High on Fire, Electric Messiah (2018)

By PaulySure

I know that it is probably pointless to write a review of a record that came out over six months ago and that you have probably listened to many times. But today, I finally listened to High on Fire’s Grammy Award-winning album Electric Messiah on headphones. While headphones is certainly not my favorite way to listen to records, it sometimes makes it a more intimate, personal, and solitary way to experience music. Anyways, in doing this, I was reminded of a conversation I had with a friend a couple of weeks ago, where I reiterated why I love this record so much. Besides the fact that I am a pretty big Matt Pike fan (whether playing in High on Fire, Sleep, or that short-lived project Kalas) and this record totally fucking rules, I had an additional thought. Now, I realize that what I am about to write might be considered complete blasphemy, sacrilege, and utterly profane, and it may get me removed from this site, but I have to say it. Electric Messiahmight be the greatest Motorhead album that Motorhead never released!

Now, I am going to backpedal here just a bit, before I get into too much trouble. Motorhead might be the greatest Rock ‘n’ Roll band of all time, and for me they are totally punk as fuck. The first time I heard “Ace of Spades,” it changed my life! At the age of 13, that song opened up the intro to Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 3, and I knew I had to own that CD. Today I have two very strong opinions toward the album: first, the record must be in the collections of Rockers, Punks and Metalheads (or at least fans of good music); second, if someone dislikes the record, they are not to be trusted. 

Anyways, now that I have hopefully cleared the air a bit, what I mean is this. With Electric Messiah, High on Fire pulled off what I always deep down, secretly wanted Motorhead to do—slow it down at times, while still kicking ass. So yeah, that is why I think it is the best Motorhead record that Motorhead never released. Either way, whether you agree with this or not, go listen to Electric Messiah! It fucking rips, and High on Fire are easily one of the best bands out there right now! Also, please don’t hate me!

Bruce Springsteen, Western Stars (Columbia, 2019)

Reviewed by Null

Like my good friend, SoDak, I have always tended toward the quieter, acoustic Springsteen albums. Getting wind that his new album, Western Stars, was in this vein, I was eager to hear it. I know there will be a plethora of reviews for this album, so I will try to keep it short.

No, it isn’t the Nebraska,Ghost of Tom Joad, or Devils & DustI was hoping for, but it’s still a pretty good album. Western Starsdoesn’t have quite the political darkness and stark depth of the previously mentioned albums, but it isn’t entirely absent of these qualities either. While the other albums mentioned are albums in which the listener chews up each morsel and detail, Western Starsis best chewed as one big bite. The most striking difference Western Starsoffers is it’s lush and cinematic strings, which leaves the listener with a melancholic hope. Springsteen returns to what he does best, writing songs about specific individuals while at the same time making these stories universal, expressing the trials and tribulations of living life. The protagonists of these stories remain working class, so what the album lacks in direct political commentary, it delivers between the lines. There is a repeated theme of aging and time in these stories, and while some songs rise above others, the album has a great flow and easily moves from one song to the next. Sometimes, the strings begin to feel a little cheesy, but moments later one realizes that they bring a beauty, nostalgia, and comfort to the songs that may actually be the elixir that holds the whole album together.

There are some weaker moments. “Sleepy Joe’s Café,” while a decent song in its own right, is the “Shinny Happy People” of the album. On the songs, “Sundown,” and “There Goes My Miracle,” Springsteen once again evokes his Roy Orbison/Smoky Robinson style that he played around with on the albums Magicand Working on a Dream. These three songs are the weakest on the album; however, they do not diminish from the overall beauty of Western Stars,as the rest of the album is pretty much kick-ass.

“Hitch Hikin” is an excellent opener, which begins an album that deals with the burdens, loves, and losses of one’s life. “Tucson Train” is filled with hope in the knowledge that one can start over and find redemption. “Western Stars” is a word play about western movie actors and trying to rekindle the glories of the past. “Drive Fast (The Stuntman)” isn’t just the story of a broken down ex-stuntman, but also the story of the aching muscles of the entire working class. “Chasing Wild Horses” ends with some of the most beautiful strings on the whole album, followed by a slow fading peddle steel. I think of this track as the cinematic, desert sunset, centerpiece of the album. Several songs later, the album ends with a real heartbreaking masterpiece, “Moonlight Motel.” The day after I bought Western Stars, I woke early in the morning and lay in bed listening to the record while reading the lyric sheet. My early morning sentimental mood was the perfect conduit through which to digest the album. When Springsteen started singing the last verse of “Moonlight Motel,” I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. Time steals moments, never to give them back again. What a beautiful and painful song. 

As I wiped the tears from my eyes, I realized I was all in for this record. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but this album provides some sort of emotionally calming comfort for me. Even in its saddest moments, it’s soothing. I immediately wanted to ride on those dusty backroads in the Arizona desert and listen to this album while the sun descends below the horizon. Stuck here in Colorado, I just started the record over again.