It’s no grand revelation that an established band changing singers is a daunting task. For every Bon-to-Brian smooth transition, there’s a Dave-to-Sammy changeover that alienates fans, or worse, a Sammy-to-Gary trainwreck that alienates everyone. A band’s singer is its literal voice, its figurative front, and mucking about with that sound and image can be dangerous business.
But as Brian Johnson and Bruce Dickinson can attest, it can work.
Time will tell if we can truly add Todd LaTorre to that list, but as this one disc shows, his arrival was certainly a positive step. By all accounts, a year or so ago, Queensryche was done for, a laughingstock, a disgrace to their own umlauted name. Their days of prog-metal mastery were decades behind them, their classics old enough to deserve that term in a whole different sense. For reasons known only to them (or perhaps only to Geoff Tate), they continued releasing increasingly unlistenable attempts at modern rock, each more awful than the one before. Even a fan as staunch as me had to move on – I gave up really caring somewhere around Tribe, when it was evident that even Chris DeGarmo’s return couldn’t stop the nosedive, and I only continued acquiring new ‘Ryche efforts because I had business connections to their label and could get them for free.
And then came the implosion. Tate was fired after thirty years, ten of them relevant and brilliant, twenty meandering. The press bandied about “he-said, they-said” stories for months, with the three remaining members laundry-listing Tate’s various offenses and Tate maintaining that it was he and he alone who’d kept Queensryche afloat. All the arguing was intended to show which party was responsible for all the band’s success, but considering that two-thirds of the band’s lifetime was anything but successful, the arguments more effectively showed who should be blamed for the fall. And that argument ultimately wasn’t resolved by any press release, but rather by Tate himself, who released the next step in Queensryche’s decline under his own name late last year.
While Tate busied himself drifting and bombing in much the same bland-rock fashion as Dedicated To Chaos had the year previous, the remaining ‘Rychers effectively formed a tribute band to themselves. This self-homage was dubbed Rising West, and it’s sole purpose was to play songs from the first five Queensryche albums (read: the five great Queensryche albums), songs that the Tate-fronted ‘Ryche studiously avoided. From Floridian proggers Crimson Glory, Rising West recruited Todd LaTorre, who does Tate’s dramatic and operatic vocals as well as the man himself, and with LaTorre’s spot-on voice and the obvious slew of great material, the tribute shows were a success. It turns out that there were plenty of Queensryche fans that wanted their band back, wanted Queensryche to stop sucking and just sound like Queensryche again. Who knew…?
So here we are, a year or so later, with the Rising West name ditched and an ongoing legal battle over rights for the Queensryche brand. Thanks to that, we’ve got two Queensryches, one featuring LaTorre and the band and then a second one with Tate and a who’s-who of yesterday’s hard rock stars (Rudy Sarzo of Quiet Riot and Ozzy on bass, Simon Wright of AC/DC and Dio replacing Bobby Blotzer of Ratt on drums). TateRyche released Frequency Unknown earlier this year (“FU,” get it?), beating his bandmates to the punch, but there’s something to be said for slow and steady.
Because this opening salvo from LaTorRyche thoroughly trounces that disc.
So yes, after all that, Queensryche is a fine album, a strong effort, albeit not as muscular or metallic a one as I’d have truly liked to see. Stylistically, it plays it safe by playing to the Queensryche most people know best – this is not a return to The Warning, and those fans that jumped ship post-Mindcrime won’t find this one any more appealing than Empire or Promised Land. Queensryche fits somewhere between those two, with the anthemic choruses of the hugely successful former and the tribal drumming and modern edge to the riffing of the latter. LaTorre is more than a capable replacement for Tate – he soars in the right places; he brings that same sense of drama in the midrange that Geoff exhibited to such great effect. At times, Todd’s a dead ringer for Tate, almost too much so, but the fact that he can fill the shoes of a very distinctive and talented singer is impressive.
Most importantly, the new blood seems to have reinvigorated the band – this is the most ‘Ryche-like that Queensryche has sounded in ages, the most vital, the most involved. Tracks like “Where Dreams Go To Die,” “Fallout,” and “Redemption” are simply better than almost anything and everything that Queensryche has released since 1996. (Perhaps tellingly, the song titles read like a break-up note: “Where Dreams Go To Die,” “Redemption,” “Vindication,” “Don’t Look Back,” “Fallout.”) There’s nothing on hand that’s an immediate master-stroke – no “I Don’t Believe In Love” or “Take Hold Of The Flame” or even “Empire” – but these are solidly constructed Prog metal songs, filled with hooky and soaring melodies. Queensryche’s greatest (and really only) misfire is that the riffs could certainly be more memorable – most of these are simple, just components of a greater whole and not intended to be a focus, which is all well and good, but a few big hooky riffs would’ve gone a long way towards establishing Queensryche in more metallic territory.
There was a time when I’d have told you that Geoff Tate was irreplaceable, but it doesn’t appear that’s quite so true. Queensryche has re-energized by regression, found a voice suitable for their legacy and found a way back towards themselves. Queensryche is a return to the tail end of the band’s commercial heyday, which was a few years past its creative one, and it’s a welcome return to better days either way. Still, further steps back to their roots could and should be taken, so here’s hoping for an even heavier follow-up. By moving backwards, Queensryche marks the first forward momentum in the ‘Ryche camp in fifteen years or more. Well done, gents – it’s good to have you back; it’s been too long.
