Being a metal singer is physically demanding, and even the most seemingly triumphant of them know you can’t slay age. Rob Halford knows it, James Hetfield knows it—does Glenn Danzig know it? His “metal Elvis” voice isn’t what it used to be, and he is his voice. It hasn’t kept him away from touring—the Misfits reunion finally happened last year, after all—but his performances have suffered live and in the studio. He’s not known for being self-aware (except for when dealing with photographers at shows), and an eccentric like him can’t be too self-aware. That doesn’t excuse his sloppy wreck of a covers album, 2015’s Skeletons, or the fact that he put footage of one of his teeth falling off into his “’68 Comeback Special” homage “Legacy.” But perhaps he has found a critical voice within. Black Laden Crown is Danzig’s strongest album in some time, because he’s mostly built it around his own limitations.
Many of the song here are on the slower end of the metal-blues he pioneered with his first three records, and his aged croon needs that slack. “Last Ride” feels like it could have come from the in-the-round jams on the “Danzig Legacy” television special—it’s primitive and laid-back, his lack of self-awareness working in his favor at last. He doesn’t overextend himself, gliding over the swampy buzzes of “The Witching Hour” and the pounding chugs in “Skulls & Daisies.” Like the more extreme bands he’s taken on the road over the past decade, his vocals are becoming more textural and less the main focus. That actually works, as Crown has his smartest writing in years, keeping his youthful demons alive, if not running amok. He may have matured, but we don’t want to him to grow up.
While Crown exists to show that there’s optimism about Danzig, “Devil On Hwy 9” is an argument to be cynical (and it wasn’t the wisest choice as the album’s lead single). Vocals notwithstanding, it lands among his most charging songs, like “Dirty Black Summer” and “Am I Demon.” He wants to capture the biker spirit he’s singing about, but when he tries to rage, he’s just hoarse. There’s none of the warmth fused with menace that he once singularly commanded. He should heed “Eyes Ripping Fire” as a better model for what he can do in a more rocking mode, as its sludgier pace meshes better with his moan. Even if “Devil” is the only real misstep on this record, it confirms the worst fear about him: he just isn’t built for the more driving songs anymore.
Guitarist Tommy Victor deserves a lot of credit for Crown’s successes. The mechanical playing style that suited him in Prong was initially a mismatch for Danzig’s heavy blues, and 2004’s Circle of Snakes tried to graft both styles to no avail. 2010’s Deth Red Sabaoth made headway into restoring the classic Danzig sound, and while it would be presumptuous to say he’s transformed into O.G. Danzig guitarist John Christ, this record is the closest Victor has sounded to him. Repressing your own style to ape your most beloved predecessor would seem like a disaster, but Victor has loosened up, scaling back on the pinch harmonics and embracing fluidity. The title track also shows how Victor takes the pressure off of Danzig to go grand, furiously soloing where the singer would once howl into abandon.
Danzig III: How the Gods Kill will turn 25 in July, and Danzig is well aware; he says he’ll play more material from that record in his upcoming live shows. On Gods, he found a tenderness in his dark craft, focusing on slower songs—which is also what works with Crown. The anniversary might overshadow this new album, and that may have been a welcome distraction in the past—but Danzig is, for once, on the right path here. His thunder has quelled, but his ear is sharpening again. And it’s that ear that made some of the most approachable yet enduring metal of the late ’80s and early ’90s.
Musician Success 