Aural Fixations

NIC ARMSTRONG & THE THIEVES
The Greatest White Liar
(New West)
Remember when rock & roll, before the multiple genres and gazillion stylistic permutations, was a much simpler proposition? When all you needed was a couple of guitars, a rhythm section, three or four chords and a working knowledge of your rockabilly, R&B and country forebears? I talking about the Beatles pre-Rubber Soul, the Kinks before Ray Davies blossomed into a social critic, Buddy Holly, Gene Vincent, Chuck Berry. Nic Armstrong remembers, which is kind of odd, since the English songwriter/guitarist wasn't born until 1980. Yet Armstrong makes no bones about being inspired by that era, and he puts the lessons he's learned into practice on The Greatest White Liar. Recorded at London's famed analog studio Toe Rag, the album never truly sounds of a pre-modern era, but it certainly captures the spirit of 1964 England, when rock bands were called "beat groups." Armstrong and his posse use the basic tools of the era—two guitars, bass, drums and a soulful rasp, with occasional piano or harmonica in the mix—on a series of short, no-nonsense rock 'n' pop tunes. No heavy thinking or innovative experimentation here—just pointed observations of the many ways love lives and dies. "If you're looking to me for love/You better love yourself first," from the angry raver "Back in That Room," is as close to deep thought as Armstrong gets. And there's absolutely nothing wrong with that. The snarling rockers "I Can't Stand It" and "Mrs. the Moraliser," bopping pop tunes "She Changes Like the Weather" and "Broken Mouth Blues," good-natured C&W piece "Scratch the Surface" and sweet ballads "Too Long For Her" and "You Made It True" don't need the input of philosophy majors or social satirists to be marvelously effective. That's not to say Armstrong isn't capable of earcatching turns of phrase, mind you—the way he follows up the allegedly cheesy pickup line "You and me, babe/Let's get it on" with an admission that he's "the greatest white liar" in "I'll Come to You" bespeaks an intelligence and ambition beyond merely recycling a past era of pop music. Speaking of which, the singer's youth in no way diminishes his obvious affinity for covers of Jerry Leiber's "Down Home Girl" and Chuck Berry's "I Want to Be Your Driver." While it could certainly be argued that Armstrong's music is more about stylistic affectation than substance, I don't think the argument would hold up—the songs are too strong and the performances too sincere. The Greatest White Liar is an honest chunk of old-time rock & roll. Michael Toland [buy it]