2005, RCA
Grade: B
These guys sure are persistent. Among 2001’s slew of hyped hipsters—The Strokes and White Stripes among them—Black Rebel Motorcycle Club prove their serious intentions with focusing more on releasing albums than anything else. Twice since their eponymous debut, BRMC has stepped to the plate, and this time with Howl.
They’re an American band—of that much, we’ve been told—but serious anglophiles for sure. B.R.M.C. took its leas straight from the halls of early-90’s Creation Records: all Shoegaze cool, and swirling guitars. Howl coats itself in archetypal American music accustomed more to the British than any Americans. It’s a detached, third person rendering of Folk and Blues, full of upbeat, gut-wrenching twang and loneliness. Best exemplified by Elvis Costello’s King of America and every odd Supergrass album. Bruce Springsteen may be one of the few Americans to have managed this. Nebraska harnessed the listener’s associations with Jack Kerouac and Bob Dylan to ground updated tales of isolation. BRMC’s “Devil’s Waitin’” takes it lead from the Boss in that way—though, given the album’s title, they may want you to think Ginsberg before Kerouac. It’s a lovely track—as is the bulk of Howl—and strongly amounts to something more than derivative.
Three years ago BRMC were little more than a fancy light show and a good record collection; Howl shows a little soul, ambition, and foot-stomping unity. Only the finest, and it’s rare, develop a sound truly their own. But whichever way you cut it, BRMC sounds good.
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