Them Crooked Vultures
– Them Crooked Vultures
Them Crooked Vultures sounds like three men in a locked room daring each other to go louder, dirtier, and weirder until the walls sweat. It’s a record built from instinct and caffeine, all swagger and sinew. Every riff stomps forward like it’s half-drunk on its own rhythm, while the bass and drums wrestle for dominance underneath. Nothing feels overly planned, yet everything lands with bruising precision — the kind that comes from too many miles and too few compromises.
Best of…
The album lives in the pocket where arrogance and genius trade punches. The grooves lean heavy, slouching into psychedelic breakdowns and blues mutations that feel both ancient and radioactive. The vocals snarl and sneer, less sung than expelled, each word cracking open another layer of tension. It’s a sound that chews on its own chaos and spits it out like broken glass.
What makes Them Crooked Vultures fascinating isn’t its pedigree but its pulse. Every track feels like a live wire — alive, unpredictable, slightly dangerous. There’s humor buried under the grit, flashes of self-awareness amid the racket, and a sense of freedom that can only exist when no one’s trying to please anyone else. It’s a rock album made by people who already conquered everything else and decided to see what still burns.
Choice Tracks
New Fang
Funky menace wrapped in jagged guitars and swaggering rhythm. The bass line stalks, the drums explode, and the vocals grin through clenched teeth. It’s pure strut — all muscle, no apology.
Mind Eraser, No Chaser
Sharp-edged riffs twist around a groove that won’t quit. The vocal harmonies shimmer through the fuzz like mischief disguised as melody. A perfect mix of brains and brawl.
Elephants
Built on a lumbering riff that feels prehistoric in weight. The song morphs and lunges without warning, turning heaviness into hypnotism. It’s the sound of the band flexing its collective id.
Dead End Friends
A compact burst of rock adrenaline. The rhythm section locks in like a piston engine while the guitar scratches and howls above it. Short, mean, and addictive.
Them Crooked Vultures is a power trip disguised as a jam session — greasy, unhinged, and electrifying. Every note feels carved from noise and nerve, proving that rock excess still sounds best when it’s done out of pure instinct.