I am an admitted wide-eyed stooge for rock ‘supergroups.’ From the classics of Cream and Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young to the more modern age Mad Season and Velvet Revolver; my naivety gets the best of me every time. There is something enticing with the social experiment of combining the multitude of imposing egos in one room. Vicariously, we watch for the almost inevitable implosion. When told the tale of Them Crooked Vultures, it’s damn near refreshing. Not a concoction in some corporate label laboratory to regurgitate record sales, TCV has humble beginnings of three (very successful) musicians just looking for the next jam between friends. Josh Homme (Queens of the Stone Age), Dave Grohl (Nirvana, Foo Fighters) and John Paul Jones (Led Zeppelin) believes this modesty is the missing ingredient of longevity. Witnessing the clinic that Them Crooked Vultures displayed at Old National Centre (Murat) in downtown Indianapolis, I sincerely hope they are right.
Fans were already lined up at 6 PM being cascaded with random sprinkles on an overall dreary night in Indianapolis. Nobody seemed bothered in the least as excitement was obvious. Even the Emo kid with his hair flopped over his face and a shirt that read