Subtlety isn’t among The Grovelers’ strong suits. But good for them! Otherwise, the Milwaukee quartet’s animated blur of rockabilly with ’60s and ’70s punk wouldn’t be nearly the audacious thrill ride they make it on their second album, Cream City Nights. Singer Skip (most Grovelers don’t bother with last names) puts his comically snotty lyrics through many elongations and variations à la Lux Interior and Mojo Nixon.
But, as evidenced by a catholicity of influence that allows for howling harmonica and echoes of ghostly surf guitar, the band reconfigures mid-20th-century underground roots rock to their own manic ends. And when they do approach nuance, when bassist-singer Lemonie Fresh begins one number in the manner of a lonesome country weeper, soon enough the proceedings revert back to cacophony.
