Before I had even heard them play I felt overly assured that Wolfmother was gonna be a wonderfully heavy mess---it was their name that gave it away; I mean, if you’re going to name yourself something like “Wolfmother”, you had better fucking rock! Admittedly, there isn’t a single note of new ground being broke herein, but there’s something about the eager energy with which they lay shameless waste to their ‘70s stoner rock heroes that you have to love; frankly, compared the other emo-esque CRAP that was clogging up the airwaves back when this dropped, it damn well shined…yes, I realize that’s cutting Wolfmother’s shortcomings a lot of slack, but this younger generation has got to start somewhere, right?! Singer & guitarist Andrew Stockdale sounds something like a cross between Robert Plant, Geddy Lee and Ozzy, which is totally appropriate for the THC-laden, sludgy riffage that ensues throughout the LP; take it all with a grain of salt, but don’t have that pole wedged so deep in your ass that you can’t enjoy the power here, dig?
