Good rock gets harder and harder to find as the years go on. When something excellent comes around it quickly disappears. While nursing the wound of the semi-recent Mclusky split, I was absolutely blindsided by the even more traumatizing Hot Snakes break up. Oh Lord, why do bad things happen to good people?
The way I see it, there are about two or three ass-kicking rock albums per year. That’s really not much. A lot of bands try, but are too often bogged down by musical and lyrical clichés, not to mention a whole lot of this-album-wore-itself-thin-at-song-threeitis.
On paper, The Hold Steady doesn’t seem to really improve things much. The band plays rollicking bar rock (complete with Thin Lizzy style guitarmony) that is familiar to even the most novice rock fan/drunk. Singer, Craig Finn never really sings, he just gargles and spurts in a way that can be off-putting. Lyrically the band seems to say the same things (a drinking game could be made for the number of times that Finn says “hoodrat,” although one would be fall down drunk about halfway through track three). The pieces aren’t really there for a great album, but there it is. Separation Sunday is a great rock album. And it’s about damn time somebody put out something decent again.
I’m usually skeptical of a review that emphasizes an album’s lyrics - it’s the first sign that the music cannot captivate on its own - but it is the Finn’s storytelling that is at the forefront of the album. Separation Sunday tells an overarching story about a girl named Hallelujah who runs with a bad crowd and gets messed up, and then maybe she gets redeemed. I’m not quite sure. It’s the little lines that catch the ear. Finn uses his proverb-to-non sequitor for everything from aging (“She got high for the last time on the banks of the Mississippi river / Lord, to be 33 forever”), to religion (“If they think you’re a Christian then they won’t bring in the dogs / If they think you’re Catholic then they’ll just want to meet your boss”) to referencing aging rockers as a backhanded compliment (“You remind me of Rod Stewart when he was young / You got passion / You think that you’re sexy / And all the punks think that you’re dumb / and the guys around the lockers got a story about a stomach pump”).
As incisive and strong as the lyrics are, Finn’s coughed-up rants wouldn’t be half as effective without the absolutely exuberant ruckus that surrounds him. Even if The Hold Steady merely plays bar rock, it is some of the best bar rock anyone is likely to hear for quite some time. From the double guitar assault of “Banging Camps” to the glorious lead line of “Chicago Seemed Tired Last Night,” The Hold Steady spare nothing and no one in their efforts to buoy Finn’s lyrics with solid rock n’ roll chops.
The combination of Finn’s whisky-soaked (more specifically, Makers-soaked) witticisms and the band’s stadium-fit-for-a-bar type rock coalesce nicely on the album’s standout, “Your Little Hoodrat Friend.” The song uses all the hard rock tricks – palm mutes, loud/soft dynamics, an actual chorus - and shapes them into something that is simultaneously familiar and transcendent.
With its heavy biblical themes, it seems fitting that The Hold Steady’s success comes in finding a balance in being both the salt and the light of rock n’ roll. Finn’s drunken musings may be a hard pill to swallow, but with music this fun, everything goes down easy. Finn may be all spit, but the Hold Steady always maintains the swagger.
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