Fingerprints Music

Reviews:

Black Rebel Motorcycle Club are all attitude. You might even say it's a bad attitude. Unfortunately, to misquote Run D.M.C., it's often not bad meaning good but bad meaning bad. You know-unconvincing, stale, one-dimensional. "We don't know when to stop," our antiheroes snarl wanly, saying more than they probably realize. "Ain't you had enough?" they demand later. Wait, do you really want to know?

Now there's nothing wrong with style trumping substance. A certain element of posturing motivates a lot of the best rock and roll, and on their eponymous debut BRMC made an enjoyable mess from the feedback, fuzzy tones, and reverb they copped from the Jesus and Mary Chain. But cartoons should draw big laffs, or at least defy gravity, and the seriousness of the Club's posturing wears thin here. They lack a commanding frontman, and only when they choose a worthy target for their vitriol-that means "U.S. Government"-does it sound like they're putting their hearts (and genitals) into their swagger.

In fact, like all tough guys, BRMC are softies at heart, and though they probably don't want anyone to know, they're in love. Not with a girl, but with a sound. Only when the band risks full immersion in those recycled sonic elements, as on "Shade of Blue," do they transcend-or at least bypass-the clichey court. I hope they admit it next time around, ditch the hardass shtick and take the plunge.