Queens of the Stone Age
– …Like Clockwork
Josh Homme had been through the wringer—near-death, band drama, the usual soul-splitting existential stuff. …Like Clockwork doesn’t just reflect that bruising; it drips with it. Gone is the stoned swagger of Songs for the Deaf. In its place: something slower, darker, and far more haunted. This is QOTSA limping into the spotlight, eyes bloodshot, with a crooked grin that says, “You’re still coming with me.”
Best of…
Homme’s voice has never sounded more human. He croons, he falters, he pulls back when you expect him to scream. The band, instead of leaning on their usual angular ferocity, plays with restraint, letting tension simmer like a cigarette burning in the dark. There’s still groove, yes—nobody’s forgotten how to move hips here—but it’s wounded now. Elegant, even. It’s like they fed desert rock through a bottle of bourbon and a notebook full of bad dreams.
The guest list (Trent Reznor, Elton John, Alex Turner, etc.) might look like a clout-chasing move, but everyone blends into Homme’s vision. No one overshadows. This is his reckoning, after all. …Like Clockwork is a record about dragging yourself back to life, one breath and broken falsetto at a time. It’s QOTSA’s most emotionally coherent album, and maybe their most quietly devastating.
Choice Tracks
I Sat by the Ocean
It’s the closest this record gets to a straight-up rock single, but even here there’s pain lurking under the hooks. A breakup song disguised as a strut.
If I Had a Tail
Sleaze and menace married in four minutes. Homme sounds like a man sipping poison with a smirk, while the rhythm section grinds like it knows something you don’t.
Kalopsia
Starts like a lullaby, ends like a breakdown. Trent Reznor adds some texture, but it’s Homme’s fragile delivery that lingers. Beauty curdling into paranoia.
My God Is the Sun
A punch of old-school QOTSA energy—tight, relentless, sun-scorched. It hits harder because it’s surrounded by the album’s more fragile moments.
I Appear Missing
The emotional core. Six and a half minutes of slow-burning anguish that never overplays its hand. Homme doesn’t just sound lost—he sounds willing to be lost.
…Like Clockwork
The title track closes the curtain like a dying star: quietly, beautifully, with a strange, exhausted peace. The final sigh after the fight.