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Steven Seagal: Songs from the crystal cave

19/11/07 || The Duff

Yesterday was a very sad day for me, as I discovered that, much to my self-disgust (I’m sorry I let you down all this time, Steve), I have spent up to three years of my life completely oblivious to the man of all men having released not one, but two complete full-length albums. I can’t remember how I came across “Songs…”, as so strong were my feelings upon seeing Steven Seagal on a CD cover with those piercing, eagle eyes of wisdom steel, holding not what I originally took to be a pump-action shotgun, but a six-string Fender the body of which matched the color of SS’s bronzed, tougher than leather Apache skin, that I suddenly blacked out from over-excitement, as if being laid cold from a karate-chop to the back of the head from this very King amongst mortals, an all-knowing guru with riches that transcend mere moneys and good looking women, fast cars and swimming pools filled with nacho-chips; quicker than a viper, with a mind like a whip, I had to discover what I had been missing all these years.

“Songs…” is an album running the gamut of musical styles, including country, blues, reggae, that stupid style of music sung by Jean Paul that is unclassifiable, soul, pop, techno, R n’ B, rock, funk, middle-eastern music, gospel, penis, you name it, Steven plays it (I’m missing a couple, I’m sure; basically all save metal); what’s more, he plays it fucken well. For the most part, as a solo player, his talents are very much withdrawn – this guy is a subtle player, which personally I believe to be a sign of a great musician. When he does let loose, you can tell ol’ SS has spent some time aside from avenging his dead friend and put in the hours practicing – some of the licks he plays shoot out of nowhere, and seriously impress by taking inspiration from all of the great players (ranging from the simple, down-played style of B.B. King to the eccentric swiftness of Eric Johnson); I pick up a big Santana vibe too, and where this once legendary guitar-player has tarnished his reputation with repetitious playing and predictable guitar patterns, Steven takes us back to what he was once renowned for – impeccable feel and phrasing; to think that this actor whose creased expression you couldn’t flatten out with a two tonne brick holds his own against music’s best is shocking, but unsurprising in some ways considering his devotion to perfecting the other aspects of his life that enable him to single-handedly survive a battle with a pack of lions.

His rhythm playing is another domain where he truly shines, and I must say, musically, this album is a thick tapestry of sound. All is overlaid with Steven Seagal’s sweet, honey-suckle vocals dripping with feel – an old blues vibe is what I predominantly get from his vocal style, filled with the hurt of a man who is tired of frowning at the world all the goddamn time. There are many guest appearances too (including Stevie Wonder – it could only be someone who hasn’t seen his films), all of which are commendable, if not so much my thing when compared to the rock, blues side of the man. I don’t know if he’s trying to tailor his product to a wider audience, but I couldn’t care less – the man has paid his dues to society by saving the world countless times; he can do what he damn well pleases. Although there are some tracks that fall a little flat (namely the pop tracks, and some of the reggae, purely for being not to my tastes), I can’t fault the man for his ambition, and the great tracks on this disc are truly mind-blowing (not a joke to be found here). Lyrically, the album is equally a success, as it deals with Steven’s Indian and Buddhist beliefs, good lovin’, Steve’s impressions of current world affairs and “da punani” (again, not a joke to be found here); can’t go wrong, really, considering the man is at one with the Earth, and possesses the wisdom of many generations.

Now I know you’re saying “How the fuck is this metal?”, and you would be correct in some ways, but then I ask you – is being able to remove a man’s eyeballs, testicles and penis in one fluid motion not metal? Is being able to save the USA from nuclear attack with armaments stolen upon a hijacked U.S. Navy boat not metal? Is taking out over twenty hostile Navy Seals, a submarine, and the fucken legend that is GARY BUSEY not metal? I think you know all the answers to these questions. Steven Seagal has lived these experiences, and yet on “Songs…” still manages to find his sensitive inner man once thought lost in the turmoil and struggles of war, drug lords and fat men with mustaches, stronger than ever, full of love and singing to the many women with whom he has undoubtedly shared many orgasms. Steven, you’re what we would call “the right stuff” – keep flying with the eagles and living your dreams.

(Note by The Lord: It’s now official: You have fucken lost all touch with reality. Did you just review a record by fucken Steven Seagal?!)

7 karate-chops to your face out of 10.

Information
Released: 2004
Label: Warner
Website: www.stevenseagal.info
Band
Steven Seagal: vocals
Steven Seagal: guitars
Steven Seagal: guitars
Steven Seagal: bass
Steven Seagal: drums

Tracklist
01. Girl It’s Alright
02. Don’t You Cry
03. Music
04. Better Man
05. Route 23
06. My God
07. Lollipop
08. Not For Sale
09. Dance
10. Jealousy
11. War
12. Strut
13. Goree
14. Light

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