From Trapeze to Deep Purple to Black Sabbath, Glenn Hughes has carved out an incredibly unique musical journey for himself. The Staffordshire-born rocker’s eclectic, ultra-modern vocal styling continues to shine on in his performances – owing nothing to age – and First Underground Nuclear Kitchen is no different. Slipping between funk and hard rock with incredible ease, Hughes’ newest album is a rock n’ roll dedication to the smooth fidelity of the Motown Sound. Even in the face of gristly, Ozzy-reminiscent guitars, Nuclear Kitchen maintains a soothing aura more akin to Stevie Wonder than 1960’s psychedelica.
Hughes’ impact has been documented in everything from the Black Crowes to Lenny Kravitz and even the early 90’s Seattle-based grunge movement. One could hardly blame Hughes for trying to buck his age and attempt to cash in on such influence, emulating the newest “flavor of the month” in an effort to keep relevant. Thankfully, that doesn’t happen on Nuclear Kitchen. Instead, Hughes plows unabashedly backwards, fitting juiced-up guitars with a level of funk befitting vinyl. Speckled all about the loose fretwork are fat walls of horns and organs, demonstrating an understanding of R&B alien to most rockstars.
By the time the brass kicks in on the title track, listeners will already have had an impressive demonstration of Hughes’ continued proclivity for funk. The horns pound along with the wah-wah to forge a hypnotic groove, the rattling basswork sounding like the best cuts of some forgotten Presidents album. Whether fast (“We Go to War”) or slow (“Satellite”), the chilled-out polish is confident and pristine, Hughes’ versatile voice guiding the accompaniment along with ease. His effortless vocal strength is the real star of Nuclear Kitchen, evoking a kind of rough-around-the-edges soulfulness that seemed to always escape Perry Farrell’s imitation.
The album’s finest outing – entitled “Imperfection,” ironically – finds all instruments (including Hughes) reaching the same silky nirvana, absent any distracting bravado. It’s here that listeners will realize that Nuclear Kitchen is an unapologetic ode to the inherit “coolness” of rock, the decades-old swagger of an iron fist in a velvet glove. It’s a notion that’s been lost amid a dozen new iterations – thrash-rock and nu-rock and any other like-monikered genres – but Hughes keeps waving it casually (and obstinately) aloft.
Nuclear Kitchen still has its share of issues: if one’s strength is subtlety, it pays to stick to it. When Hughes strays (“Never Say Never,” “We Shall Be Free”), that inviting retro luster gets knocked off course, and suddenly everything sounds like a Kravitz B-side. The funk is still there, to be sure, but it takes on the air of an amateur wannabe (anyone remember Jesse Camp?)
Fortunately, Hughes is a master, and his sure hand keeps most of the tracks in line. In Nuclear Kitchen he’s produced a confident and laudable dedication to that slippery hybrid of funk-rock – a surprisingly smooth outing, considering his resume. Youngsters should sit up and listen.
Kevin Liedel, MuzikReviews.com Contributor
September 20, 2008
