Ex-Stereophonics drummer Stuart Cable must be kicking himself. If he isn’t, he should be. Not only has suffered the indignity of being sacked, by phone, by his former childhood friends, he’s missed out on playing on easily the best album of their career. A darkly, slathering record of frustration and disillusionment, “Language. Sex. Violence. Other?" may, in time, even come to be seen as one of the true masterpieces of the noughties guitar revival. Bummer.
Following his dethroning, Cable echoed the sentiments of many who’d followed the band from small-town Welsh rockers to household name, saying that they’d lost their way, the earlier albums were better and there wasn’t enough rock anymore. He’ll no doubt be thrilled to hear then, that their fifth album, as evidenced by single “Dakota” is a focused, determined return to big choruses, churning guitars and wall-to-wall rock. Bummer indeed.
If singer Kelly Jones is to be believed though, the album would have happened that way had Cable stayed. New drummer, Argentinean Javier Weyler, apparently made all the difference. More to the point, Cable was ‘let go’ for his lack of commitment, and if “Language. Sex. Violence. Other?” makes anything clear it’s that Jones is more ambitious than the plodding tedium of the last two albums would suggest. It’s not just an improvement, it’s an epic sea change that catapults them from mid-tempo “Handbags and Gladrags” miserablists to raging stadium colossus.
But forget the new drummer, the biggest change is in Kelly Jones himself. After years of what seemed like a terminal decline from barking terrier of rock to bored croaker, he’s finally found himself some attitude. From the dark, sleaze ridden likes of “Superman” and “Pedalpusher” to the gas-guzzling “Doorman” and seedy chugger “Brother”, there’s a heroic swagger in his guitars and a joyously self-satisfied sneer in his voice. And even quiet moments of reflection “Devil” and “Feel” come respectively with lip-curled malevolence and flooring melancholy.
Lord alone knows what any of it’s about – like a true rock star Jones now rasps in cryptic couplets about sucking his banana and Jesus on an aeroplane – but there’s no mistaking that he’s bitter, twisted and loving every minute of it. More than a return to form, “Language. Sex. Violence. Other?” does what no one could realistically have thought possible: make the Stereophonics cool. It’s so phenomenally good, even poor old Stuart Cable would probably have to admit so.
Bummer.
by Dan Gennoe