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Black Rebel Motorcycle Club (BRMC): Howl
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7.5/10 |
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With their eponymous debut, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club created an addictive, buzzing, hard-rocking soundscape. Shoegazer supercharged with classic rock. Four years on it’s still a pleasure to crank out for parties and stoned Sunday mornings alike. The 2003 follow-up, ‘Take Them On, On Your Own’, suffered from a textbook example of the sophomore slump. Largely forgettable, the songs hinted at the genius of BRMC’s debut without ever really attaining it. Like the much-maligned Vines and Strokes follow-ups, there was no discernible evolution in the band’s sound and the superior production worked to their detriment, deconstructing some of the debut’s mystery. Another two years down the track and we have ‘Howl’.
Picking up Howl in the CD store, you could be forgiven for thinking this was another standard BRMC release. As with both previous LP’s, the packaging is – take a wild guess – black. Peter Hayes, Robert Levon Been and Nick Jago stand around in a series of moody photos wearing – take another guess – black. But take a closer look at the track listing and something weird happens. As an indie kid, I’m guessing you normally run in the opposite direction when you see song titles like ‘Devil’s Waitin’’; ‘Restless Sinner’; and ‘Gospel Song’. But that’s what BRMC have given us this time around. They’re still wearing black, but this time the nod goes not to classic rock but to Johnny Cash.
How does a distortion-fuelled Cali rock band take on gothic Southern country? Like all converts, BRMC have jumped into their new calling with naïve enthusiasm. Their intent is clear from the outset: ‘Shuffle Your Feet’ begins with a soulful a capella cry before pumping into an upbeat, acoustic guitar and handclap driven campfire ditty. It’s a hellava lotta fun gosh darnit – the kind of song that’ll have you playing air accordion and line dancing in no time. The next track, ‘Howl’, slows things down a whole lot. This one sounds more like classic BRMC, reinterpreted with keys imitating a wailing organ. It builds on overdriven bass to a wave-your-lighter-from-side-to-side vocal coda.
As with the title track, Howl is at its best when the Black Rebel watermark remains distinctive. Unfortunately, the trio don’t always manage this. ‘Devil’s Waitin’’ blindsides the listener at track 3 with nothing but acoustic guitar and Been’s attempt at a mournful Southern wail. Lyrics about Jesus and prison don’t ring true. Once you get to the chorus ‘I’ve seen the battle and I’ve seen the war’, you simply don’t believe him.
It’s a shame that this song follows the excellent opening combo, but this sets the tone for Howl. As soon as BRMC make you feel  like getting up, dancing a jig and chugging a bottle of moonshine – as when you hear ‘Ain’t No Easy Way’ - they’ll immediately bust out the acoustic and accordion to slow things down. Mostly it’s successful, as with the pretty, gothic, ‘Fault Line’. Sometimes, it’s Coldplay-boring: see the soporific ‘Promise’.
Props to BRMC for refusing to rest on their laurels and taking on the challenge of a total departure from their previous outings. Give this album a chance. Beneath the accordion and the crooning, most of the songs bear that distinctive Black Rebel flavour. Welcome to flavour country.
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