Pure Country Gold, Pure Country Gold (Empty Records)

[March 28th, 2007] [GARAGE ROCK] Contrary to its name, Pure Country Gold is essentially a high-energy, dirtied-up party band. Even so, the garage-rock duo has a few things to say to those willing to wade through the crunchy guitar and up-to-11 volume of the two-minute anthems on its self-titled debut. And the strongest message that emerges on Pure Country Gold is quite apt for a party band: Attitude is everything.

But let's back up a minute, because wise words aren't everything. Pure Country Gold is also abundant with high-octane guitar riffage and one-two drum bashing (traits that barely relent throughout), though relief comes at only two songs in. Thirty seconds from the end of "Jealous Mind," Patrick "Petey" Foss' guitar takes on an oldies-inspired melodic ring; drummer Jake Welliver brings the song's backbeat down step by step; and Foss' distortion-sopped voice whines, "So I'll lie instead/ Till my mind is dead," in a nostalgic croon that would make any creeper-clad, pomade-slicked greaser proud.

It's moments like this that break up what would be an otherwise tedious, repetitive album. The downfall of listening to a guitar-and-drums duo on record is that the players' live chemistry isn't right there distracting you from, well, all that guitar and drums. But, while PCG doesn't always achieve variety in song structure, it does engage listeners with great storytelling. "Sittin' at Club 21," for instance, celebrates cheap beer, bartenders who know your name and a community that revolves around good times laced with the slightest hint of danger. Likewise, "Napoleon" tells the endearing story of two men discussing the true meaning of being a "big" man (and in a live setting, Foss and Welliver are nothing if not endearing).

The absolute highlight of Pure Country Gold, however, would be just as successful with no lyrics at all: Foss' growl is at its gritty best on "King of Cortisone," but the song's jumpy, driving guitar line alone is so damn addictive it ought to come with a surgeon general's warning. And the surf-tinged, rhythmic breakdown in the song's latter half is as teeth-grindingly good as a cocaine bender. All the album's gallivanting comes to a head, though, on the edifying "Stay Sad." Over choppy blues guitar, Foss declares in a country-affected bark, "If you're gonna come cry to me/ You won't get nuthin'.../ If you're gonna be sad/ You're gonna stay sad." In this case, at least, the mopey fool on the receiving end of Foss' words is on the right track: What better way to start an attitude adjustment than by listening to Pure Country Gold?