Album Review: Clutch, Sunrise on Slaughter Beach
It’s tempting to try to read more into Sunrise on Slaughter Beach, which is the first Clutch full-length of the ‘post-pandemic’ era. It’s also tempting to not. It’s been a long and eventful four years since the mostly-Maryland-based four-piece issued Book of Bad Decisions (review here), and they’ve reportedly said the idea behind the new record, aside from apparently honoring the horseshoe crabs that wash onto the shore in Delaware each year, was to keep it light in terms of lyrical themes. So, “Red Alert (Boss Metal Zone)” starts with a sample from Blade Runner‘s Voight-Kampff test. The semi-title-track “Slaughter Beach” talks about “blue bloods” and naked moonlight shucking.
Even “Mountain of Bone,” which would seem to acknowledge through metaphor the loss of life and livelihood wrought by Covid-19 between 2020-2021, doesn’t push so far as to name names. Am I crazy in thinking an Anthony Fauci namedrop would happen at some point? Would you ever expect there to be an attempted insurrection on American soil and Clutch wouldn’t write a song about it?
Issued through their own Weathermaker Music, Sunrise on Slaughter Beach finds the band — vocalist/sometimes-guitarist Neil Fallon, guitarist Tim Sult, bassist Dan Maines, drummer Jean Paul Gaster; all essential personnel — playing largely to their strengths in groove and storytelling, actively choosing to step back from lyrically commenting on the news of the day, taking few chances in sound and style apart from a bit of theremin from J. Robbins on side B’s “Skeletons on Mars” and backing vocals on the “Mountain of Bone” and “Mercy Brown” from Frenchie Davis and Deborah Bond.
The production job from Tom Dalgety (Ghost, Opeth, Turbowolf) conveys the stage-honed vitality the band brings to the material; the songs feel written to be delivered live, which has been the case over at least the last two decades of Clutch‘s catalog, now 13 full-lengths strong, despite some flourish of guitar layering in the chorus of “Mountain of Bone” and organ sounds on “Mercy Brown” and the likewise brooding-blues closer “Jackhammer Our Names.” Arrangement details like this aren’t necessarily new, though, and as most of Sunrise on Slaughter Beach happens at a comfortable-sounding mid-tempo push, each side opening fast with “Red Alert (Boss Metal Zone)” and “We Strive for Excellence” launching A and B, respectively, and closing with more subdued fare, the prevailing spirit of the record feels safe. It’s a safe album.
And that’s fine, since “safety” for Clutch invariably means operating at a level of craft and performance most bands could only dream of. I say that as a fan of the band, but the fact remains, despite a generation of heavy rock dudes growing beards and trying to emulate both the signature we’ll-just-put-funk-and-noise-rock-together-and-see-what-happens riffing, ever-locked-in instrumental chemistry and literary quirk of their lyrics, Clutch stand alone. Sunrise on Slaughter Beach offers hooks in bulk across songs that feel purposefully lean, giving hints of where the jams might go live without ever losing sight of the structures from which they might depart, as in “Nosferatu Madre,” where cleverness wins the day as they turn back to the chorus to finish in just under three and a half minutes, ready to be packed into a nightly setlist typed in all-caps, photo taken and posted on social media. Like you do.
Worth noting that Sunrise on Slaughter Beach is the shortest Clutch album of the 13 they’ve done — Book of Bad Decisions was 15 songs/56 minutes, and it would not be the first time they approached a record in direct response to the one before it — and among the tightest, even as it moves through the reaches of side B in “Skeletons on Mars” and “Three Golden Horns,” the latter distinguished by Fallon‘s intoning that “jazz music corrupts our youth,” there isn’t really enough time for something to come across as filler or not be memorable at least in a “oh yeah this one” kind of way.
No doubt there’s some amount of security in the band writing songs like “Skeletons on Mars” or even “Slaughter Beach,” big choruses and steady verses using familiar elements and time-tested methods. As the first verse of “Mountain of Bone” describes, the risk would be in stopping: “To climb the mountain is no easy task/But it’s so much harder coming down/All the torches of the party have all gone dark/Hungry mouths surround.” There are lives and livelihoods at stake. And one wonders if perhaps some of Clutch‘s stepping back from social critique in lyrics isn’t, consciously or not, driven by a desire not to alienate their audience, largely white and male and thus more demographically likely to be on board with the electric slide into fascism that’s been taking place over the last few (really 40, but golly it’s ramped up) years.
I go back to the naming of names. Why does Condoleeza Rice get mentioned in “Mob Goes Wild” from 2004’s Blast Tyrant (discussed here; reissue review here), or Dick Cheney in “Mr. Shiny Cadillackness” from 2007’s From Beale Street to Oblivion (reissue review here), and nothing here for right-wing stooges like Mike Pence or that guy selling pillows? That guy in the viking hat. The politicization of vaccines. As grim as the times have been, there’s absurdity to coincide, and in putting blinders on to that, Sunrise on Slaughter Beach feels a bit like it’s missing the moment.
There’s a bit of daredevil casting in “We Strive for Excellence” with the lines, “We deliver where Knievel failed/What’s a little bit of tetanus/Pledge allegiance to the denim flag/And strive for excellence,” and there’s no debating that when it comes to going, Clutch have gone, are going, will go, but as with 2009’s Strange Cousins From the West (discussed here; also discussed here), which was the first studio offering through their own label, the real danger is meta. The risk they’re taking is in touring, in engaging their audience again and maybe they’re right to be tentative in doing that. Again, it’s been an eventful four years and for what exactly do Clutch need death threats?
Ultimately, there’s nothing on Sunrise on Slaughter Beach for Clutch fans — once more, I count myself in that number — to complain about. The songwriting is unmistakable and accessible for listeners new or old, and their collective personality — of which Fallon is a defining outward presence, but to which Gaster, Maines and Sult all significantly contribute — is as convincing an argument as ever to show up to the gig when they hit your town. 31 years after their founding, the prevailing sentiment is to be happy they’re still going at all, and maybe for right now, survival and the relief born thereof can own the day. And if one Clutch album is a setup for the to-be-contrary intentions of the subsequent, they might just be ready to riot next time.
No puedo esperar
I saw where Neil said using names in songs dates the material, and he wanted universal themes
Yeah, younger folk than me probably think Condoleezza Rice is some sort of fancy food dish.
in a polarized world, taking political stances as a band can decidedly alienate portions of your audience. I am not surprised there are no names cited for that reason and also for the reason that a lot of us look to music as an escape…. Clutch>Politics
Thanks for the review – I’ve got this one headed my way already. Been a fan of Neil and the guys from way back when I lived in Maryland. Huge respect and hats off to them. Neil does satire so well so I get what you’re saying, pull a John Oliver and let’s get some political shit aired out in rhyme! But I get what they do and it’s not always the case – sometimes a viral pandemic can just reset the basics.
Trust me, a song about how great vaccine and mask mandates were as well as the benefits of government shutdowns of businesses and schools would not age well. There are plenty of other bands out there that constantly preach boilerplate leftism, glad Clutch isn’t one of them.