Eleven

Thunk (Hollywood)
by Nik Rainey

At first blush, it may be hard to distinguish Eleven from the this-year’s-model-army of loud, introspective rock bands, what with Alain Johannes’ neo-Zep riffage and de rigeur baritone-enema sing-speak. But listen a little harder and you’ll find that Eleven is a prime number indeed, as heavy and elusive as a wayward ball or mercury on a hardwood floor. The varied propulsion of guest drummers Jack Irons (ex-Chili Peppers) and Matt Cameron (of Soundgardern, who shared a bill with Eleven last summer) provides the fluid bedrock for Johannes’ chord-throttling and Natasha Schneider’s spooky white-soul-mama-in-purgatory voice. The eleven (hmmm) hunks of hard-psych (none dare to call it grunge) on Thunk (Hollywood) have a dynamic tension that Charles Atlas would envy. The not-bad-for-the-genre lyrics truck in fear, paranoia and fatalism – nothing new there – but they are delivered with such forthrightness that each word rings true. My personal fave is “No Ground,” where Natasha’s Hammond-horror organ and dark gospel wails come off a little like a subdued Diamanda Galas, but the whole thing, from the burning thwack of “Nature Wants To Kill Me” to the sitar and horn flourishes of “Damned,” smokes like a goddamned Uzi loaded with dry ice. A fine soundtrack to your next strychnine-laced night terror.