The Coup's Boots Riley and Rage Against the Machine's Tom Morello seem more likely to meet on a political talk show than on record, but the pairing has a precedent: Morello added his hiccuping, dying-engine electric guitar sounds to "Captain Sterling's Little Problem", from the Coup's 2006 album, Pick a Bigger Weapon, and his distinctive, but unobtrusive contribution somehow worked (even if Boots Riley's affected accent on the same track didn't). Here, on Street Sweeper Social Club's self-titled debut, the ball's shifted more into Morello's court, with funky, though fairly minimal rap-rock. Granted, this album falls into a formula that's instantly recognizable the moment you hear it, for which Morello deserves credit; but with Street Sweeper Social Club, Morello is part of a backing band (and, in pulling double-duty on bass for the record, is most of the backing band), ready for an assertive, engaging personality to take them to the next level.
Enter Boots Riley. On paper, he should be perfect for this: Over his long career as a rapper, there's always been a relatable everyman attitude and a warm generosity behind every political platitude. He might be the world's most lovable self-proclaimed communist. But the man is not himself on this record. "The Oath" begins with a surprisingly mellow, bluesy intro where Boots shows off his eye for detail (a broken TV bolted to the wall, a lacquered and carved-up tabletop), but it just leads to more staccato blues riffing and vague fight lyrics with a dog of a chorus. Too often, these songs have direct counterparts to old Coup songs that leave them in the dust. He's singing, "Fight, Smash, Win," as three easy steps to resolution, where just three years ago he was singing, "Laugh, love, fuck, and drink liquor," (from Pick a Bigger Weapon's "Laugh/Love/Fuck") to achieve the very same thing: Did he think rock kids couldn't relate? Rather than treating the album as an opportunity to find a new audience, Riley writes as if he needs to dumb it down for a different crowd.
Some songs take brief respites from the distinctive formula Morello helped to build, from the aforementioned breakdowns in "The Oath" to the strummy opening chords of "Good Morning, Mrs. Smith" or the more fluid unaccompanied bass lines of "Somewhere in the World It's Midnight". Any and all changeups are welcome, and Riley takes those opportunities to ably switch up his flow. But whether they're riding their comfort zones or pushing themselves, the problem isn't style so much as substance. These are rock anthems, not dissertations; but in keeping things vague and general rather than Riley's normally pointed and specific raps, they rarely approach any kind of relevancy. There are a few exceptions, notably "Shock You Again", but as a portrait of a soldier ordered to torture, it falls short of indicting any specific person (or method, given the title), and the less said about the lantern-jawed soldier's accent Riley adopts here the better.
Even as a record of adequate, vaguely politicized mook-rock, it mostly falls flat, whether by lazy lyrics or some uninspired drumming from Galactic's Stanton Moore, who adds plenty of percussive touches like the judicious cowbell of "Clap For the Killers" but sinks more straightforward tracks such as "The Oath" like a stone. The touring band already has a new drummer, plus a full-time bassist and rhythm guitarist in place; perhaps the debut can be written off as a rehearsal before everyone involved can contribute their all.
