Saturation

THE PHYSICAL power of rock'n'roll cannot be denied but to survive and prosper in the concrete rock edifice, imitation is very inadvisable. Sure, it might take you temporarily out of the swamp and into the mainstream of public consciousness (if you're good enough), but the illusion soon disperses.

Urge Overkill are in danger of finding themselves in such an unenviable position very rapidly. Their debut album is well-played, thoughtfully constructed, but it has no readily identifiable claw marks. It just sounds like another American trio recreating the atmosphere of those early Cars records. Indeed, the band don't help their case by coming up with some material that could by any other name have nestled unnoticed on any previous Cars' release. 'Sister Havana' is a deadringer for 'Shake It Up', right down to 'Eddie' King Roeser's bad-ass basslines while 'Dropout' is note-for-note 'Let The Good Times Roll', Nash Kato's guitar throwing mad moonlight shadows across the wall at the quirky climax.

Mercifully, however, they have the suss to distance themselves from slavish emulation of the automobiles with some intelligently cast intros and bridges which possess some unexpected charms. For example, 'Tequila Sundae' has an upfront beginning featuring acres of heavyish Kato guitar and, uniquely, the honeyed, lush leanings of a conspicuously up-to-date production from The Butcher Bros., while the bluesy middle section outro on 'Erica Kane' runs hot and cold through the veins, turning the taps of the heart on and off.

However, those respites apart, the crux of the matter is that subsequent spins reveal the platter as somewhat tiresome and dated, and, as such, it offers little prospect that Urge Overkill will develop into a force to be reckoned with.

* Johnny Lyons