No one would have been too shocked or outraged if the surviving members of the band went on to do something else with their careers, just like they did in 1997 when they recruited Dave Coutts and released an album under the moniker Talk Show. The thing is, that album sold poorly (during the big CD boom, no less); besides, after Weiland's departure in 2013, there were lawsuits over who held the right to use the Stone Temple Pilots name, a lawsuit that was settled out of court in favour of the remaining three members. Which brings us to 2018, with Stone Temple Pilots on their third singer and looking to make yet another new beginning.
Jeff Gutt, a former X-Factor contestant, positions himself as a reasonable facsimile of Weiland (albeit presumably without the substance abuse); most of Weiland's notes are within his range, and his blonde-dyed hair recalls Weiland's classic STP look. He's not Weiland, though, neither the effortlessly melodic singer nor the damaged poet; he's a good singer singing generic lyrics over what amounts to generic rock music.
If there were any hopes that this record would be an attempt to hearken back to the days of Core and Purple, let it be known going in that there are no such attempts here. Instead, we get a platter of rock radio hopefuls that alternate between mildly interesting and mildly forgettable; the watered-down, bluesier side of the classic rock spectrum that helped turn 2010's self-titled effort into less of an anticipated return and more of a reminder that they weren't really as badly missed as we might have thought is back again here, alongside a handful of unremarkable ballads and a few amped up hard rock songs that try to rekindle some of the band's former fire but fall well short of their platinum days and wind up in the dirt under the heel of, say, Shinedown.
That's not to say this is a horrible abomination of an album, as most tracks are at least pleasant enough to not have listeners scrambling for the skip button; Meadow, for instance, might be on the generic side, but at least it's got a strong melody. Thought She'd Be Mine is the best of the ballads by a country mile, and Finest Hour, as ultimately schlocky as it is, is at least an attempt at a loving tribute (although whether it's directed at Weiland, Bennington or both is hard to parse; that said, the liner notes don't dedicate much ink to either, choosing "in loving memory of" and "we miss you" as the only sentiments to speak of, ensuring even their dedication to two deceased modern vocal legends is generic).
It's somewhat fitting that Stone Temple Pilots' seventh album is being distributed by Rhino, the label renowned for repackaging hits and selling nostalgia; they handled the deluxe 25th anniversary reissue of Core last year and, now that I think about it, there's a lot more in common between that reissue and the new album than I realized. They're both pretty clear attempts at cashing in on nostalgia, they're both reminders (inadvertent as it may be in the case of STP 2018) of how powerful this band used to be, and they're both not offering much new material of substance to anyone beyond the heartiest of hardcore fans.
March 16, 2018 • Play Pen/Rhino
Highlights Meadow • Thought She'd Be Mine • Roll Me Under
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