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CD review: The Aggrolites
By Michael Hargrave
mhargra1@mscd.edu

The Aggrolites Self Titled Album (Hellcat Records, 2006)

The Aggrolites sing about poverty in and out of their band, but homage to the near-extinct sound of rocksteady is paid up front.

California-bred reggae and ska music is usually favored by the likes of college frat boys, trustifarians and suburban stoners. The Aggrolites, however, play with complete disregard for such demographics. The tunes sound more like the inside of a smoky British pub full of rowdy drunks than the inside of a smoky modern dorm room full of 20-something slackers.

The band records in a manner that makes them sound as if they are being played out of grandpa’s dusty old radio. One technique in achieving this sound is the use of old microphones in the recording process. This can be heard prominently in “Someday,” in which scratchy lead vocals and long-winded choruses evenly distribute feelings of nostalgia.

Songs such as “Countryman Fiddle” express the band’s disdain for folk and country music. It tells of a man who bought his son a fiddle in hopes of fathering a country musician. The defiant youth refuses and instead professes his love for reggae. “We don’t need no country man’s fiddle, we need a real cool sound,” lead singer Jesse Wagner and his ensemble of rudeboys sing.

Peeking at the back of the album case, one is greeted by an image of five very pissed-off-looking young men, one of whom brandishes a baseball bat. Never judge an album by its artwork. Expectations of violent punk and metal are contradicted by chord progressions giddy enough to induce laughter and dancing from a child. One such example of uplifting melodies can be found in “Mr. Misery,” a mirthful track filled with sing-along choruses and jumpy organ lines.

If there is any instance of aggression on the album, it can be heard on “Time to Get Tough.” But the track isn’t so much about kicking others’ asses, as much as it is about empowerment and self-reliance.

“Giddy up, giddy up, off of that high horse,” exclaims Wagner as the band belts out traditional reggae music. Slow upstrokes on the guitar, simple bouncy bass lines, solid drumbeats and archaic organ are friendly reminders of what ska music sounded like in times void of dreadlocked white folk.