Livin’ The Dream

“It’s been decided,” write The Stone Foxes on their official website. “We don’t want wanna be anything but a rock ‘n’ roll band. We wanna hit hard, go fast, get low, get moody, and just do what feels good… We’re six dudes who believe that rock ‘n’ roll can move mountains, and we’re gonna play it until we move one.”

Well that’s refreshing, kind of. A band that actually wants to be pigeonholed. In this age of genre-bending post-ambient trip-hop punk is most likely dead and quiet is the new loud, such a sentiment is almost commendable. Granted, earning the title of “a rock ‘n’ roll band” via “getting moody” isn’t any more of a lofty aspiration than achieving a tertiary understanding of the blues scale, but we applaud The Stone Foxes for their charming determination. The San Francisco band boasts an impressive six-member lineup, including twin guitars and a full-time keyboardist. It all makes for quite the packed, clamorous atmosphere on Twelve Spells, their latest full-length. Major hype boosts for the new record came in the form of the spot they managed to snag opening for The Black Keys on their recent U.S. tour, and a very well-received SXSW appearance. Not to mention a Jack Daniels advertisement which, as far as TV spots go, is about as classic rock ‘n’ roll as you can get. The Stone Foxes also took the novel approach of drip-feeding every track on their newest album over 12 months, releasing one single on the first Friday of every month. The word’s still out on the strategy’s viability, but it’s an interesting idea.

Opener “Eye for Love” sports the foot-dragging, thudding, muted toms that marked the subtle touch of Danger Mouse’s production on records like Brothers and Portugal. The Man’s Evil Friends, despite his suspicious absence. Meanwhile “It Ain’t Nothing” sounds remarkably like Icky Thump-era Jack White, from the weird guitar filters that sound like vintage keyboards to the strained, tracheal white man blues voice. Compared to The White Stripes’ “no frills” M.O., however, there are… slightly more frills, including a notably dense keyboard section, a harmonica lead and far flashier drum frills, er, fills. It errs more on the Albert King, Stevie Ray Vaughn-style “I’m contorting my face to convey to my audience how much I’m feeling these notes right now” blues than Jack ever dared venture. They tumble even deeper into the dusty Delta rabbit hole on “Jericho,” a soulful ragtime piano ballad complete with barroom gang vocals, stomps, claps, Biblical lyrics and yet another a hilariously inauthentic (but still fun) white-boy electric harmonica solo.

In “I Want to Be You,” singer Shannon Koehler goes on about wanting to break into the home of a woman with “shapely hips and ruby lips” over the top of a big cock-rockin’ Led Zeppelin riff that could possibly be misconstrued as sexy, if the explicit desire to “pick your locks” and other home invasion metaphors were ratcheted back. “This Town” is chock full of blue collar, rock ‘n roll-ish concerns, from small town ennui (“All of my friends meet at the corner store / Get in the car and drive the same places as before, blowin’ smoke rings”) to romantic clichés (“Don’t even try to hide that you need me tonight / I need you tonight”). If recent interviews can be believed, lead singer Koehler’s body’s refusal to agree with him – resulting in eleven separate open-heart surgeries for a number of different health issues – inspired the album’s only real change of pace, “Cold Like A Killer.” The looming noir soundscape, filled out by bent seventh chords and prudent single-note piano is the sole piece of evidence to suggest that The Stone Foxes can exercise dynamic restraint in small bursts.

“She Said Riot” whips up a surf rock feel with a jangling, bass-drenched guitar riff and snappy drum beat, but the whole appeal of the genre piece feels crowded by the layered vocals and two guitars and three different sounding organs playing the exact same melody. It’s the same deal on “Locomotion” (The Stone Foxes are so faux-retro they actually have a song called “Locomotion”). It would be kind of punk rock if it wasn’t for the synth organs and talk of “Westbound trains” and rippin’ guitar leads in which The Foxes finally put those Orange amplifiers and vintage Gibsons to good use. “My Place” is a nostalgic country tune stuffed with lots of slide guitar twang to spare. Here The Foxes wax nostalgic about a dilapidated old home that “ain’t much / But reminds me of my baby’s touch”. Full of warm-hearted complaints from how the draft coming from the windows forces the occupants keep each other warm, to the way the lights don’t work. In the same vein as the insistent harmonica, it’s heartwarming enough to excuse the excessive cheese.

Even though it feels like The Stone Foxes just burst on to the scene, you can’t really call a group that’s just released their fourth record a “new band.” At the end of Twelve Spells, it feels natural to anticipate the group’s next album, to witness their style develop from its current state of contemporary blues whomp to something more nuanced and original. But The Stone Foxes have limited their aspirations. They’ve stated their mission. By all accounts they’ve achieved their rock ’n’ roll dreams with Twelve Spells, a rock album with nods to blues and soul and even punk. Hopefully the inscribed goal of the next record is a little less complacent.