Nickelback
Silver Side Up
Roadrunner Records

Sloan
Pretty Together
Murder Records


People people
It's up to you
They say rock 'n' roll is dead again
You tell me if it's true.
-- Sloan, "Pick It Up and Dial It"

"You're in high school, and all your friends are out partying, getting
laid and basically doing what most kids do when their hormones are
raging with nowhere to go. I really just wanted to play my guitar. And
this is long before I ever started singing. I would skip school. I
wouldn't do my homework. There were a lot of Friday and Saturday nights
when my friends were out partying and drinking and chasing chicks, and I
was in my bedroom playing scales."
-- Nickelback singer Chad
Kroeger, in an interview in R&R magazine


This is what went wrong with rock 'n' roll.

Critics, pundits and fans have been wondering why good ol' American
guitar rock has struggled on the charts in the last few years. Hip-hop
has been blamed, and probably rightly so. Hip-hop has been the most
vital music of the last decade and has stolen much fire and energy from
the mantle of rock. Some people claim that rock's spirit died with Kurt
Cobain (baloney). Others have looked to electronica, even claiming that
it would replace rock (something that's been claimed once a decade since
the '70s).

But instead of looking for external enemies -- the barbarians massing
at the borders -- rock lovers and players should look within. The
disease crippling rock is a psychological one. In the pre-Sept. 11
booming economy, blinding optimism and general good times, rock stopped
having fun. While everyone's 401(k)s were flush and "The Daily Show" was
still full of laughs, perhaps singing about having a good time began to
feel redundant. Seeking yang, many artists and fans then sought the
other extreme, and sodden, pessimistic, mildly occult music flowed into
the mainstream of rock. Lots of thudding rhythms, gagging vocals and
horrific lyrical themes. The audience dwindled.

Of course, the ones who were good at this stuff were the ones like
Kroeger, the ones who locked themselves in their bedroom throughout high
school and never got their ya-yas out. In other words, rockers
apparently don't wanna get chicks anymore.

This is, of course, an absurd and gross generalization -- let no man
attempt to tear Lenny Kravitz asunder -- but one that occurred last week
while listening to Nickelback's sophomore record. It's a good album,
make no mistake. It just isn't much fun.

Nickelback has cast off into the mainstream with a huge hit album, and
it's clear why "Silver Side Up" is selling mountains of discs.
Maintaining the usual discordant tone of current hard rock, the
arrangements on this album are simpler; they're still powerful -- even
melodic on many occasions -- and they still grind, they just don't crush
us underneath an overbearing wall of sound (lighter and more
approachable even than similar hard-rock hitmakers, such as Creed, Fuel
or Three Doors Down). This nicely showcases Kroeger's voice, a rich
mixture of Hootie husk and gargling sand.

A half hour of listening to Kroeger discuss his personal demons,
though, isn't exactly the best way to pump up a party. The opening track
dives right into a story about a drunk loser beating up a woman. From
there we move through tales of dying relationships, dead fathers,
violent jealousy and the hiding of a fugitive. The minor chords and
juggernaut rhythms enhance the gloom of Kroeger's poetry. "I'm hating
all of this," he laments in "Woke Up This Morning." "I want to rip his
heart out," he spits, green with jealousy, in "Just For." "Good Times
Gone" ends the album on this note: "You can bribe the devil, you can
pray to God / You can sell off everything you've got / And you still
won't know / Where the good times gone."

So when Kroeger bellows repeatedly throughout the hit single, "How You
Remind Me," "Are we having fun yet?" -- well, his sarcastic tone is
answer enough.

Not bloody much.

Still, Nickelback's the one on top of the charts. Americans and the
band's fellow Canadians are throwing down tenners left and right to
snatch up the misery, which surely says something about our collective
state of mind.

On the other end of both scales -- popularity and approach -- is Sloan,
returning to the shelves with another frisky, gamboling record of
r-a-w-k, rock. While Nickelback and its ilk crank out sharp but soggy
stuff, Sloan cranks up its Marshall stacks and tackles old- fashioned
subjects: girls, rock itself, and girls.

Five seconds after pressing play, one of the band's singers is
shouting, "This song is dedicated to you, 'cause this song is for people
who know what rock 'n' roll is about!" This is the introduction to "If
It Feels Good, Do It," which the band lays out as a traditional credo
for rock 'n' roll.

It's easy to connect the dots from the Beatles to Badfinger to Cheap
Trick to the Plimsouls to the Posies to Sloan -- the six degrees of
power-pop separation. Sloan is a quartet from Nova Scotia (yet another
way they are diametrically opposite from Vancouver's Nickelback) that's
been making clap-along rock for a decade in relative obscurity. Perhaps
that will all change.

"At some point in the early '90s, the fake punk and the jock met and
just created the most reprehensible, objectionable (expletive) creature
and took over," drummer Andrew Scott said upon the release of "Pretty
Together." "But I always prefer being the constant underdog -- and now I
feel our time is nigh."

Of course, they've said that upon the release of each of the band's
previous five albums, and they're understandably perturbed that their
early-'90s records on the once-mighty Geffen label were shorted
promotion by the distraction of label-mates Nirvana. But the unwavering
optimism is only one sign of this band's cheery outlook. "Pretty
Together" is much more fun.

