Any band who describe themselves as a 'loud, balls-to-the-wall rock band' should probably be strung up by said paraphernalia and made to listen to their presumable self-indulgent twaddle as a method of torture. Because Lebowski's self-titled debut album is less than half an hour long, though, there's a chance that their narcissism is limited and that biog is being slightly facetious; ergo, they're worth a listen at the very least. The Dublin quartet have been gigging since 2003, yet only released their self-financed, self-recorded, self-produced and self-released (on their own Crackhead Records label) debut in December 2006. The result is a decent half hour's worth of varying musical styles. Opening with a blast of powerful metal-tinged chords mixed with semi-spacey layers, NB comes across as Foo Fighters-meets-Kasabian; yet, though the album bristles with a plethora of robust 'rawk' riffs, they refuse to set their stall out solely as mean-metal-muthas. Beard's Law is a rather less in-your-face offering, infused with a melodic MBV-style fuzz, yet Stuart Corr's vocals - at times reminiscent of both Billie Joe Armstrong's Yankee twang and Damien Dempsey-does-Deep Purple - is in danger of being swallowed by the more brazen tracks. C.U.N.T.'s (C U Next Time, apparently) repetitive refrain ('One of these days I'm gonna crack / One of these days I'm gonna get my own back') teeters uncomfortable close to lyrical mortification; but the couplet of Tell Your Friends and Never Enough redeems proceedings, the latter being the album's standout track: all woozy guitar, downbeat, nihilistic vocals and threatening lyrics. It's songs like Heaven Help Me and Sand that baffle, though - both are mid-tempo acoustic ditties that seem misplaced and upset the album's balance badly. If they were included in an effort to showcase Lebowski's ability to undertake different musical styles, that plan backfired terribly. Their forte is hard-hitting, QOTSA rock tunes, not tracks that sound like Damo Dempsey cast-offs. This album is certainly not the complete package; but if Lebowski concentrate on what they're good at and cultivate that sound, they may interest more than the teen metallers that hang around Central Bank.
