Pitchfork

In some ways, the generational disfiguration of rock and roll was inevitable-- since its murky birth, rock has borrowed, appropriated, subverted, and redispatched tiny bits and pieces of a million different (and varied) subcultures. The sloppy-but-beautiful result of all this mashing is sorta impossible to define with any degree of authority or clarity (really, watch VH1 for five minutes and see) but rock's intangible, ass-kicking essence still rambles on in the eternally damned souls and pointed index/pinky fingers of contemporary outfits like NYC's blaring, 70s-inspired Darediablo. Even if you've been shamelessly devil-horning to How the West Was Won all summer, Feeding Frenzy, Darediablo's oozing Southern Records debut, is a thick enough slab of instrumental rock to earn some vigorous head-thrashing and volume-topping of its own.

Darediablo have distilled rock and roll to an alarmingly pure state (never fretting over peripheral shit like lyrics, vocalists, or a fourth member) and they deliver their throbbing, gimmick-free sprawl without a single weepy apology or power-ballad-for-the-ladies. Hammond and Rhodes organs, guitars, and drums kick out the jams trio-style (keyboards at the front), and their muscular output sounds about as authentically rockist as possible in 2003-- although, like any group of honest rockers, Darediablo owe a few nods to their blues/jazz/funk brethren (especially groove-heavy outfits like The Meters).

And much like label-and-city mates Ui, Darediablo have nailed down blunt New York jabbing. Feeding Frenzy's thrusts are unrelenting: Jake Garcia's thick, angular riffing may evoke lots of fond (if repressed) Deep Purple memories, and all three have chops-y tendencies that could be considered sorta prog. But Feeding Frenzy is more of a beer-in-plastic-cups party than a studied meditation, and the music is jumpy enough to get anyone dancing-- even if all your moves are preemptively restricted to fist-pumping and head-bobbing.

"The Hornet" shows off the band's raw, throwback power: mercilessly self-assured, the track opens with some heavy, distorted guitar play, until organs pulse in and stake claim of the melody. Chad Royce's drums push hard, Garcia solos nimbly, and keyboardist Matt Holford dutifully keeps shit in check; everywhere, kids in black t-shirts and ill-fitting jeans bite their lips and grimace happily. The big, crunchy guitar opening (and subsequent recession) happens a lot on Feeding Frenzy-- "Dark Horse" sees Garcia's pounds fall away to some comparably benign organ jamming, while "Slide Rule" comfortably intertwines guitar and keyboard. Darediablo can be a little trickier than they seem on paper, though: the instrumentation here is clever enough to satiate those who regularly storm through Guitar magazine, and their approach is varied enough (from heavy to relaxed to curiously harmonious) to keep casual listeners poised and curious.

They've got kind of a ridiculous name, a semi-hilarious album title, and a photograph of a silvery fish popsicle on the red-checked cover of their record, but Darediablo still nobly transcend every other meatheaded hard rock cliché by consistently pushing out thick, unadorned, intellectual rock and roll-- complete with compelling grooves, unremitting force, and lots of opportunities for bookshelf-shaking blasts.