Grace Potter & The Nocturnals don’t seem like a band prone to second-guessing, but one might wonder when the opening track of their self-titled new record is a re-recording of a B-side from their previous album ("Paris (Ooh La La)"). But it’s easy to chalk that decision up to an abundance of confidence, especially when the rest of the record practically overflows with a newfound certainty about what their band is all about. Long associated with the jam-band circuit and often tagged unfairly as a blues-rock outfit, GPTN leave no doubt as to their intentions to be nothing more and nothing less than the Next Great American Rock and Roll Band.
To be sure, they’ve got all of the clichés down pat: a sexy, hip-shaking frontwoman; band members who look like they wandered off the set of Almost Famous; Flying V’s and Hammond B-3’s. If GPTN hit all the buttons of 1970’s rock and roll, they don’t let those influences weigh down this album. It is a thoroughly modern, often pop-inflected, take on classic rock and soul. And rather than try to bottle the magic of their live performances, the band is happy to let the record be its own beast. Slick, exuberant, and refreshingly devoid of self-consciousness, Grace Potter & The Nocturnals stands apart from its impressive predecessors.
There are things on this record that simply should not work. “Goodbye Kiss,” with its reggae-influenced riff, springs to mind, but I’ll be damned if that hook doesn’t bury itself in my brain. The coda of “Tiny Light” might seem a bit tacked on, except for the fact that it unloads at just the right point in the record’s sequence. Producer Mark Batson, who co-wrote about half the songs, certainly should get some credit for focusing the band’s talents and giving them just the proper coat of studio varnish. As always, the Nocturnals for their part provide a rock-solid musical backdrop (new bassist Catherine Popper proves a particularly valuable addition, and guitarist Scott Tournet continues to evolve into a notable guitar hero).
When it comes to Potter herself, you could rattle off a list of obvious and apt comparisons - Janis Joplin, Stevie Nicks, Ann Wilson, Tina Turner – and what would be painfully obvious is how short the supply is of commanding frontwomen who both embrace and defy their femininity. Grace Potter has taken some shit in certain corners for wearing mini-dresses and high heels, but she’s nobody’s pop-tart. There’s no denying that GPTN have played the major-label game, but they’ve managed to balance the need for shameless promotion with the necessity of retaining their credibility.
I suppose I cut freewheelin’ albums like this a lot of slack, particularly at the onset of summer. My enthusiasm could be construed as backlash against my own fondness for gentle, navel-gazing singer-songwriters. Grace Potter may yet make that full album with T-Bone Burnett, or she may find in the next decade that shaking tambourines onstage night after night is a tough haul. But for now, not yet 30 years of age, Potter has plenty of rocking yet to do and this record should afford her and The Nocturnals the opportunity to do it for quite a while longer.
