For a long time, Josh Homme sought the company of dangerous men. Nick Oliveri, Mark Lanegan, Jesse Hughes — these are larger-than-life characters, the kind of lethal S.O.B.s who always seem to be holding a lit cigarette in the vicinity of a pool of gasoline. For Homme, whose laconic cool in the late ’90s and early ’00s was unflappable no matter the circumstances, surrounding himself with loose cannons gave his band, Queens Of The Stone Age, an irresistible hot/cold dynamic. Whatever craziness, musical or otherwise, occurred around him on QOTSA’s first three albums, Homme was always the calm at the eye of the storm, like a honey-voiced play-by-play announcer dispassionately relating the events of a prison riot.
But over time, as Queens Of The Stone Age evolved from a collective into a conventional band, Homme’s inherent coolness has overwhelmed any and all corruptive influences. The unpredictable hazards of early QOTSA have given way to a crafty steadiness on the more recent records. So perhaps it shouldn’t have come as a shock that Homme enlisted Mark Ronson to produce the seventh Queens album, Villains. For the knuckle-draggiest parts of QOTSA’s fanbase, Ronson represents corruption of the less awesome kind — pop castration of a mighty rock and roll beast. But Ronson and Homme are more alike than they might appear.
Ronson, like Homme, is a record-head who is exceedingly good at synthesizing influences from throughout modern music history into a sound that feels modern, even when it scans as retro. Ronson’s signature hit with Bruno Mars, “Uptown Funk,” is an impeccable piece of studio-bound professionalism presented in the guise of a carefree party, and that’s basically Queens Of The Stone Age in a nutshell. As Homme recently told Rolling Stone, “We’re more like an arcade or an ice-cream parlor where you don’t talk politics. There needs to be escape.”
Homme has pitched Ronson’s involvement in Villains as a risky shakeup designed to prevent his band from becoming “a parody of itself.” Interestingly, Homme now sees himself as the bad influence. “I think oftentimes I bring the gift of disruption and corruption,” he insisted when The New York Times asked about Ronson. “I think it’s fun to pervert that buttoned-up type, as an offering and as a friend.”
But aside from some punched-up rhythms on the excellent disco-metal opener, “Feet Don’t Feel Me,” and the layer of swaggering gloss applied to the glammy T. Rex homage “Un-Reborn Again,” Villains sounds more or less like another very good Queens record. Homme remains a leather-jacketed greaser whose music melds Sun-era Elvis crooning with heavy-riffing Berlin-era Iggy soundscapes. Ronson’s influence is negligible — or maybe it’s just redundant. Homme might brag about having an “addiction to friction” on the slinky album highlight “Hideaway,” but Villains is about as smooth and problem-free as QOTSA albums get.