How many times have I said this now?  It’s all Heather Browne’s fault.

I discovered Heather’s music blog I Am Fuel, You Are Friends (it’s a Pearl Jam quote) a couple of years back and it’s been costing me money ever since.  I’ll stop by to see what she thinks of the latest Springsteen or Vedder or Fountains Of Wayne or something and all of a sudden I’ll be plunking down cash for Jeff Buckley or Superdrag instead.

And thank the Deity for that, because, as in several other cases, I picked Last Call For Vitriol up based a hundred percent on Heather’s praise, and it’s yet another diamond in the rough.

The question in the most recent of the many spins I’ve given this disc has been, can the rest of the album ever live up to a beginning as terrific as this one’s?  Solo acoustic guitar strums coax out a rather Pete Townshend-y repeating chord (think “Behind Blue Eyes”) until the vocals come in, tight and intense: “She’s one in a billion / With lips of vermillion / She created the heavens / Baby goes to eleven / When she rides beside me / Her bright lights will hide me / She is one with the heavens / Baby goes to eleven.”  And then the full band kicks in with driving drums and fat electric chords and the song turns into a roaring, soaring, propulsive anthem that feels like a rawer, more visceral reimagining of Tom Petty’s classic “American Girl” -- which happens to be one of my favorite songs ever.  When drummer Don Coffey Jr. goes all Keith Moon at the bridge while singer and chief songwriter John Davis holds it all together by pure force of will, I’m sold.  No, I’m more than sold; I’m a fan.

Last Call For Vitriol is, like each of Superdrag’s four complete studio discs to date, uniquely a product of its context. At the point it came along, the band had been in turmoil for the better part of its eight-year lifespan, having signed with Elektra with great expectations in 1996, only to be virtually abandoned two years later, leaving the band splintered but determined to carry on.  By 2002, they were down to original members Davis and Coffey, with Mic Harrison on electric guitar and Sam Powers contributing bass, guitar and vocals.

The sound on Last Call is reminiscent of another fave of mine, the Gin Blossoms, and both bands obviously owe a huge debt to Big Star, the prototypical misunderstood power-pop savants.  What Superdrag adds to the mix of jangly, hooky, cynical guitar-pop is a welcome element of rawness.  Yeah, “I Can’t Wait” and “So Insincere” feature catchy riffs and strong choruses, but there’s a noise quotient that multiplies the edginess of their fervent lyrics.

Another brilliantly conceived number “Feeling Like I Do” has an almost Beach Boys, pleading-love-song feel to the opening lines, but the riffage is heavy and fuzzy and the lyric gets darker and darker as it becomes clear the narrator is fighting to protect his girl from his own self-destructive tendencies. The Gin Blossoms parallels are obvious; when the tambourine comes in behind the guitar solo you can almost feel Doug Hopkins in the room.

Davis’s classicist instincts shine through elsewhere as well.  “Way Down Here Without You” features rich, Byrds-y acoustics and three-part harmonies; “Her Melancholy Tune” is a Revolver-esque vignette that would have George and Paul nodding and grinning. Back on the noisy end of things, Powers contributes the quirky/hooky thumper “Remain Yer Strange” and the thrashing, rather punky “Stu,” both worthy additions to the Superdrag catalog, even if they turned out to be Powers’ swan song with the band.

Last Call For Vitriol looked like it might have been the end of the road for Superdrag at the time.  With Powers’ departure the band went on hiatus and Davis subsequently issued a couple of solo discs.  The band’s original lineup reconvened last year, though, touring and preparing to return to the studio this month to record together for the first time in a decade. 

Rating: A-

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