Slobberbone, from a show at the Gypsy Team Room in Dallas. Daniel's photos didn't come out. If you took this picture, which we borrowed from the band's website, we'll be happy to add your credit.

Those of you that cringe every time you hear Bob Seger, imagining a Ford commercial or Tom Cruise cavorting in his tighty-whiteys, have faith. Old time rock and roll played by feckless knee-biters can certainly suck, and thankfully is in serious danger of becoming a thing of the past (found only in Dallas honky-tonks and lame outdoor festivals).

And then there's Slobberbone, whose third album, Everything You Thought Was Right Was Wrong Today, renewed my faith in what the genre can do. I was glad that I no longer had to abjure my love of hard rock (As a matter fact, Stephen King even praised the album's highlight, the eight-minute country tribute "Gimme Back My Dog"). Suddenly, I remembered all the hard, bluesy country rock elements I loved in Cracker's "Can I Take My Gun Up to Heaven" and just about every Old 97s tune ever written. It has something to do with the guitar-ridden, grass roots earthiness that artists like Steve Earle can tap into at a moment's notice, evoking everthing there is to know about living the American life. Therefore, it was with very high expectations that I went to the Mercury Lounge, hoping to see Slobberbone pull that rabbit out of the hat one more time.

The Mercury Lounge is the smaller sister club of the larger Bowery Ballroom. Dry ice-loving bands like Mercury Rev play the Bowery; sweat and cigarette smoke bands play the Mercury Lounge. The Mercury Lounge is small, cramped and very intimate, with no backstage to speak of. The musicians walk through the crowd with their instruments ,and stand to the side of the stage before they play the encore.

I arrived in the middle of Say Zuzu's set. A four-member band from New Hampshire, Say Zuzu features the vocal and songwriting talents of Cliff Murphy and Jon Nolan. Nolan looks like Leslie West of Mountain and Cliff Murphy looks like Neal Schoen in Journey's early days. Aside from their enormous sideburns, they also showed off their musical chops -- a mix of urgent classic rock-derived tunes and delicate, contemplative songs. Touring in support of their critically-acclaimed effort Every Mile, Say Zuzu were clearly at ease and enjoying themselves in that way that bands who like their new stuff tend to do: lots of smiles and lots of energy.

Slobberbone took the stage soon after, marking their third annual visit to the Mercury Lounge. From the roar of the crowd, it was clear that many present were either in attendance at that first show or were friends of the people at that first show. Slobberbone consists of singer Brent Best (who looks like the cooler brother of Jack Black), bassist Brian Lane (who looks like and is a tall as NBA great Bill Walton), lead guitarist Jess Barr (who looks like Hollywood heartthrob and all-around terrible actor Josh Hartnett) and drummer Tony Harper (who looks like nobody I can think of). Slobberbone's music is an age-old blend of country and rock (sorry, they aren't no depression), but mainly just rock. The songs are written by Brent Best, and sung in his trademark growl -- warm and honest rather than threatening. This is why Slobberbone comes across as your best friend's -- and not your older brother's -- band. They happily commiserate with their audience instead of complaining bitterly about shitty jobs and ugly breakups. Best's songs have real narrative strength, relating the stories of Middle American beauty queens ("Josephine") and burn-outs ("Billy Pritchard") with unflinching insight and compassion. Many bands are content with the occasional witty line that is supposed to pass for experience. Best is subliminally in touch with his milieu. Not surprisingly, Brent engaged the audience with friendly badinage between songs, at one point telling some pirate jokes and inviting the audience to do the same. With a room as small as the Mercury Lounge, the energy level dictated that Slobberbone play mostly their harder rocking tunes, such as "Bright Eyes Darkened", with only a few of the slower acoustic songs in between. Still, the humorous front porch sing-along "Lazy Guy", the clever metaphorical ode "Pinball Song" and the rag "Engine Joe" broke up the momentum and let the band show off their range.

The jelly-fingered, chain-smoking Jess Barr, a graduate of the Stimsonian Institute of Guitar Playing, played refreshingly unclichéd licks that set fire to each song. He proved to be an equally adept and impassioned banjo picker. Watching him, we felt, was what it may have been like to witness the excitement generated by a Replacements show (when they weren't completely falling down drunk). After each song, the members were covered in sweat, spent from playing some of the most physically demanding music ever invented.

Although I liked the songs and appreciated the talent, I was more struck by the reality of the performance, and I was happy to see that rock and roll would be safe for a little while yet. This thought was driven home by Slobberbone's decision to end the concert with Neil Young's "Keep On Rocking in the Free World" -- a bold choice for any band in this post-ironic, meta-cool day and age. On the way home, I couldn't help remembering the simple epigram from the liner notes of Slobberbone's Barrel Chested: "Remember: It's rock."

Article by Daniel Arizona.