Rolling Stone
CMJ New Music
CMJ New Music Report
Spin
Mtv
Billboard
USA Today
Rolling Stone Review
by David Fricke
Maybe it's a little early for Scott Weiland to be going the solo way. He's made only three albums with Stone Temple Pilots; things were getting real interesting with the freak-pop kicks of 1996's Tiny Music . . . Songs From the Vatican Gift Shop. The singer hasn't entirely digested his influences, either. There are telltale tracks of David Bowie, the Beatles and the solo John Lennon all over 12 Bar Blues. And at times Weiland is blessed with too much inspiration. In "About Nothing," he wedges a spaghetti-western sound-effects bridge into the knockout mix of pinched-distortion sleaze and cracked-crystal vocal harmonies. It's as if, after four years of drug- and STP-related crises, Weiland wants to cram as much life as he can into his next last chance.
But that urgency and energy count for a lot. One of the best things about 12 Bar Blues is its heady, willfully messy momentum. You can almost feel Weiland hugging the rails as he careens from pop-science sound games in "Cool Kiss" and "Jimmy Was a Stimulator" (cheese-ball beat boxes, scuzzed-up synths) to the plain-spoken, plainly sung "Son" ("You make the world a better place to find") and the smart alterna- glam grooming of "Mockingbird Girl." Vocally, Weiland has backed away from the big-rock anguish of STP hits like "Plush"; he sings in high-pitched close-up over the plastic static of the guitars in "Desperation #5." And in "Barbarella," a clever spinoff from Bowie's "Rock 'n' Roll Suicide," the band shuts down for a verse as Weiland plays the hapless rock-star fuck-up with believable self-loathing: "Grab a scale and guess the weight of all the pain I've given with my name/I'm a selfish piece of shit."
Even when Weiland seems to throw words and music together just to see what sticks - like the great nonsense couplet in "Barbarella," "You sing the pink love fuzz/And dance the musty queer" -- he makes a potent kind of sense. Ricocheting from art noise to mad pop, free association to outright confession, 12 Bar Blues is a record about looking for reason, about negotiating a balance between rational obligation and excited, often destructive, impulse. "The Date" -- a slow ballad that sounds as though Weiland dipped the tape in an acid bath during mixing -- is just Weiland on vocals and all instruments, screaming at the end like a guy wearing all his mistakes on his shoulders and keen to shake 'em off at the first sign of daylight.
12 Bar Blues isn't really a rock album, or even a pop album. Weiland, out on his own, has simply made an honest album -- honest in its confusion, ambition and indulgence. It was worth the risk.
° ° ° ° °
CMJ New Music
by Anne Marie Cruz
IT'S EASY TO HATE 12 BAR BLUES IF YOU'RE expecting a Stone Temple Pilots redux (or blues, for that matter). Surprisingly, for his first solo release, former STP vocalist Scott Weiland reorients his stylistic compass away from points Pacific northwest toward English glam rock. Abandoning his trademark growl in favor of nasal, Bowie-inspired vocals, Weiland maintains his former band's taste for shameless, but generally worthy, rip-offs. Especially good are "Lazydivey," itself a Beatles' catalogue, and the XTC-ish "Mockingbird Girl." Weiland tries to mesh all of the borrowed elements together in interesting ways; his experimenting includes the cabaret-flavored "Lady Your Roof Brings Me Down" (guest starring Sheryl Crow on accordion), chunky dance beats á la Tone Loc's "Wild Thing," theremin, mellotron, some Daniel Lanois and plenty of piano. Since his imitations are so ambitious, the crappy portions of the record (approximately half, mostly involving Weiland's repetitive, moronic screeching) are forgivable. Still, his jarringly silly lyrics ("A processed pig is white trash meat/Some people call it Spain"), superfluous use of numbers ("More deep than space #9"? Hello, White Album) and uneven execution serve as nagging reminders that this isn't Weiland's territory quite yet. The epic sprawl of glam rock does seem to suit him, though. Hopefully, he'll be this interesting next time around, without the shock element working to his advantage.
