Clutch - Psychic Warfare

Pitchfork 69

If Mastodon are kings of the sludge-rock world, then their past co-headliners Clutch are the jokers. Since their start in 1991, Clutch have amassed a global reputation as the platonic ideal of stoner rock, with frontman Neil Fallon regarded as one of rock’s most talented auteurs. Like Baroness and Lo-Pan, they’re not afraid to roll up their sleeves and crank out a filthy blues jam (1998’s The Elephant Riders more than gives the Black Keys a run for their money), but the band does so with a cartoonish flippancy that their peers lack, which in turn injects the genre with a much-needed sense of humor. “I have a great luxury that I'm a professional liar—that's what a storyteller is,” Fallon said in the album's press release, going on to add, "It's the one socially acceptable way to completely deceive people, and that's what they want.” Liars tell the best tales, for sure – and when they're packing guitars, all the better.

Where Brent Hinds and company purvey AP lit-inspired epics and extensive experimentations in genre, Fallon and his partners have but the boogie and the bellylaugh—and in the hands of this foursome, that’s more than enough. Clutch’s last record, 2013’s Earth Rocker, marked their biggest triumph to date: a playful, occasionally psychedelic LP that wasn’t afraid to go prog once in a while (it’s also one of the best driving albums in recent memory). Psychic Warfare, recorded in Texas and produced by Machine (who manned the boards for both Earth Rocker and 2004’s Blast Tyrant) isn’t as overachieving, instead marking a return to the bluesy, boozy rock of their early catalog.

After a nondescript intro, Psychic Warfare starts with one of the band’s strongest songs to date: “X Ray Visions”, an ode to conspiracy theories, drugs, sex, and horoscopes all rolled into one. Over the span of three-and-a-half minutes, Fallon manages to incorporate visits from Republican apparitions (tapping out a telegram in a motel room, he’s “quickly overtaken by the angry spirits of Ronald and Nancy Reagan”), a raucous refrain that renders quacky sci-fi concepts like “x ray visions” and “energy weapons” undeniably badass, and the best musical role-call since Sweet’s “Ballroom Blitz” (when’s the last time you introduced yourself as “on the mic…SCORPIOOOOOOOO!”?). It’s a contender for one of the best hard rock songs to date, so it’s unfortunate that the rest of the album–except, perhaps, the “Highway Star”-cribbing “Firebirds!”–fails to capture that divine, batshit energy, despite Fallon’s tales of supernatural lust (“Sucker For The Witch”), cyclops’ revenge (“Behold the Colossus”), decapitated bodies and three-legged mules (“Decapitation Blues”).

Perhaps it’s the abundance of one-three-five chord progressions, or the scarcity of skyward solos (although “Noble Savage” is a shoe-in for Rock Band 4) – or maybe “X Ray Visions” is just a hell of an act to follow. Either way, Psychic Warfare settles into craggy cruise control by “Sucker For The Witch”: haggard verses festooned by Fallon’s goofy imagery and anchored by the no-bullshit percussion of drummer Jean-Paul Gaster and bassist Dan Maines, which in turn give way to stadium-ready choruses. Occasionally, they dip into Texan blues (“Our Lady of Electric Light”, “Son Of Virginia”) – a welcome bit of contrast that comes at the expense of lost momentum, with mid-album “Doom Saloon” being the worst offender.

Clutch work best when they keep the pulley of punchlines and pummeling riffs running at max speed, and as a result, Psychic Warfare proves a tad too meandering to eclipse Earth Rocker or Blast Tyrant. But guffaw, gawk, pump your fist you will—and in the self-important, super-serious world of heavy music, that’s worth more than you think.