Back with a vengeance, after a considerable gap and with a certain amount of personal turmoil in the background, Queens of the Stone Age return to the fray with In Times New Roman…, a typically clever play on words that references both the blandest font in the history of word processing, and a period of history that speaks either to domination and imperial ambition or the end of a civilisation, depending upon your perspective. The band’s first album since 2017’s Villains, it’s a powerful return, that mixes the band’s signature sonics – skronky guitar, off-kilter rhythms and Josh Homme’s inimitable vocals – with influences ranging from US alt-rock to Bowie.
The album opens with Obscenery, and, initially, it seems that the more things change, the more they stay the same, with a tightly-wound riff straight out of Era Vulgaris underpinning Josh Homme’s oh-so-familiar falsetto. Persevere, however, and you’ll find a blistering chorus waiting in the wings, allied to a series of awkwardly-arranged strings, which have no place in the song, but which sound awesome anyway. It’s a bold opening, making the most of Mark Rankin’s mixing prowess and presenting the Queens with a powerful dynamic edge that rewards those who like to crank the volume. Next up, the funky sweep of Paper Machete has it all – stop/start riffs, crooning vocals, epic drumming and weird segues into the unknown. Arguably the most obvious hit since No One Knows, it’s a cracking song, only for the band to slip into robo-funk territory with Negative Space, a strange mix of industrial noise, stabbing guitar lines and slithery bass. Again, the obvious parallel would be the underrated Era Vulgaris, although from where the strutting Time and Place emerged is harder to judge. It’s a great song, the guitar work particularly worthy of note, but it’s soon eclipsed by the monstrous riff of Made To Parade, which is as heavy as anything the band have yet produced, although the whimsical keys stop things from becoming too menacing.
Opening the album’s second half, the eerie, Bowie-esque ambience of Carnavoyeur might just be one of the best songs the band have yet written. Harking back to the Thin White Duke’s golden years and, in particular, Station to Station, it’s a connection that, with the benefit of hindsight, seems obvious, and which suits the Queens well. What the Peephole Say is the outcome of a meeting between QOTSA, Pavement and Fame-era Bowie (complete with Lennon in tow), while the doom-laden trudge of Sicily pitches the darkest of bass-led riffs against Josh’s sweet falsetto. The airy Emotion Sickness, is an angular grind that threatens to invoke vertigo in the listener (especially if listening through headphones), only for the band to throw in a chorus that’s pure Beach Boys, all sun-kissed harmonies and slide guitar. The album concludes, and far too soon, with Straight Jacket Fitting, one last canter for the Queens, who throw humungous riffs, moments of unsettling calm, an unholy chorus, and even a sweet acoustic coda into the mix, ending an already-exceptional album on an easy high.
A short, sharp shock of an album that seeks to combine the best of the band’s post-Songs For The Deaf output into just forty-five minutes, …In Times New Roman is a particularly strong album in the Queens’ cannon, with Josh Homme sounding fired up throughout. Not a moment is wasted, the production is excellent, and the band demonstrate that they still have a fair few sonic surprises up their sleeves, even while consolidating their sound. A very strong effort indeed from Queens of The Stone Age, …In Times New Roman excels on almost every level. 9/10
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