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April 7 - 14, 2000

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Hooked on a feeling

Is there no end to Huck's genius? We hope not.

by John O'Neill

Huck Huck have always been considered one of Wormtown's shining jewels; we can't recall the band ever going through a period of stinking out the joint. Nope, guitarist Scott Ricciuti, drummer Dan Lucas, and a cavalcade of four-stringers always seemed at the top of their game. So the fact they somehow manage to keep improving leaves us happily bewildered. When will this band hit the ceiling, potential-wise? And with the release of their third disc, Nothing To Hold On to But a Grudge (Orcaphat), we're left to wonder where the hell the label reps with decent taste continue to hide. Did they all get laid-off after the Seagram takeover? It's gotta take the wind out of a fella's sails to know he's better than most of what college and commercial radio are propping up. Right?

"When I was 20, I wanted to be a rock star; now it's for having fun when I get out of work," says Ricciuti, the trio's chief songwriter. "It's not a big ego thing anymore. We'll play anywhere at any time. [We'll go on] first or second or headline. We'll play for food. It doesn't matter. I used to worry about that shit. The drive is still there. [Now] it's about having fun, not being the Next Big Thing . . . though I'd still like to be it!"

Whether Huck (who celebrate the CD's release this Saturday at the Lucky Dog) end up tagged the Next Big Thing (unlikely) or get to play out their days as Local Cult Heroes (unfortunately), the flash on Grudge is this: not only is it worthy of considerable national, big-deal attention, and not only is it the finest disc released this year, but also we make the case that it may be the finest pop album to ever call Wormtown home. You can argue for roughly a half-dozen other discs; but Ricciuti, after years of fiddling with the idea of trusting it, has finally completely embraced his songwriting for what it is -- good, solid, not-too-popular-but-never-completely-out-of-style pop music. Make that Pop music, because Grudge, like the soap, is 99.44 percent pure Pop. No more post-Nirvana grunge riffs, no mid-career Buffalo Tom send-ups, nor the obtuse lyrical references that littered Huck's first two discs (My Boy Joe and Honeywagon). Those have been dropped in favor of straight-from-the-gut songs that reek of honesty, yet still retain Ricciuti's distinct flair for literate storytelling.

Recorded with Roger Lavallee behind the knobs, Grudge's opening volley is the infectious horn-driven "And Then I'm Thinking," which comes off as a cross between a lost Knickerbockers toe-tapper and a '70s TV theme song. When Ricciuti sings "Given half the chance/I'll tear this whole house down/Right now" and the accompanying trumpet hits a high register trill, you get the distinct feeling that the only thing missing to complete the scene is Mary Richards tossing her hat in the air. Ricciuti faces down his music career on the cheeky "One Hit Wonder" ("I wanna be a one hit wonder/That's all I'm after") and on the more severe "Insert Catchy Phrase Here"; takes on his love life with the understated "Need" and "Malachite"; goes country-punk on "Breakfast"; and nods to the pop-past with a cover of the Hall and Oates tune "Rich Girl," which will be seen as a great idea by mid-'20s clubbers, but stands as the album's only cloying moment. Still, it isn't that bad. It's that the rest of Grudge is so good. By the time you get to the bonus track (a far more clever tune in our opinion), you realize there just isn't any room or need for cutesy filler.

All things considered, the disc is a tremendous achievement. The guitar playing is economic and tasteful; Lucas's drumming has never sounded better, nor is it more evident that he's as responsible for Huck's sound as Ricciuti is. Not at all a backbeat-style player, Lucas is up on the beat with a breezy sureness. Bassist Dave Robinson (since replaced by Paul Dagnello who reports that, "I'm in the left speaker playing tambourine on `Thinking' ") is in the pocket the entire album. Add in the magic of Lavallee (big dollops of nuance, a couple choice guitar solos, a natural ability to squeeze out a band's finer points), and you get a technically beautiful album. Hell, even the packaging is killer. Nothing To Hold On to But a Grudge is like a tropical island in a sea full of shit. You get to take away an unmistakable feeling of satisfaction, and if you're a teensy bit giddy over the whole deal, well, that's the job of good pop music.

"This album captures everything we were thinking; it sounds like what I heard in my mind," explains Ricciuti. "I wanted to write a great pop album . . . and I think it is. `Malachite' is one of the best songs I've ever written because we captured what I heard in my head."

And maybe his head is a little clearer these days. Dagnello has not only managed to fill Robinson's shoes, but also he's added a ballsier dynamic to the band's sound -- they've actually gotten grittier and more polished at the same time. Ricciuti, meanwhile, has figured out that sometimes there's nothing ignoble about writing songs to please yourself instead of to please the potential market. In this case, it's the best move he's ever made.

"I'm not trying to write with the thought that [I'm] trying to sell [the album]. It's more about that little voice and being true to your heart and all that clichéd shit. I would agree it's about growing up."

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