There's a school of psychological thought that says that the reason the electric guitar is so popular is because it's the great American phallic symbol-- a substitute love-pump that overpaid rock stars can stroke onstage without going to jail. These clammy-palmed bookworms say the source of the music world's fascination with guitar rock is that we, in some roundabout way, get a deep voyeuristic charge out of watching Keith Richards and company "handle their business." I don't buy it all, but as sick as it sounds, that's the thought that kept knocking around my brain-pan as I listened to the Hellacopters' guitar-fueled Grande Rock. And trust me, when an album forces you to contemplate the dark, cold notion of a member of the Rolling Stones yankin' the chain, something is terribly, terribly wrong.
Sporting a sound that's one part Yardbirds, one part Allman Brothers, and a tiny, tiny part Clash, the Hellacopters create music that would sound at home on a late night TV "Freedom Rock" compilation. As such, Grande Rock is one long, Cro-Magnonly stupid guitar solo. As ridiculously crude and full of chest-beating bravado as its name implies, Grande Rock is guitar rock at its most brash, cocky and ballsy. Sadly, though, all of the ass-backward qualities that killed guitar rock show up here, too, as track after mediocre track becomes more of a single long, amazing bland piece of music than an actual collection of songs. The tracks themselves offer the kind of moronic predictability I'd hoped indie rock had left far behind.
Stylistically, these guys are in the black, as most of these kinds of bands are. Rock-solid guitar work backed up by nimble keyboard playing, powerful drum work and banshee-like vocals are what save this album from being just another of Sub Pop's roster of forgettable "big rock" bands. See, the Hellacopters are decent enough for what they are-- there's no frontin' that these guys are technically accomplished musicians. This type of instrumental mastery-- not just over the guitars mind you, but over the entire band setup-- is something these guys should be proud of. Actual musical talent is sadly lacking in most of today's lazy-ass indie rock scene, but the Hellacopters play the real deal.
Unfortunately, hot licks do not a good album make. Even if you can get past the nonexistent lyrics, the repetitive song structures and the general lack of creativity, there's a staggering lack of depth to Grande Rock that no power chord can cover up. Listening to this album for anything other than the guilty pleasure of listening to a man tear up his guitar string by string is like watching porno films to score acting tips.
