Friday Full-Length: Kyuss, …And the Circus Leaves Town
It’s easy to see where, if Kyuss had continued, …And the Circus Leaves Town could have become the model they would follow. Released on July 11, 1995, this 30-year-old fourth and final Kyuss full-length — also their third working with Chris Goss as producer, their second through Elektra Records, and their first with Alfredo Hernández (Across the River, Yawning Man) on drums, if you want to play it by the ordinals — once again moves the band forward from where they were the year prior on Welcome to Sky Valley (review here) in terms of sound.
This can be heard in the smoother tonality that typifies the 11-song/71-minute outbound desert loveletter. The band at this point — Hernández on drums, John Garcia on vocals, Josh Homme on guitar and Scott Reeder on bass — had started out pretty rough on 1991’s Wretch (review here), and really, the trajectory of their career from their demo (discussed here) onward is a linear narrative of increasing accessibility that, in the ’90s, probably would have had people calling them sellouts, if they weren’t already for signing to a major label. This holdover ethic from the waning-post-Cobain grunge era a few years prior feels like a harsh judgement against …And the Circus Leaves Town, but there’s no question that ambition is part of the Kyuss story, and the hooks of songs like “One Inch Man,” “Hurricane,” “El Rodeo,” the chug-stomping “Gloria Lewis” and even the sprawl of 11-minute pre-secret-tracks finale “Spaceship Landing” — when you put the CD in, you’ll see it says the track is 34 minutes long; secret tracks were a thing at the time; Nirvana famously did it on Nevermind — seem to be trying to answer the question of what comes next for the heavier end of rock and roll. They were not the only ones who would’ve been glad to step into that spot.
Commercial rock radio and print media at the time, funded and propped up by a decades-old industry infrastructure soon to collapse with the explosion of the internet (don’t worry, it’s back and worse because now it’s tech companies and AI), were all driven toward the word “alternative,” which was less a definition of style than a catchall for staid, major-label pop-rock given a veneer of meaning through navelgazing black and white payola videos on MTV and moody balladeering. In terms of commercial potential, Garcia‘s throaty vocal style, as heard when he’s pushing out “Tangy Zizzle” late in the record or igniting the surges of “El Rodeo,” was no doubt a limiting factor, but like Homme‘s guitar tone, his voice became clearer in delivery over time, and …And the Circus Leaves Town is accordingly the most business-viable release Kyuss had during their run.
The narrative holds that part of that is owed to Bjork‘s departure from the band. Any 
lineup change brings a shift in dynamic to any group — this is obvious and demonstrable in nearly all situations; it’s sky-is-blue-level insight — but in light of the fact that Homme was soon to go on to form Queens of the Stone Age and find the next-level commercial audience that Kyuss never garnered during their time, and the context of his flourishing songwriting in that band, …And the Circus Leaves Town has less personality divergence in its material than did Welcome to Sky Valley. Bjork was a punk rocker, like Oliveri; Ramones and early C.O.C., among others, were an influence he worked under as a part of Kyuss that Homme didn’t. Without him, even with Reeder contributing “Thee Ol’ Boozeroony” and the penultimate “Catamaran” being a cover of Hernández‘s prior outfit Yawning Man (whom he’d later rejoin), the distinctive punch that birthed “Gardenia” and “Green Machine” earlier in the band’s career was absent.
That’s a bigger change in Kyuss than most will acknowledge, but the fortunate part is that while it’s different and arguably watered-down in terms of impact (that’s not an argument I’m making, but one could), the record also happens to reside at the foundation of the genre of desert rock. Arguably, even more than Welcome to Sky Valley or 1992’s Blues for the Red Sun (review here), …And the Circus Leaves Town fostered definitive characteristics of style. The warmth of Reeder‘s bass. The realization of Garcia‘s voice as malleable between a croon and pushing it out. The focus on riffs and the building of grooves around them. Songs about who the hell even knows what that can hit has hard as “Phototropic” or capture a sweet melody like the start of “One Inch Man” from which one might diverge to invent the entire branch of desert-heavy that leans into landscaping psychedelia. These elements and more besides stand testament to the fact that while Homme is a stronger writer with a partner to work off of — something he’d show again (and again) in Queens of the Stone Age — he’s perfectly able to set a pattern in motion from which others can learn.
And of course others did, or we probably wouldn’t be here. Kyuss‘ work spread after the fact through somehow-organic internet word of mouth. It was not a corporate ad program or backroom music industry handshakes. Yes, the success of Queens of the Stone Age would’ve caused some to look back with curiosity to Homme‘s origins, but more than that, Kyuss‘ own merits and character were able to become better appreciated and as massively influential as they’ve been over the last three decades because of the added listener satisfaction of having found them. It couldn’t have happened any other way; Gen-X and elder Millennials bask in nostalgia for the notion of a traditional underground, desert parties, and so on, while younger converts are won through an appreciation for something classic and the surrounding genresphere that’s been birthed since.
