Riverboat Gamblers

Maybe there’s Pabst in the water or something. A whole generation of college students has transmuted into a rabble of beer-swillin’, bloody-knuckled badasses. As you know if you’ve been reading the music press, these proto-punkish rawk bands, these cold-blooded, hog-ridin’, Gibson-wieldin’ Visigoths are here for one reason: to kick ass. Ooh, I’m sooo scared. The fact is, the bands actually causing damage are the ones that started this movement — like the Lazy Cowgirls, Supersuckers and New Bomb Turks — long before it became cool. Among the younger broods, there are just a few exceptional bands with genuine spirit and 8-cylinder kick, including Denton, Texas’ Riverboat Gamblers and San Diego’s Dragons. The Gamblers’ infectious sophomore album, Something to Crow About, offers plenty of jet-propelled, garagey crunch, but these guys are secure enough with their shit-kicking credentials to throw in a slow number like the reverb-soaked ’50s ballad “Lottie Mae.” The Dragons, on the other hand, don’t bother with ballads. On Sin Salvation, the band’s fourth album, brittle early attempts at Heartbreakers-like sleaze have matured into sleek muscle rock that unites West-Coast hardcore with the band’s more primitive passions. Each track beats on the brat with obsessive consistency, only now they use a nightstick rather than a broken bottle. Poseurs and opportunists are advised to report directly to their career counselors and choose a new major.