Black Rebel Motorcycle Club
It’s an awful name for a band—so contrived, trying to reach for that authentic bad-boy feel. Ugh, do they think we don’t know it’s bad? The photos of B.R.M.C. make the band look like one of those combos that usually come from L.A. or San Francisco, with pretentious music to match. And this album is on a major label. Given all of the garbage on the radio, it’s hard to trust the majors these days. But here’s the smack upside the face: This record is good. It’s big, like you’d expect, but in the right way. The songs are gritty and the production sounds as though everything’s running in the red. The drums loom large, the guitars are crunching, the bass is distorted and the vocals cut up nicely. The songs aren’t generic and range from slower and moody to outright rock. While B.R.M.C. isn’t the next Oasis or anything, it’s on the right track and gives hope for the future of major-label rock bands.