Art Brut ALBUM: “Art Brut vs. Satan” LABEL: Cooking Vinyl âÄúArt Brut vs. SatanâÄú is exactly what one would expect from an Art Brut album. The guitar licks remain sultry; the lyrics are clever, frank and, at times, borderline inane; and frontman Eddie Argos still canâÄôt sing worth a damn (or at least is still choosing not to). ItâÄôs the same thing for a third time âÄî the notable exception being the help of producer Frank Black of Pixies fame âÄî but the members of Art Brut donâÄôt care, and neither do the fans of their characteristic sound. TheyâÄôll continue making powerful, honest songs and theyâÄôll continue to be loved for it. The album kicks off with a couple of tracks that highlight Art BrutâÄôs ability to construct thick rock ballads centered on personal, cultural-laden lyrics. Simple musical lines build on top of each other for an effect that is both catchy and intricate as Argos spits out something or other about his boring life. In âÄúAlcoholics Unanimous âÄú he reflects on the wild night before and desperately shouts for someone to bring him coffee. In âÄúDC Comics and Chocolate Milkshake âÄú he tells us about how much he likes cereal and DC Comics despite the fact that heâÄôs 28 years old. Argos sputters out, âÄúDC Comics and chocolate milkshake/some things will always be great.âÄù ItâÄôs a chorus thatâÄôs so stupid and undemanding that itâÄôs completely endearing. ThatâÄôs not to say that these guys are unintelligent; theyâÄôre far from it. Their apparent lyrical simplicity, along with ArgosâÄô candid delivery, often betrays their cleverness, and thatâÄôs part of what makes them such lovable scamps. The band earns their stripes with their witty musings, from their casual ramblings about drunken escapades and everyday tedium to their hyper-aware nods to rockâÄôs glorious past. Songs of the first category include the chant-heavy âÄúWhat a Rush,âÄù which finds Argos lying in someoneâÄôs bed, wondering aloud where his clothes went, and the ode to the working man that is âÄúSummer Job,âÄù where he pleads with his boss to be fired. These basic narratives are rife with comedic observations and twanging guitars that make it hard not to see the appeal of this band. But what makes Art Brut so popular in the indie scene has to be their sharp references to rock history. Song titles like âÄúThe PassengerâÄù and âÄúTwist and ShoutâÄù would appear to signal classic covers but, upon close listening, lack even the faintest trace of their titular predecessors. And lyrical homages provide an irresistibly subtle charm. When Argos sings, âÄúI canâÄôt get no satisfaction/IâÄôve got an itch I canâÄôt stop scratchinâÄô,âÄù rock nerds will like him. But when he belts out, âÄúThey call it lo-fi?/If you say so/Cool your warm jets/Brian Eno,âÄù disciples of the church of indie will revere him. Furthermore, âÄúThe ReplacementsâÄù âÄî a song about ArgosâÄô amazement that heâÄôd never heard the celebrated Minneapolis band until now âÄî will make indie fans drool with delight. âÄúArt Brut vs. SatanâÄù has all the same moves and rarely deviates from past impulses. So what? For most bands, this would be a problem, but Art Brut has such a strong grasp on their style that it doesnâÄôt really matter. TheyâÄôll never be The Clash, but they donâÄôt want to be. TheyâÄôre content with delivering a quality product, even if itâÄôs nothing new. 4 of 5 stars