Pitchfork

Earlimart's second full-length for Devil in the Woods Records, Kingdom of Champions, grows on you at a rate that would make the Andromeda strain proud. Each time I listened, my tentative rating for it jumped at least a point, to wind up at a respectable, if not outstanding 6.8. Which is fairly impressive for a band that plays some of the most straightforward, guileless music west of the San Andreas Fault. Initially, I vainly sought some higher meaning or nobler purpose in the band's music. But the joke was on me; there's only one level to Kingdom of Champions: a visceral level. So light your smoke, drink your beer, lower your expectations, and enjoy the music.

Frontman Aaron Espinoza channels Social Distortion's Mike Ness fairly effectively (sans the poor-man's Rob Halford faux-biker chic image) throughout half the disc. Side-stepping harmonies work surprisingly well in place of sneered ones, and the shouted backup vocal adds... well, shouting. The songs are also very mildly dissonant, but in measured, tried-and-true ways.

Aside from the early Social Distortion feel, though, a lot of the ubiquitous post-punk influences pop up blatantly, in that nose-on-your-face kind of way: Hüsker Dü, Wire, Buzzcocks, the Fall and the Pixies. About the only thing you couldn't see coming is the bass intro terrifyingly similar to Circle Jerks' "15 Minutes" that makes an appearance on "Eileen." Dismiss that as coincidence, I suppose.

Kingdom of Champions' highlight comes at the halfway mark in a triumvirate of blessed, fortunate songs. The droning "Dead on the Dancefloor," which feels like a more agreeable "Levitate Me," declares "Backwards she bent/ And now she's dead/ She got what she asked for/ She's dead on the dancefloor/ She cut a rug." While far from revelatory, the lyrics affect through a seditious whispered delivery. The balladry of the title track follows with a casual and effortless grace that drifts from your consciousness almost before you realized it was there, like a wisp of hickory campfire smoke. "A.M. Countdown" recalls something borne out of the same Southern Gothic sensibility that sustained bands like Pylon and the young REM for so many years. Also in strong contention is the penultimate "I Can't Take This," which nods ever so slightly to their more rootsy debut, Filthy Doorways, with rollicking verses set against its angrier, malevolent chorus.

Oddly, Earlimart chose to end Kingdom of Champions anti-climactically, with a recorded drunk rant that clocks in at nearly 5\xBD wasted minutes. It seems little more than an in-joke committed to plastic, and baffles with every listen. I mean, far be it from me, whose bands have never made it to the point of walking through the doors of a recording studio, to cast stones at others. Still, my mama told me not to waste food because other people in the world are starving. And this track stands out as one of the few poor decisions here. Even weaker songs like "Cabin Fever" and "Tuxedos" don't bomb as much as lurk in boring anonymity.

On this record, Earlimart abandons the country-folk leanings of their debut full-length in favor of executing some fairly accomplished, pop-informed post-punk. But they're not the second coming of your favorite defunct band, as their influences might suggest. (Would you really want that, anyway?) Rather, Kingdom of Champions has the feel of a local band made good. Every mid-sized, Midwestern, middle-income college town has a dozen bands just like Earlimart. You buy their records, go to their shows, and hang out with the members. And you root them on, hoping they manage to make the jump into the minor leagues where they can begin to get the recognition they deserve. And if nothing else, Earlimart is one band that's worth rooting for.