Black Rebel Motorcycle Club
Beat the Devil's Tattoo
Rating: 3.5/5.0
Label: Abstract Dragon/Vagrant
Looking at the faces of those sullen, dark-haired Black Rebel Motorcycle Club dudes staring back angrily from black and white promo glossies, I wonder if they have any grasp at all of the amount of abuse they've dealt their fans over the course of their decade-plus career. BRMC initially threw elbows for space at the garage revival table with 2001's stately, underappreciated B.R.M.C.; detractors immediately tagged the group as Jesus and Mary Chain plagiarists, though for anyone growing up after the JAMC's time, BRMC's music has always been so much more muscular than those '80s recordings and besides, you could see the band in the flesh at one of their incendiary, intensely loud shows- the kind of which nearly destroyed the floor of England's Leeds Town Hall. Their sophomore Take Them On, On Your Own was an unsatisfying attempt at sounding immediate that resulted in a label drop, guitarist/singer Peter Hayes in fisticuffs with ex-drummer Nick Jago and fans second-guessing themselves.
Enter 2005's moody, mostly-acoustic Howl, a roots-obsessed record that found a newly pompadoured Hayes and bassist Robert Levon Been putting '00s malaise in an Americana context; it was a surprisingly moving underdog of a record, released from a perhaps written-off band. Baby 81, a lukewarm attempt at pop-rock songcraft followed, as did licensing of singles to corporations, bringing about BRMC press releases, full of punk rock guilt, stating that proceeds had been earmarked from the beginning for charitable causes. Were these ups and downs not enough, a po-faced BRMC dropped The Effects of 333 in 2008, their version of Metal Machine Music, on their own Abstract Dragon label, as it's doubtful no other label would.
Beat the Devil's Tattoo is yet another peak on this band's roller coaster ride. Written in Philadelphia and recorded in Los Angeles, Tattoo is the premiere of Raveonettes touring drummer Leah Shapiro in the band; the inclusion of a lady is interesting, as much of BRMC's appeal has been the way Hayes and Been have taken so many identifying denominators of cool for rock-obsessed males- black leather, Ray Bans, White Light White Heat, vague rebellion, Live at Folsom Prison, Robert Johnson, the Beats and "No Expectations"- and breathed life into that time-honored tradition of the taciturn, black-dressed boy with a rock 'n' roll sneer.
BRMC starts sneering right away with the Poe-referencing opening title track, an acoustic guitar stomp that gets loud quick, preparing listeners for the following buzzsawing "Conscience Killer," the latest entry in a long line of BRMC songs whose titles sound cool and lyrics mean nothing. It's with "Bad Blood," though, that hope springs once more for a band on its umpteenth second chance. Over a repeating vocal hook that could go on forever ("I could see it in your eyes and now it's gone"), the song, without the listener realizing it, has slowly built into the kind of eruption of endlessly echoing feedback and distortion that marked B.R.M.C.'s best moments. "War Machine" is four minutes of distortion pedal abuse that's the complete opposite of the wistful, Howlish "Sweet Feeling." With "Evol," Leah Shapiro sets her drums on autopilot as Hayes and Been shoegaze to infinity, its narcotic pace cut in half by "Mama Taught Me Better," a rampaging, fuzz bass rocker Josh Homme wishes he could call his own- one that should be a single if Vagrant has any sense.
"River Styx" continues, just as woolly but with a leaden stomp this time and "The Toll" is about as melancholy as BRMC gets before Been's bass, sounding drugged, struggles to be heard under Hayes' fuzz and his wailing "Aya;" differing tempos aside, I imagine this is the kind of nastiness the band had in mind with the relatively polished and meek "Weapon of Choice." "Shadow's Keeper" keeps things interesting with a nifty bass solo and guitar flourishes that streak by like reflections on a windshield. "Long Way Down" is a take-or-leave piano-based song not terribly different- much less as good as- from others in their catalog ("Promise," "Windows") setting up the 10-minute "Half-State," a landscape of shifting tempos, floating lyrical ruminations on some vague complaint and some nice wah gymnastics from Hayes.
Though it may be a longstanding press release cliché, Beat the Devil's Tattoo does indeed meld the successes of BRMC's past releases- as different as they are- into cohesion. The droning majesty of B.R.M.C. is married here to the vigor of Take Them On, On Your Own, Howl's plainspoken ache for authenticity and the songwriter's ear of Baby 81. The songs may not be as monumentally great as those on earlier releases- the best here do indeed share close DNA with those that came before- yet they're good enough, fuzzy enough, loud enough, sneer-y enough to keep playing Tattoo, against my better judgment. I know they'll only break my heart when it's time for their next release.
by Chris Middleman
