FEW artists so convincingly inhabit their material. This is no pop departure for Lanegan, more a nightime journey; to wit: "when I bombed I spread like bubblegum, and stare too long at the setting sun".
The excellent, but relatively unknown Mark Lanagen is guilty here of the sort of self-mythologising that gave Jim Morrison a bad name and enduring legacy. Destiny is on his shoulder throughout. Nowhere better is this demonstrated than on the otherwise excellent Head, where the search for drugs is given an unwelcome glamour.
Songs with the additional fire-power of guest stars (including former Gn'R member Duff McKagen and PJ Harvey) rattle along although rock clichs often pop up en-route. The quieter numbers shine brightest, although they are too one paced. Little Willie John is the best, a wonderful, totally absorbing updating of the blues; which is where Lanegan can blow the rest away.
Updated: 08:43 Thursday, August 26, 2004
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