By it’s very definition, stoner rock is a misnomer—think of your favorite song; did the writer(s) do it under the influence of some sort of illicit substance. If it appeared, well, ever, then likelihood has it that there was some sort of extra-human substance or influence involved. That being said, somewhere within the dumb post-grunge millennial hoopla that swept and consumed modern rock, Queens of the Stone Age’s second album, the aptly titled Rated R (2000), was lumped in with a genre that creaked and groaned with a certain desert-fried intelligence and history, unlike the ham-fisted rock typification in fashion at the time. Meaty while simultaneously sparse and mysterious, Homme, Oliveri & Co. produced a wholly unique creation. As Dr. Hunter S. Thompson said of this singularity, “A high-powered mutant of some kind never even considered for mass production. Too weird to live, and too rare to die.” And if any band embodied that almost literary sense of difference, it was the Queens; having already produced a masterful and sonically duplicitous (though entirely self-aware self-titled debut), Rated R, here reissued with a slew of b-sides and a recorded live set from their rookie years, stands by the original tracklisting—still packing a one-two barfight knockout. So, while Homme has risen to the level of artful coordinator of riffage since his Kyuss days, Rated R stands as a testament to his power as both a band leader and somewhat of a stylistic guide to the band. Oliveri, matching him in wit but out-classing him in aggression, plays to his counterparts strength as a songwriter, and Homme to him. Queens declared the “unofficial party anthem” of the year 2000 with the minor modern-rock charter, “Feel Good Hit of the Summer”, but it is the sly, extremely referential but never apish, non-considered tracks like “Better Living Through Chemistry” or the Lanegan-delivered “Auto Pilot” that would quickly become crowd favorites together and separate of their boldly melancholic yet informed sentiments. Queens fused fused their identity as both the figure head for that moniker unwanted but not unwelcomed at the turn of the century; as grunge gave way to a much more fraternity sensibility, and rock turned its back on those that had grown-up with a generational fissure in music and culture and instead got in bed with heavily produced schlock, the band bounced playful alongside the genre, never refuting it or denying, confirming or disproving, and Rated R is their stand: fly the freak flag high.
Download “Rated R Deluxe Edition”
Listen to “Auto Pilot” (Live in Sweden, 2003) and “Monsters in the Parasol“
