Recorded Music Reviews of new releases from Buckcherry, The Hellacopters, and Robert Cray.   Take Your Shoes Off Robert Cray (Rykodisc) Of related interest: B.B. King, Solomon Burke Seasoned bluesman Robert Cray evidently made a wise move switching from sorry Polydor to Rykodisc, as this is easily his finest recording to date. The economy of his guitar playing finally rises to the level of B.B. King's, with note-bending clarity and terse delivery. His vocals avoid the clichéd, over-reaching earnestness that ballasts most contemporary blues recordings. Instead, Cray settles for a sorrowful resignation, perfect for his songs of love gone wrong. Also, for the first time, Cray's band sounds as if it's breaking a sweat, laying down some sweet Memphis-style grooves. There are moments--the sound of Jim Pugh's organ on the Otis Redding-inspired "It's All Gone," the jump blues of "What About Me"--when this group sounds like the ghost of a dusty Stax/Volt recording come alive. Toss back a shot for Steve Jordan's production, which finally eschews slickness and brings out the blues from this fine band. Bill Smith   Grande Rock The Hellacopters (Sub Pop) Loudmouth Loudmouth (Hollywood) Buckcherry Buckcherry (Dreamworks) Of related interest: Ted Nugent, KISS, Miller Genuine Draft Buckcherry, The Weaklings, Nine Volt Mile Satyricon, 125 NW 6th Ave., 243-2380 10 pm Wednesday, May 19 $6 Since the popular preppy kids' docksiders world wasn't my size, I spent many high-school weekends slugging Bud from plastic cups, damaging my ears with high-volume Van Halen and sitting in on debates about motorcycles and why Zakk Wylde couldn't carry Randy Rhoads' jock. Then I unearthed a music scene that prized an active cerebral cortex over an absorbent liver and discovered that even simple-minded punks subscribe to a basic moral creed beyond "Dude, you can't harsh on AC/DC! Angus is God!" I gratefully turned away from bad rock. But bad rock is back, and, much to my annoyance, punk clubs welcome it. After starting with irony--"KISS is cool because it's stupid!"--people are embracing atrocious '70s dino-rock--"KISS is cool, period." There's a difference between punk rock 'n' roll--the Humpers, Candy Snatchers, et al.--and putz rock 'n' roll like these new cocks on the block. Fuzzy production fools people into thinking these guys are punk. But with pose-ready solos and vocalists caterwauling "baby," "mama" and "owright!" they seem more like Faster Pussycat sans mascara. First off, let's knock the Hellacopters down a notch. I can hear jaws dropping from Seattle to Saskatoon. "No, man, those guys rock!" is the most intricate argument you'll usually hear supporting these Swedes. A year ago I may have agreed. Early records like Supershitty to the Max were roughhousing riots of distorted, MC5-style party tunes. But on the new Sub Pop disc Grande Rock the truth shines clear as an empty MGD bottle: These dudes are B-U-T-T R-O-C-K. Crisp production exposes the music's masturbatory core--there are more solos than lyrics--and it's no stretch to imagine stage bimbos in cages. When's the Nuge tribute coming out? One lyric tells you all you need to know about Loudmouth: "Got long hair, black bandana/Get stoned, listen to Santana." In the past I'd have expected such brain-dead, Motley-Crüe-meets-Alice-in-Chains crap to be tossed from punk-rock playlists. Today, I'm not so sure. As if to prove my point, Buckcherry headlines a show at Satyricon. Oh sure, the singer has "chaos" tattooed to his abdomen, but his eyeliner looks a little too Decline of Western Civilization 2 for comfort. And how "alternative" is music that sounds like the Black Crowes wound up on mounds of blow? (The very first lyric is "I'm on a plane with cocaine, and I'm all lit up again." You go, bro!) Of course, advocates say rock 'n' roll is supposed to be simple, lighthearted fun. What isn't after 10 cups of keg beer? Take this rock and shove it. John Graham - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Willamette Week | originally published May 19, 1999