° ° ° ° °
CMJ New Music Report
by Cheryl Botchick
Now that the DeLeo brothers have taken their shot at post-Stone Temple Pilots success with their new band Talk Show, it's Scott Weiland's turn at the plate with 12 Bar Blues, and all indications suggest that it will be an out-of-the-park home run for the embattled singer. After weathering a harrowing couple of years under the spell of hard drugs, Weiland's reappearance is the coup de gras to what a number of fans (and even some of those cantankerous critics) were suspecting ever since the final, somewhat mysterious, yet enjoyable, STP effort. Specifically, Weiland was the creative visionary (if not simply the sparkling presence) that made STP a success. He's a rock star in every way that it counts: decadent, stylish, glamorous, Bacchanalian in his vices, on top of the world while at the same time fighting his own demons. But most of all, he's an uncanny entertainer. 12 Bar Blues bears this out wonderfully: Anyone who's been around the block before will hear Weiland's excessive mining of Bowie, Beatles, T. Rex, et. al., but those who've lived on the block for years will still admire his savvy mix of the music's best into his own, larger-than-life style. 12 Bar Blues is the juggernaut of glammy rock songs that exploit Weiland's now-unmistakable rock `n' roll croon to the fullest. Expect to be hearing him on the radio and MTV for months.
° ° ° ° °
Spin
by Jane Dark
By now, grunge lacks even the gravity to hold groups together. Some rise, some fall, and some just splinter off side projects like the new releases from Scott Weiland and Jerry Cantrell, a lost Pilot and an unchained Alice, respectively.
Clean and solo, Scott Weiland remains the clown prince of kooks, or at least the clown prince of cuckoo-bird aesthetics. The cuckoo, an irresponsible bird, lays its eggs in other birds' nests knowing they'll care for the poor things. The Weiland, similarly, is not above tricking Pearl Jam fans into raising his young, even as he flirts with Led Zep and trip-hop. We like this about the Weiland; we marvel at his embraceable shamelessness. And in continuing this cycle, 12 Bar Blues lays an egg of confused flakery and off-putting put-ons while still sleazing its way into our homes and hearts.
Indeed, the lone Weiland is more sonically incoherent and arbitrary than ever (no more of those annoying DeLeo brothers trying to hold the Stone Temple Pilots sound together). When he rips off "Jane Says," old Billy Joel, NIN, Bing Crosby, whole Beatles bridges, and Pauline Kael (this is not a complete list) it doesn't come off as some trendy postmodern reference game. More like a well-dressed guy who woke up with total amnesia and a note in his pocket reminding him that he made records.
This is not a bad thing. "Barbarella" is the best Bowie song in years (right down to the Reznor drum sound!), nailing the post-party exhausted eroticism that set Bowie apart from mere glam. The electronic grind of "Cool Kiss" keeps falling out of pitch in mysterious ways, tracing the gray line between avant-garde and just really fucked-up. "Opposite Octave Reaction" runs with the foxes and blitzes like a ballroom. Take those three, "Jimmy Was a Stimulator," and "About Nothing"; put 'em on an EP; slap on a label describing it as "art-kitsch '70s-philia on the smoothed-out pop-industrial tip"; and you're a genius.
But if you are instead the Weiland, you haven't a clue, and do things like green-light "Lady, Your Roof Brings Me Down" as the lead single--the least appealing song on the album (unless you think cabaret music is where it's at, but are annoyed by how tuneful that Tom Waits guy is). Weiland is perhaps less a cuckoo than an aimless, charismatic child, repeating phrases he doesn't understand and remaining oblivious to his own incidental charms.
° ° ° ° °
Mtv Online
by Neal Weiss
It's nearly second nature to bash Scott Weiland. Critics have been doing it for years, citing the vocalist and his band Stone Temple Pilots as unoriginal musical opportunists who hopped the grunge gravy train. And when he has the chutzpah to declare in the press bio for his solo debut 12 Bar Blues that grunge is dead, you wanna pull him aside, put your lips to his ear and yell, "No duh, Scott, who in hell do you think killed it?" So, you think, why give this rock star poseur the time of day?
But then a couple things happen that mess with your frontline stance. First, you discover that producer/magician Daniel Lanois (U2, Bob Dylan, Luscious Jackson) helped a bit in shaping the sound of the CD. (Blair Lamb is credited as the main producer.) Lanois is not one to work with just anyone, and his participation usually garners instant cred for the artist in question. But Scott Weiland? Then you give the album a spin and something really strange occurs: you don't hate it like you want to. You almost even like it.
Truth be told, 12 Bar Blues is not bad at all. Shedding his Vedder-y skin, Weiland craftily and vigorously infuses Beatle melodies ("About Nothing" nearly drop-and-drags the hook from "She Said") with Bowie-esque glam and the larger-than-life clang of U2's Pop. Not entirely original, but not nearly as derivative as STP. First single "Barbarella," with its throaty, thrusting chorus, is an ambitious jaunt that outlasts its six-minute-plus duration. "Mocking Bird Girl" is a giddy glam romp, and "Lady, Your Roof Brings Me Down," previously featured on the Great Expectations soundtrack, waltzes with Transylvania flair. Essentially a junkie's diary (prevailing lines include "Barbarella come and save me from my misery, can't you see it's a disease" and "she got nothing but she's working at the candy store"), Weiland surprises with the melancholy "Son," in which he sings, "Now go to sleep you little child of mine, I wish I had the beauty you hold inside." Sure, it's nothing new, but it's quite the unguarded moment coming from a rock star like Scott Weiland.
