This came out in 2004 – or at least that’s when I got it. Here’s what I said about it back then (with some minor editing):
Most supergroups have to worry about living up to their individual pasts. Velvet Revolver may be the first whose members also need to worry about living theirs down.
In this corner you’ve got the notorious Scott Weiland, the former Stone Temple Pilots singer who’s spent more time lately in court and rehab than onstage or in the studio. In that corner you’ve got guitarist Slash, bassist Duff McKagan and drummer Matt Sorum from hedonistic headbangers Guns N’ Roses — not exactly poster children for abstinence of any sort. Combine them and you’ve got a band that continually exists one parole violation away from implosion.
That this motley crew were able to make it through one rehearsal is impressive. That they were able to produce an entire album is a colossal achievement. And that it actually rocks as thoroughly, coherently and consistently as it does is nothing short of miraculous. Contraband is nothing short of a two-fisted, barnstorming throwback to the halcyon days of ’80s metal and ’90s grunge — the days of leather pants, chunky power chords, skull rings, wah-wah solos, walloping beats and enough sleaze for the Sunset Strip on Saturday night.
Weiland and the boys bust out of the gate and hit the ground running with the chugging grooves, serrated riffs and sinister ennui of Sucker Train Blues and Do It For The Kids. And from there, they never look back, blasting through nearly an hour of twisted anthems fuelled by Slash’s powerhouse guitars and Weiland’s jaded junkie-nightmare lyrics (“Brain and body melting while there’s roaches multiplying”).
But while their styles may mesh fairly seamlessly, you can’t call Contraband a true meeting of the minds. Between Weiland’s bellowing whine and the blocky, neck-climbing riffs, cuts like Big Machine, Spectacle, Headspace and the single Slither are closer to the creepy grunge of STP than the party-hearty glam-metal of GN’R. I wouldn’t call the disc perfect either — for all his strengths, Weiland’s choruses aren’t always quite as big or hooky as they need to be. And ultimately, of course, there’s no denying that this is more of an exercise in warmed-over nostalgia than a musical step forward.
Still, for a bunch of guys who recently seemed well past their best-before dates, Contraband is one helluva step in the right direction. Looks like they might live up to their pasts yet. And if they can stay out of jail long enough to make a second album, maybe they’ll live them down too.
