The Swaggerts: The Whole Story

Let's take the Swaggerts, for example. This New Haven-based outfit is hellbent on restoring the grit to rock and roll. On their new album, The Whole Story, they combine postwar swing, the tender yet badass melodrama of country and rockabilly, and the electric rumble of garage and punk, giving a reverent nod to all the stylistic milestones in rock and roll that make modern rock resemble the flimsy, whiny bombast that it is. Of course, the band's fierce loyalty to its influences makes its persona seem more imitative than original. But hey, if it ain't broke, don't complain.

The sound, despite its derivative nature, melds different genres and emotional timbres in a remarkably eclectic way. The Swaggerts belt out driving, four-four numbers reminiscent of surf and trashy garage. The songs are tense and lean but deceptively complex in their primitiveness. There's even an obligatory ode to beer that's enthusiastic enough to be on a halftime Coors Light commercial. However, it's juxtaposed against bittersweet country ballad, including a poignant two-chord ditty about loving someone till your dying day. The buttery vocals bounce from Elvis-esque trembling to punk snarl to hillbilly crooning. The Swaggerts show off their instrumental prowess with twangy guitars and a bluesy rhythm section, particularly in their brand of homey rockabilly, which reminds even the unschooled listener of Carl Perkins, truck-stop diners, and the comforting rhythm of a glowing dotted line pulsing past on a twilight highway.

Underlying the brusque tunefulness is a working class pride tinged with irony. Whatever the lament or euphoria, be it romantic trouble or the joys of cheap alcohol, the Swaggerts make the most of their seemingly generic range to speak for the average guy, as well as anyone out there who lives for the simple pleasures in life. (Feralette)

—Michelle Chen

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