger are doing – strong vocals, a relentless chord progression (and that mention of the dark side, again) shows that these guys are stadium-gig naturals.
The Specimens save the most over-the-top, engine-revving dose of rock for album closer – and title track – The Quick And The Deaf, however. From the grandstanding intro with insistent, call-to-arms drumming to the subtle guitar flourishes of the verses, it’s the tune that comes closest to capturing the level of energy that the band has when they play live. It’s the one that, most of all, makes you want to duck-walk across your lounge-room. It’s the one that’s a sure sign that this band’s a keeper.
If there’s a criticism that can be levelled at the album, it’s that it’s sometimes a bit low on lyrical content, while being high on riff – Drama Queen or the harp-featured What Ya Wanna Do? are examples of this. Sometimes, the songs sound great, but listeners are left wondering if there’s a bit more than the yeah-baby school of lyricism to come. But to be honest, when something’s as purely high-volume, good-time fun as this album comes along, it’s easy to forgive such minor transgressions.
While it’s not a particularly groundbreaking album – not that every band needs to make prog opuses anyway – The Quick And The Deaf certainly is a bloody enjoyable one. And unlike Turbonegro, The Datsuns, or The Hellacopters – all of whom the band’s played with, incidentally – they’re a bunch of locals. It may be nationalism, but dammit, Australia’s hard rockers need your support – and there’s nobody more deserving than The Specimens. Just wait until they annihilate Europe…