Juliette and the Licks

It remains a widely held misconception among white Americans that the right to be a rock star is listed among the articles of the United Nations’ Universal Declaration of Human Rights. The fact that this ideal has yet to be fulfilled makes it patently unfair that Juliette (Natural Born Killers) Lewis, already a famous actress, should also get her own band, free publicity and a slot on the Warped Tour. Still, if the right to rock is not inalienable but a matter of merit, Juliette and the Licks represents only a partial perversion of justice. The band, led by guitarists Todd Morse and Kemble Walters, is powerful and precise, though the music is a mishmash from the back of the latest bandwagon — pulsing new-wave riffage and Detroit knuckle-sandwich rock, mostly. Lewis herself, both undeniably charismatic and overly mannered, shifts between tough-girl drawl and Patti Smith wail. And though there’s gimmickry and bombast along the way, the political song is genuinely pissed, the love song sweet and truly felt, and the rave-ups silly and sexy. Any objections should be directed to the Hague.