° ° ° ° °
Billboard Review
On his solo debut, Scott Weiland exhibits the same gift for searing lyrics, memorable melodies, and buzz-saw industrial sounds he brought to Stone Temple Pilots, along with some added ingredients - namely, colorful arrangements that spotlight such non-rock instruments as vibes, strings, mellotron, and theremin. An album of dense, personal songs, "12 Bar Blues" features the rock epic "Barbarella," the Iggy Pop-reminiscent "Cool Kiss," the catchy, quasi-psychedelic "Mockingbird Girl," and "Lady, Your Roof Brings Me Down," previewed on the "Great Expectations" soundtrack. Modern rock outlets are likely to take the strongest interest, with mainstream rock, college, and even pop airplay a possibility. Weiland's fervent fan base will ensure strong sales out of the box, and the project's inherent quality should keep it front and center for months. An impressive album that sheds new light on an enigmatic talent.
° ° ° ° °
USA Today
by Chris Cousino
(U-WIRE) ANN ARBOR, Mich. -- Since the release of Stone Temple Pilots' lackluster "Tiny Music ... Songs From the Vatican Gift Shop" two years ago, lead singer Scott Weiland has had a full plate of things to do in life - kick a heroin habit, divorce a wife, watch fellow STP members play in the horrid band Talk Show and finally, record a solo album.
With his solo debut "12 Bar Blues," Weiland deserves a little credit in pulling out all the stops and answering to no one, breaking free from the stigmatic grunge label that plagued STP in the form of heavy criticism. Drastically cutting any ties to STP, "Blues" is very experimental, blending various forms of rock, pop, blues and dance. Weiland mixes guitar, drums, accordion, piano, xylophone and the ever-present bouncing beat box to find an enclave of different sounds with each new song.
In all this experimentation, however, Weiland strikes out - "Blues" is plain boring. Each new track goes into something beginning with some intriguing beat or whimsical piano that ends up to be nothing but Weiland warbling in his lethargic, raspy voice.
Outside influences are abundant on this album as Weiland's vocal style is much too reminiscent of David Bowie in the early '80s. Weiland also borrows from the likes of the Beatles, Elvis Costello and Beck, among others.
If Weiland fans aren't already sick from "Trippin on a Hole in a Paper Heart," they will surely be very wearied and junkied after listening to the numerous songs on "Blues" that deal with depression and addiction. In the first single, Weiland moans to "Barbarella," asking "Come save me from my misery/ Can't you see it's a disease." "Divider" then talks about "A junkie, he ain't shit/ Some of them get famous/ But most of them just get it."
Well, listeners, get this. Most of the songs are just chunks of sound thrown together, producing some bothersome noise. Different music styles are traversed in single songs, yet they don't fuse together well. There is, however, one really fantastic song, "Where's the Man," which exists along the same lines of STP's "Pretty Penny" and "Creep."
"Man" opens with a fade in and quick fade out of the blues guitar strumming. An acoustic guitar, a wood block and a violin set up a dark, dreary facade as Weiland's uncharacteristically smooth, pained voice portrays a passionate character for the scene. The slow drums provide a solid constant as the guitars explode along with piano and synthesizers.
With a great song like "Man," it is a disappointment that songs like "Cool Kiss" and "Jimmy Was a Stimulator" even were recorded. These place together very noisy guitars, the beatbox and keyboards while Weiland wails away his pointless words. "Desperation #5" is almost laughable, opening with a beat similar to Tone Loc's "Wild Thing."
Another wild track, "Lady, Your Roof Brings Me Down," includes a piano, an accordion and a violin playing a melodic waltz. "Lady," also on the "Great Expectations" soundtrack, is a one of the strange experiments that actually works, mixing a guitar-driven melody and Weiland's straining vocal range with the tight, sexy waltz.
The interesting waltz of "Lady" and the powerful "Man" will not hold the album up from sinking into the "Blues" of used CD bins. If Weiland could just find the spark he has on such great STP hits as "Creep" and "Big Empty," he may create a solid album. Even "Man" has this spark as he sings, "I'll tell you what you wanna hear." What you wanna hear - well Scott, not your album, that is for sure.
*~HOME~*