All four Sloan guys write songs (the Beatles comparisons could go on
forever), and this batch features a reverie about the flicks ("In the
Movies"), a dangerous come-on ("The Other Man"), mushy daydreams
("Dreaming of You," "It's in Your Eyes"), a moody character sketch ("The
Life of a Working Girl") and plenty of power chords. The lyrics are
brassy, beautiful and empowering, often plugged into traditional rock
'n' roll anti-authoritarian sentiments ("Feels good to do it, even if
you shouldn't," "Just this once I think I might cast the rules aside,"
"Don't give up like you're supposed to do").

And when it comes right down to it, Sloan is a much more exciting
soundtrack for a house party. But then, there are many kinds of
parties.

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Sounds like . . . when you want more of the same

Like the Nickelback, Creed, Fuel side of rock 'n' roll? Then check out
these recent releases:

Adema, Adema (Arista). Of the whole nu-metal crew, Adema has the only
songs and the melodies to brag about. "Giving In," for instance, is a
perilous descent into madness, but it borrows the best aspects of
hair-metal power ballads and mid-'90s spook rock to fashion an affecting
musical mood. Singer Mark Chavez doesn't sing like most nu-metal
monkeys, either; instead of shoving the microphone down his throat and
growling, he actually enunciates through what must be a wicked smile.
The result is more Placebo than Pantera.

Days of the New, Days of the New (Outpost). Travis Meeks traffics in
old modern rock cliches -- lots of dropped-D tuning, Robert Plant wails,
extreme dynamics, droning guitars -- but, bless his heart, he's got
something most of these guys don't and never did: conviction. This new
album could have (should have) been released in 1992 and gone head to
head with Alice in Chains' "Dirt." As it is, it's a complete, layered
collection of anachronisms that pale next to classic Soundgarden but, if
you're still hanging onto the flannel era, boast a winning passion.

Live, V (Radioactive). Live is the most ridiculous, pretentious band
working in rock today. On "V," they return to the scene trying to sound
relevant, which means they've added samples, lumbering rhythms and --
yegods -- rap. Singer Ed Kowalczyk's whiny voice here finally gets
beyond his Michael Stipe idolatry and sounds like the singer he more
closely resembles, vocally and lyrically: Geddy Lee. This is not
necessarily a compliment.

Sevendust, Animosity (TVT). What was once an exciting band -- because
they had the heavy metal power but also the grooves -- sinks here into
the swamp of new heavy metal. Too much bottom-end roar and screaming
saps Lajon Witherspoon's phenomenal voice, and Sevendust winds up
surprisingly indistinguishable from the nu- metal gang.

System of a Down, Toxicity (American). When the Muppets go absolutely,
incontrovertibly insane, this is what they will sound like. Grover
foaming at the mouth and shouting, "They're trying to build a prison for
you and me to live in!" Fozzy Bear sinisterly locking the door behind
you and ranting about his conspiracy theories. All this while Gonzo sets
fire to the Muppet theater and begins sniping at the old men in the
opera box. "Toxicity" is a rapid- fire hissy fit, with singer Serj
Tankian spitting out screeds on social injustices while the band knocks
down walls with their instruments. Songs such as "Pris on Song" and
"Chop Suey" are speedy splices of strange voices, momentary rants,
squeals and whines.

Like the punchy, poppy Sloan side of rock 'n' roll? Then check out
these recent releases:

The K.G.B., The K.G.B. (DreamWorks). K.G.B. singer Toby's songwriting
philosophy: "I don't feel like writing songs to express my misery; I
feel like writing songs like James Brown. When I listen to that stuff, I
want to go out and see a band and drink beer and and have fun. I want
our music to give people the same feeling." The K.G.B. is a formidable
foe -- bright, tight power pop that's sloppy enough around the edges to
accomplish Toby's mission. Pure pop with shades of ska, soul, even
doo-wop. Suave and surprisingly sexy.

Something Corporate, Audioboxer EP (MCA-Drivethru). The six songs on
this shining EP from these SoCal newcomers are informed by this lyric,
from the first song: "I'm dying to figure out a girl." The songs bounce
between bullies, bad days and an incorrigible "Punk Rock Princess."
Andrew McMahon writes on piano, so the songs bump more than grind, and
while his voice may be overly chewy and sweet as taffy, teen angst
hasn't been this catchy in decades.

Sugarbomb, Bully (RCA-RainMaker). Fort Worth's Sugarbomb manages to
employ the hot guitars and woven harmonies from Queen without sounding,
well, queeny. They even manage to maintain a sense of humor without
being smarmy. In other words, they make pop perfection look incredibly
easy. Singer Les Farrington exudes the vulnerable machismo of Peter
Case, and the whole disc sounds like Brian May producing the Barenaked
Ladies. Fluffy and fun.

The Tender Idols, Distressor (E-magine). Produced by Gavin MacKillop
(Admiral Twin), "Distressor" finds the Idols stretching their pop ideals
into wide, vast visions. Guitarist Danny Howes grew up on Midnight Oil,
Japan, the Church, the Police -- and his music shows it. It's quite a
reach from their more traditional pop roots, and sometimes it's labored
and heavy, but if your ears are still ringing from Oasis and the like,
the Idols might make a nice diversion.

The Verve Pipe, Underneath (RCA). Not rockers by any means, the Verve
Pipe write pretty pop songs. This is, after all, Brian Vander Ark, the
guy who collaborated with XTC's Andy Partridge. "Underneath" starts off
heady, like it's Alan Parsons or Peter Gabriel (who Vander Ark resembles
in many ways), but glides easily into some nicely structured melody this
side of Neil Finn or Fountains of Wayne's Adam Schlesinger, who produced
this CD.

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Thomas Conner, World entertainment writer, can be reached at 581-8473 or via e-mail at thomas.conner@tulsaworld.com.