Weiland’s first solo offering, 1998’s 12 Bar Blues, got a bad rap- and rightfully so- it’s a goddamned mess. But there’s a pained, delicate elegance to it that still resonates after all these years. It’s a beautiful mess, shrouded in a haze of dependance. And damned if we don’t just love our fucked-up rock stars.
So where does that leave us? Well, put simply, Happy In Galoshes is a ridiculous album, but that’s not altogether a bad thing. It’s a chemistry-set explosion of artistic self-indulgence that proves the troubled singer is much better off the junk. I’ve got no idea if he’s actually dropped the needle or not, and this recent Rock The Vote PSA seems to indicate the latter. But Galoshes has the presentation and even keel of a stone sober album. It’s dynamic and more than a little fascinating, the sound of a man who’s climbed all the mountains and couldn’t be less interested in making a market splash anymore.
“There’s no rules, I don’t have to worry about radio playing it,” Weiland recently said in an interview. “At my age, I just do what I wanna do. There’s art and there’s commerce, and I’ve already accomplished the commerce part of my career.” Sellable sex rock it’s certainly not, and many a Velvet Revolver / Stone Temple Pilots fan will surely step right back out of these Galoshes, none the happier for it. But Weiland’s dedication to songwriting and arrangement is profoundly more colorful than its decade-old predecessor. He takes sharp lefts right out of the gate with the forgettable Brit-pop love jam "Missing Cleveland." To be honest, it sounds like shit, and is a discouraging opener on an album I’ve already got an eyebrow cocked for. But I didn’t expect to like it all- this is definitely a Baskin Robbins type of record.
The production, done by Weiland and Doug Grean (Velvet Revolver, Sheryl Crow, Crystal Method) with select tracks by Steve Albini, sounds mostly raw and naked, serving Weiland’s supposed newfound clarity well. "Killing Me Sweetly" is actually a pretty fantastic slow jam- a soft cello under spanish sunset guitars and a sweet, loving melody. "Big Black Monster" is, somehow, more Gnarls Barkley than Weiland. There’s not a shade of STP or Axl’s old band to be found here.
It’s clear that Weiland’s riding his own wave this time around, playing with all kinds of fucked up colors and ending up on the impersonation side of the artistic scale. He does a great Costello impression on "Blind Confusion" (watch out for the chorus), twangs a little country Dylan on "Tangle With Your Mind," and dabbles in straight-up choir boy on album closer "Be Not Afraid." The swaying drunkenness of "Beautiful Day" carries Weiland’s delicate ascension to full Lennon impression, and two and a half minutes in, I’m tempted to check iTunes to make sure I’m not listening to the Beatles.
There’s more than a few self-sabotaging sections of songs on Galoshes that leave you wishing someone had reeled him in a little bit- whether it’s a chorus, breakdown or bridge, there’s something every so often that slips a wedge into the flow and drains the atmosphere. The digital bleepery and synth atmospherics fit nicely with Weiland’s delicate and slightly Yorke-ish falsetto at the onset of Crash, but the chorus ruins everything.
"Arch Angel" is a strange but heartwarming dose of feel-good Christmastime coziness. There are simply no excuses, however, for the steaming pile that is "Paralysis." Adrian Young, Tony Kanal and Tom Dumont of No Doubt lend their talents to this one, which speaks for itself, I’d say.
As far as shameless self-indulgence goes, you don’t get much more of a living definition than track six, a devoted cover of Bowie’s "Fame". With Paul Oakenfold, no less. Scott’s professed his Bowie love many times over the years, but the cover was entirely unnecessary. "Ashes To Ashes" or "Panic In Detroit" would’ve been much less obvious and way cooler.
Weiland’s trademark vocal slither is unrecognizable on the somber dedication hymnal "Be Not Afraid," rounding out a much more solid solo album than its predecessor.
Happy In Galoshes sounds like exactly what it is: an album by a guy who’s been to Hell and back enough times to know all the trackmarks landmarks along the way, is taking some time to stretch out his formidable musical versatility, and could give a shit about what you think of it.
CraveOnline's Rating: 7 out of 10
