Hate Mail! Chickenfoot review has loyal reader taking aim, action

Sean:

I have got to tell you: Your review today finally proved to me while I will be canceling my subscription after 27 years.

I am 55 years old, a successful businessman, who doesn't have a lot of time to listen to music on the radio or Internet. So it was of great interest to me when I opened the paper this morning and saw an almost half-page review of "Chickenfoot" whom I have not heard yet.

You are a music reviewer, right? So where is the review? How many songs? What type of tempos? No, you spend almost the entire article hammering the musicians. "It's hard to hate on a merry band of millionaires jamming just for the fun of it"? What has that got to do with the music? Anyways, good luck to you, Sean. I actually feel sorry for you to be under so much pressure from the paper to be negative.
 
Sammy and Mike snap: Associated Press

Fowl Play: Best of the Bird Bands!

With supergroup Chickenfoot squawking up a storm, our hungry minds developed a taste for other poultry-inspired bands. Here’s our controversial cluckdown, from Chicks to Eagles...to Wings.

10) The Partridge Family I think I love you, Shirley Jones.

9) The Ravyns Charm City rockers “raised on the radio.”

8) A Flock of Seagulls Definitive band — and ’do — of the ’80s.

7) The Black Crowes Robinson bros think they should be higher.

6) The Yardbirds Clapton, Beck and Page — ’nuff said.

5) Dixie Chicks Liked ’em better killing Earl than drilling Bush.

4) Counting Crows Definitive band — and dreads — of the ’90s.

3) The Byrds Jingle-jangle Dylan thieves still sound great.

2) The Eagles Definitive band — and Don Henley gigantic ’fro — of the ’70s.

1) Wings Paul’s post-Beatles bird calling is criminally underrated. “Well, the rain exploded with a mighty crash as we fell into the sun.” Total bliss.

Others that just miss the cut: The Orioles, Eagles of Death Metal, the Jawhawks, the O'Jays, the Housemartins 

Chickenfoot's Sammy Hagar, Michael Anthony, Chad Smith, Joe Satriani raise summer ruckus

Last week, a spunky lil’ band with a clunky lil’ name raised a ruckus by topping Billboard’s Indie Albums chart. Perhaps you’ve heard of Chickenfoot? If not, maybe you’ve heard of its members: Van Halen howler Sammy Hagar and bassist Michael Anthony, Red Hot Chili Peppers drummer Chad Smith and guitar-geek god Joe Satriani.

Okay, not your typical up-and-coming indie crew. But the supergroup formed at a 2008 Hagar show, started messing with new tunes and signed with Nashville’s humble Redline label. Sales have been crazy good so far, and why not? Besides being skilled at their job — especially Smith, who plays drums like Kong swats planes — each player has a huge following.

But are they any good? Well, that depends on how many Cabo Wabo tequila shots you’ve done. At its best, Chickenfoot ultimately sounds like post-Diamond Dave VH, aka Van Hagar, with its polished thunder, harmonizing from Anthony and sexual innuendo with zero room for interpretation. (Hmm, what are they trying to say on Sexy Little Thing and  Get It Up?)

In between the nookie numbers, they sneak in message music, tackling Latin American violence and border wars on Avenida Revolucion, national woes on Runnin’ Out and, uh, sadness on Learning to Fall. Hagar and Satriani co-wrote most of the cuts, and while they’re tasty in a 7-Eleven Big Bite sort of way, the lyrics are faux-deep and silly (“Runnin’ out of money / Runnin’ out of dreams / Runnin’ out of sex / We’re runnin’ out of future / Runnin’ out of past...” And so on and on.)

My biggest problem with Chickenfoot is Joey Satch, the guitar virtuoso. The man can fly, and pick, and stick a lick for sure. But there’s no soul, no joy in his playing. Eddie Van Halen was a showoff, too, but there was a liquid glee in his tapping. Satriani’s solos, while technically mind-blowing, just don’t engage.

Still, it’s hard to hate on a merry band of millionaires who are playing just for the fun of it. Hagar’s comments that Chickenfoot is better than Led Zeppelin lets you know that the Red Rocker is feeling this (if totally nuts). The album crunches and rumbles and catches, and I thumped the steering wheel more than once. It’s summer, the beach is packed and the radio is loud. Who’s up for another shot?