Post-Millennial Rock gets a makeover: Black Rebel

Around the turn of the century, a subtle change overtook mainstream rock music: it stopped sucking. Well, at least some of it did. The backward-looking work of such bands as Interpol and The Hives helped to reinvigorate a genre that had become as bland and tasteless as the sonic oatmeal that flooded the airwaves with cheap imitations of Pearl Jam, Alice in Chains, Faith No More, and Dave Matthews. Thanks to the success of formerly little-known bands, such as Modest Mouse, Death Cab for Cutie, and The Shins; the openness of the internet; and the music editors of shows like The O.C. and Scrubs, more Americans have been exposed to a quality of music unheard of since the early nineties.

This year, several of the bands who benefited from this trend released career-shifting albums. The New Pornographers traded in the amped-up sticky pop of their first two releases for a more mature brand of song writing. The White Stripes traded their clunky garage rock and blues for a more polished and varied sound. Stripped of their meaty noise, the Raveonettes became a time machine for late 50s pop and surf rock.

With the release of Howl, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club join their peers in reaching for a new sound. Where thick riffs and steady beats reminiscent of the Jesus and Mary Chain and Swervedriver were once the standard for the darkly-clad trio, we find acoustic guitars and stripped-down soul rock. The San Francisco trio's first two album (the first self-titled, the second named Take Them On, On Your Own) were the perfect soundtrack for a late-night highway cruise. The new release would be a more fitting backdrop for a slow train carrying a pine box.

Listening to Howl, one could easily imagine that the last 50 years of Rock and Roll never happened. The influences here never even heard an electric guitar, as BRMC channel Skip James and old Southern spirituals. At least three songs make overt use of religious language. For example, "Devil's Waitin'" floats melancholily with acoustic picking and the chanting of "We pray our Lord's gonna meet us there." "Ain't No Easy Way" stomps as rhythmically as any good Delta Blues and is completed by a crunchy slide guitar.

BRMC's signature sound is not completely missing here; the vocals are still eerie and static-laced. "Still Suspicion Holds You Tight" could easily fit on either of their albums if the atmospheric stings and jangley guitars were replaced by roaring amps. "Weight of the World" sounds like Coldplay covering something from BRMC's back catalogue. The opening track, "Shuffle Your Feet," indicates a Queen-inspired number, but quickly turns into a hand-clapping sing-a-long. "Shuffle Your Feet" also provides the album's only miscalculation. The acapella intro sounds out of place as the song's chorus.

In addition to the growth in their song writing, Howl finds Black Rebel utilizing an impressive variety of instruments, including harmonica, piano, and horns, which turn "Promise" into the band's first nod to the Beatles. Whether you like the music or not, Howl at least proves how rockers who are aware of their history, including folk songs and early Rock and Roll, carry much more potential than anyone stuck in the last decade or so. Veteran BRMC fans will find a lot to like here as the band flexes their sonic muscles more than ever. At its best Howl has the potential to make everyone realize that Black Rebel Motorcycle Club is one of the most talented groups of musicians around.