In this way, what Kyuss created carries forward. It is worldwide. Heavy rock and roll is in every major city and pockets besides, but it remains largely unacknowledged by the broader population. Less generously, it’s like a cult. Obviously, this isn’t solely the doing of any one band, even if that band is Kyuss. The likes of Monster Magnet, the Melvins, Sleep, Neurosis and Godflesh, among many others, had roles to play as well. But among single contributors to the shape of what desert rock would become, Kyuss stand alone. They solidified the methodologies of earlier bands like Across the River and Yawning Man — even going so far as to incorporate members of these bands on later releases — and set a template that remains a point of inspiration spread daily across the planet. And perhaps its greatest accomplishment, it retains its identity and presence after 30 years of other bands trying to sound just like it. One can sit and thought-experiment what might’ve been had the circus not left town, but the legacy of Kyuss‘ last long-player is unshakable.
As always, I hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading.
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Last Saturday we went to a WPHL game in Newark, to see the New York Sirens play Vancouver, who are a new team this year. We’ve gone a few times now, after hitting the Pride game last year and having it be so incredible. I wouldn’t want The Pecan to play hockey, though she does skate — she’s had one serious concussion in her life already and doesn’t need another; I’m a firm believer in avoiding TBI — but she likes going too and it’s a fun, easy thing because it’s not that expensive, it’s not overcrowded, and the vibe is killer. Can recommend Womens Professional Hockey League.
But anyway, we’re at the game. I offer to go check the merch to see if they have a throw blanket for our chilly-in-the-arena daughter and while I’m walking around the wrong way to the merch stand, I pass a mother and her child walking the other way. A little boy, wouldn’t have been older than six. As I went past with a little smile thinking of when my own kid was that age a couple years ago, the kid turned his head and — with no awareness or consideration for anyone actually being there as is developmentally appropriate for someone his age — let out a pusher of a cough, a cough-huff, directly at me.
Having lived through the covid-19 pandemic, this registered in my brain as it does pretty much anytime someone coughs in my proximity when I’m out. I don’t expect this will ever change. It is a generational trauma that, to-date, no one really talks about because apparently that’s somehow easier. “Well, that’s it, I’m sick now,” I said to myself.
Turned out I was right. By Monday I was dragging and by Tuesday I was what both my dear mother and Ian Anderson of Jethro Tull would refer to as a “dead duck.” The Patient Mrs. made me take a covid test and it was positive. I tried to go to the urgent care for paxlovid but the shitheel doctor was like “sorry the CDC says don’t give out medicine that works anymore” and I wanted to kick him in the dick so bad but of course just called him useless and left instead. Not to fully sidetrack, but I was pretty stoked on the review I left in the urgent care app. Here it is for my own later enjoyment:
Provider refused to give me medicine to treat my illness. Pretty much the only reason doctors exist in the first place. I would not go to him again, would not tell friends or family to see him, or ever set foot in City MD again if I can help it. From the wait time being wrong so I sat in the waiting room with my Covid for half an hour to the entire endeavor being a waste of time, I would have difficulty being less satisfied than I was with the experience. That guy can fuck himself off the side of a cliff.
Lest you think I only give positive assessments.
Yesterday was the first day I felt incrementally better. Today I feel about where I felt yesterday. I have little stamina for doing. Cough, fever, brainfog (though that’s nothing new), fatigue, sore throat, headache, general misery — all the hits. Last time I had covid was in 2022 and I feel like the horror went on longer, but Tuesday and Wednesday were pretty intense. I have to wonder how bad Wednesday might’ve been had that motherfucker actually let me have medicine.
The really bonny news is that The Patient Mrs., who has been testing a couple times a day for the last two days, is negative despite having developed a cough and though we kept The Pecan home today out of an abundance of caution — she’s watching Zeltik videos on her own laptop; her mornings usually start with YouTubing these days — she doesn’t actually seem to be sick.
When I finish this, I’m going to go buy myself some weed gummies and buy her a Lego for Mikulas, which is like the Hungarian Xmas, which is today. Just something small to start a new tradition. How the rest of my weekend plays out I think depends in part on how much running errands kicks my ass, so we’ll see how it goes.
In the meantime, this was the busiest news week in the last four months — because of course it was as I could barely lift my head let alone post, though I did — and I still have stuff to catch up on. The Heads announced an album — hell, Suplecs announced an album! — and Solace announced they were going back to Europe, for crying out loud. Acid King and Monolord tours. Multiple fest announcements. And today is friggin’ Bandcamp Friday so I woke up to an extra 300 emails. It’s been busy is what I’m saying and next week will be too, but it’s time for me to figure out when I’m going to do my year-end post and knuckle-down and start putting that together. That’s a multi-day, no-posts-otherwise process, so I like to do it Xmas week when it’s otherwise quiet. I’ll try and sort that timing this weekend.
And if you want a Bandcamp Friday recommendation, Arbouretum have their entire CD catalog on sale for $20 and I bought it because they’re rad. Maybe I’ll do another catalog series haha: https://arbouretum.bandcamp.com/merch/the-arbouretum-cd-complete-collection
That’s not an ad and I’m in no way compensated for including that link. I just think the music is good.
Okay, this has gone long enough. Whatever you’re up to this weekend, if your virus is on the up or down swing or you’re clear all the way, hydrate, have fun and be safe. These are still dark times. Fuck fascism forever.
FRM.
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Tags: ...And the Circus Leaves Town, California, Elektra Records, Kyuss, Kyuss ...And the Circus Leaves Town, Palm Desert
