I'm not going to lie to you, kids, and I want you to know that. I care about you. (Well, most of you.) So I'll be honest. Rock isn't always pretty, but sometimes that's just the way it's gotta be. Believe me, then, when I say that Rye Coalition's new album, On Top, is downright ugly, but rocks like it's about to go out of style. So all of you who just want another pretty face can stick to the safety of The Strokes and Weezer. In the meantime, Rye Coalition is gonna be busy defining arena-ready indie rock without any pretty-boy theatrics, so get out of the way or be crushed underfoot.
On Top is so relentlessly energetic that from the moment Rye Coalition begins to stomp and bruise their way through the album, no one stands a chance. Once they get moving, all you can do is be dragged through the mud behind them. By the time the album ends, you're filthy, the wind has been knocked out of you and your organs hurt from the impact, but, like Loverboy, you've loved every minute of it. The only 'break' to be found is on the bluesy "Freshly Frankness," which wouldn't exactly sound out of place on White Blood Cells-- if, uh, Jack White took steroids.
But before I forget, the lyrics suck big time. If they're tongue-in-cheek, Ralph Cuseglio's delivery is too straight-faced to let on. Don't worry too much, though, since lyrics only matter if you can understand them-- which in this case you can't. (Just don't open the liners and you'll be fine.) Cuseglio spits and froths his way through every song with such manic adrenaline that he must be hooked to some kind of goddamn rock and roll I.V. And for their part, the rest of the band matches him, with jagged guitar lines dominating and kicking like a gas-powered mule (you heard me). On the rare occasions when Justin Morrey's bass is able to bust through the mix, I can hear Shellac-- and I probably don't need to tell you, but that's a good thing.
Now, this is a pretty straightforward album, so the possibilities do exhaust themselves somewhat by the end; there's only so much that can be done with this sort of visceral, no-frills rock. But just as doubts regarding this album's staying power creep in, the showpiece closer, "Honky, Please," shatters them Conan-style. The track is immediately set apart by the awkward opening sounds of seagulls and a garbage truck in reverse gear, before it launches into a menacing guitar riff. The instrumentation builds, collapses under its own weight, then resurges with such a massively gut-wrenching crescendo that nothing can follow it. So nothing does.
Rye Coalition may not be what anyone had in mind when rock and roll was developed, but that's only because they weren't thinking hard enough. Did I mention the record was engineered by Steve Albini? If you don't take my word for it, at least trust Steve not to steer you wrong. Steve says, "On Top is a juggernaut of an album." Believe it, kids.
