Slash‘s Orgy of the Damned is aptly named. There’s no foreplay, no romance, no subtlety. It’s just wham-bam-ball-thank-you-all, and tomorrow, we’ll act like nothing happened while fighting back embarrassment and shame.
Listening to Slash’s guest-heavy blues tribute is akin to being a kid in a rock band, learning second and third-hand blues from groups that made these songs popular for a generation of kids in the 1970s – kids in Slash’s generation. The artists that populate Orgy of the Damned consider the post-British Invasion rock era ground zero, when Cream repurposed Robert Johnson‘s “Cross Road Blues” into “Crossroads” by double-timing it and adding an extended guitar workout by Eric Clapton.
The tracklist of Orgy of the Damned even boasts the crusty “Crossroads”, which is like including “Rocky Top” on your bluegrass tribute, “Stairway to Heaven” on your classic rock homage, or “Free Bird” on your Southern rock set. That’s just one of the issues with Orgy of the Damned – it rarely digs deeper than, or ventures outside of, the most obvious warhorses of blues-rock. You get Paul Rodgers covering Albert King’s (by way of William Bell and Booker T. Jones) “Born Under a Bad Sign”, a song Rodgers recorded for his own The Royal Sessions ten years prior.
Coincidentally, Slash joined Rodgers in 1993 for the far-superior Muddy Water Blues project, where he guested on another, and much less obvious, Albert King classic, “The Hunter“. “Bad Sign” is delivered here very professionally, but like most of Orgy, it doesn’t curl toes or make you want to revisit it much more than once, unlike Muddy Water Blues, which is now sadly out of print.
The inimitable and usually reliable Billy F. Gibbons appears for a run-through of…sigh…” Hoochie Coochie Man”, a song he could probably sing in his sleep, and here he pretty much does. Chris Stapleton has the same issue with his turn on the Peter Green-era Fleetwood Mac favorite, “Oh Well”. Stapleton is one of the great blues-rock vocalists of the modern era (although he’s marketed as country, outlaw country, or whatever), yet he’s given an oft-covered blues-rock standard that requires nothing of him. For all his well-earned reputation as a serious belter, he surprisingly puts little effort into the song. It leaves one to wonder if, by staying in a lower register, he was aiming for a menacing tone, yet he comes off as disinterested at best.
The same could be said for the Black Crowes‘ Chris Robinson. He opens Orgy with a faithful reading of “The Pusher”. This material should be right up Robinson’s former drug-riddled alleyway. But instead of digging down and crawling inside this Hoyt Axton-penned, Steppenwolf-definitively-covered chestnut, he merely struts and preens through the verses. John Kay’s reading is so menacing and intense that it makes you fear for – even to an extent empathize with – the pusher man. Robinson, however, sounds barely engaged, as if he’s biding time until the caterer comes.
The biggest offender may be Demi Lovato stepping in for an entirely unnecessary “Papa Was a Rolling Stone”. This take has none of the ominous atmosphere or sinewy groove of the original. The band just bashes away behind Lovato, who alternates between a flat, lifeless delivery and an over-the-top, all-out holler.
Orgy has its moments, however. Tash Neal of the London Souls understands what makes the Stevie Wonder classic, “Living for the City”, work. It’s one of the rare tracks here that, while well-known, isn’t overdone in blues-rock circles.
Dorothy Martin injects her hard rock pipes and fresh energy into the well-worn “Key to the Highway” while Iggy Pop brings some much-needed gravitas to one of the relatively more obscure choices, Lightnin’ Hopkins’ “Awful Dream”. While we may never need to hear “Stormy Monday” ever again, Beth Hart makes damn sure we’ll remember her version as she prowls and sweats through the T-Bone Walker evergreen like a woman possessed, so much so that she refuses to get down on her knees and pray until the very end, when she realizes her soul may very well be up for grabs.
Still, the main issue with Orgy of the Damned isn’t song selection, it’s execution. It’s blues-rock delivered by musicians who sound like they believe the blues began and ended with Led Zeppelin or, even worse, Aerosmith. When contrasted with another blues covers album released this past week, Little Feat’s Sam’s Place, Orgy sounds like a passable cover band at any bar on a Saturday night, plugging through their set with no concern for dynamics or nuance: the drums pound, and the guitars squall with the subtlety and mastery of an elephant learning needlepoint.
Yes, it’s Slash’s name on the project, and as the guitarist for Guns N’ Roses, this sort of surface treatment of the blues should be expected to an extent. After all, the band that gave us one of the greatest hard rock albums of all time, Appetite for Destruction, are direct descendants of Aerosmith, whose own blues tribute, 2004’s Honkin’ on Bobo, was mostly a loud, lumbering mess. Indeed, Steven Tyler shows up here and honks his way through a version of Howlin’ Wolf’s “Killing Floor” with Brian Johnson on vocals, and Johnson’s playful treatment brings some much-needed levity to the proceedings.
Yet the only real surprise comes with Gary Clark, Jr.’s turn on “Crossroads” when, halfway through, the band switches from Cream’s well-known cover to a slow blues for the final verse, only to return to Cream’s take to end it. While it’s interesting, it’s not enough to garner repeat listens. Interestingly, Clark even sings the “Goin’ down to Rosedale” verse from Cream’s version, which was taken from Robert Johnson’s “Traveling Riverside Blues”. It drives home the point that this is a rock album first, and the blues is used mainly as an excuse to rock out.
In contrast, on Sam’s Place, Little Feat’s longtime conga master Sam Clayton takes the lead, guiding the band through the likes of, yes, “Got My Mojo Workin'” and “Mellow Down Easy”, but also deeper cuts like Little Walter’s “Last Night”, Willie Dixon‘s “You’ll Be Mine”, and Bobby Charles’s “Why People Like That” – you know, songs the long-haired kids and middle-aged white men haven’t worn slap out while shredding on their Strats in sports and biker bars across the US. As if to drive home the point that Sam’s Place is occupied by grown-ass men and women, Bonnie Raitt joins Clayton on a fun roll through another Muddy Waters favorite, “Long Distance Call”. Yes, kids, there was much, much more to Muddy than “Hoochie Coochie Man”.
Yes, it’s great that Orgy for the Damned may expose some to these songs for the first time. For many, though, these are the same blues vehicles hard rock bands have been driving around for decades. Fans have heard all these tracks many times before and with more character. Sam’s Place, on the other hand, may not offer an orgy, but it shares some good stories, offers witty banter, and just may seduce you in more substantial ways. You’ll still respect yourself in the morning.
Slash and company may want to visit Sam’s Place en route to their S.E.R.P.E.N.T. Festival gigs this summer. It might inspire them to dig a little deeper.