BLUE CHEER: DINING WITH THE SHARKS (1991)
1) Big Noise; 2) Outrider; 3)
Sweet Child Of The Reeperbahn; 4) Gunfight; 5) Audio Whore; 6) Cut The Costs;
7) Sex Soldier; 8) When Two Spirits Touch; 9) Pull The Trigger; 10) Foxy Lady.
A rather prophetic title for an album, since,
to the best of my knowledge, this is exactly
what this particular LP, along with this particular incarnation of the band, is
busy doing at the moment. By the early 1990s, «Blue Cheer» had completed their
relocation to Germany, where their new sound unexpectedly found just a tad more
acclaim than elsewhere — a fact that Peterson acknowledged and honored by not
only hiring a German guitarist (Dieter Saller) to play on the record, but also
by writing songs with titles like ʽSweet Child Of The Reeperbahnʼ. Which might
or might not also contain an intentional nod to Guns N' Roses, but in general,
the Peterson/Saller sound rather continues the «Accept-ization» of Blue Cheer's
legacy begun on the previous album, much to the delight of all those sons of
rowdy Hamburg sailors whose fathers, thirty years back, used to get equally
aroused to the merry sounds of The Silver Beetles.
That said, even the least inspired Accept
albums are still preferable to this tremendously boring piece of sludgy-muck. The
only thing that could be briefly admired is Peterson's consistency of character
— other than the acoustic / steel guitar-driven folk-blues of ʽWhen Two Spirits
Touchʼ (still sounds dirty) there is not a single nod here towards «sentimentality»,
«softness», «depth of feeling», and whatever other silly qualities could distract
The Beast from grinding its axe, strutting its stuff, rolling its dough, and porking
its chops. The problem, however, is that The Beast got old, stupefied, and
unadaptable to modern world conditions.
Everything that could go wrong, goes wrong. With Peterson, who has never shown
signs of melodic genius, being credited for most of the songwriting, the
majority of the riffs are clichéd reruns of The Hard Rock Textbook, with echoes
of Judas Priest, Black Sabbath, AC/DC, and those German bands all over the
place — in fact, some of that stuff has to be heard to be believed. If you did
not think, for instance, that it was humanly possible to rip off the Kinks and
ZZ Top on the exact same song, take a peek at ʽPull The Triggerʼ, whose verse
riff copies ʽI Got The Sixʼ and whose chorus riff copies ʽ(Wish I Could Fly
Like) Supermanʼ (and all the while the bass guitar keeps on playing the old
pattern from ʽSummertime Bluesʼ!). This is just the most obvious example (to
me), but I'm fairly sure most of the songs could be analyzed the same way.
To this one should add the exact same leaden guitar
tone on each track, and the complete
inability of the new German player to raise any interest in his solos — he
just seems like a well-meaning kid with lots of reverence for Wolf Hoffmann,
but no particular talent of his own, and maybe that is why his leads are
usually mixed in so deep in the production, which makes the experience of
listening to the whole album comparable to the experience of crossing a
mile-long cesspool with a light, but constant electrical charge running through
it. The dubious «delight» of having it all capped off with a similar-sounding
cover of Jimi's ʽFoxy Ladyʼ is comparable to scooping out a piece of Turkish
Delight at the end of the crossing — bon
appetit.
Finally, as if that wasn't enough, Peterson
must have been struck down with laryngitis on that particular day — his vocals
were never a huge gift of Fortune, but here he sounds like a lite version of
Motörhead's Lemmy and AC/DC's throat-problem-era Brian Johnson rolled in one:
hoarse, gurgling, and completely unadapted for the «macho» spirit of his own
compositions. Then again, given titles like ʽAudio Whoreʼ and ʽSex Soldierʼ, I
guess it all fits, on some particularly depraved level, into the typical Reeperbahn
aesthetics. But still, even something like ʽWhat Do You Do For Money Honeyʼ
seems chic and stylish compared to this miserable sludge.
If this were at least «comically» bad, I could
have found it in me to say a few kind words — but since it is «boringly bad»,
which is really the worst kind of bad there is, the final verdict is an asserted
thumbs down
all the way; you'd have to be one of Peterson's groupies-for-life to enjoy
this, I think, or a Hamburg slum native or something. As it is, just do
yourself a favor and get an Accept record instead.
Check "Dining With The Sharks" (CD) on Amazon
I had no idea Blue Cheer released so many albums. I thought they were a 2 or 3 album 60's band. As much as I like "Out of Focus", it'll be a lonely rainy day before I give most of these a listen.
ReplyDeleteIt's definitely for the best to treat Blue Cheer as a late entry into the 1960's garage band/Nuggets sweepstakes: 1 hit single, 1 resultant classic album, 1 failed (but still classic) follow up album, and *fade to black*.
DeleteI think "Oh Pleasant Hope" is a pretty good album. Of course, it's useless if you're exclusively looking for quality hard-rock.
DeleteBut even then, Randy Holden's brief sojourn is a must-own.
If they'd died in a plane crash after the second album they would have been legends.
DeleteWhile this album clearly doesn't deserve your eloquence, I love that you compare listening to it to "the experience of crossing a mile-long cesspool with a light, but constant electrical charge running through it." Now that's vivid.
ReplyDelete