pete.

David Terrana, lead singer of Newark, N.J., hard-rock band pete. (that’s lowercase “p,” with a period on the end), has that de rigueur testosterone-drenched Vedderesque yarl, an essential component of today’s au courant rock recording, nailed down. This might make for a big ho-hum of a compact disc but for Rich Andruska’s Sabbatical riffing on the electric guitar, which, tonally, resembles the Continental dish escargot, if those hapless slugs were animated by the fumes from granny’s laundry room crank lab, at least enough to kick up a hearty Jackie Chan schottische. Bravo there, dudes. Tunewise, the self-titled disc has that pensive, Starbucks-goatee-scratching quality so prevalent on commercial nose-ring rock radio. Not that this platter smokes massive pole, because it does not; it’s actually a decent example of state-of-the-art big-bidness rawk. (pete. plays The Roadhouse this Sunday, September 16.)