When proto-metal act
Queensrÿche fired vocalist and chief songwriter
Geoff Tate, fans were justifiably shocked.
Tate has his side of the story and the rest of the bandmembers have theirs. It is he, however, who is first out of the gate with
Kings & Thieves. Included in his lineup is guitarist
Kelly Gray, who played in
Tate's first band, Myth, and later with
Queensrÿche after founding guitarist
Chris DeGarmo left the band.
Tate produced this set, while
Gray recorded and mixed it.
Kings & Thieves --
Tate's second solo album -- feels rushed, its arrangements and production steeped in clichés mostly from the late '80s and 1990s. Its songs feel at best unfinished, and at worst downright embarrassing. How many fans really want to hear
Tate, of all people, singing about the various ways in which he wants to get laid? As distasteful an assertion as that is, "Say U Luv It" and "In the Dirt," with tired guitar vamps and a boring drum shuffle (which appears throughout this album as if it's a compositional device) are exactly that. Worse is set closer "Waiting," a cheesy over-produced acoustic/electric number that is, in actuality, a stalker's anthem. Less offensive but just as clueless is "The Way I Roll," which commences with
Tate's saxophone bleating out of key (unintentionally) amid the washed-out keyboard backdrop. When the guitars and drums kick in, an enormous
Deep Purple-esque organ roars over the top. Then
Tate does a half-sung/half-"rapped" boast, amid guitar and drum sounds that come right out of the 1990s. (Can anyone say
Kid Rock?) The compressed, faux hip-hop drum shuffle on "These Glory Days" is a shame because the guitar riff and vocals actually work. The news isn't all bad, however; "Dark Money" has an interesting guitar vamp that offers a hard rock backdrop to
Tate's assertive and convincing vocals, and "Change," a power ballad, has a compelling string chart that adds a lush texture underneath
Tate's singing and then gives way to some screaming guitar work as the intensity gets upped. But these are the only two songs on
Kings & Thieves that remotely succeed. The rest is a deeply disappointing exercise in delusions of grandeur. As evidenced here, it appears that
Queensrÿche reined in the worst of
Tate's excesses both musical and lyrical.