There are exciting things happening in popular music these days. The problem is finding out about them.

With the collapse of radio as a connecting source of musical information, it seems that the music itself has gone into hiding, stuffed within its genre-specific cubbyhole, where fans of that specific style can find it, but the broader populace might miss it entirely. Great work is being done, but many an artist ends up preaching to the converted and failing to break into any sort of mainstream where new listeners might be reached.

Strict compartmentalization is not good for popular music, a form wherein cross-pollination of styles is akin to lifeblood. The most exciting stuff happens when musicians with broad tastes pull from many different directions and meet somewhere in the middle, where they ideally mix an interesting new brew out of variegated influences.

Which is why Black Country Communion has made one of the most exciting hard rock albums in many a moon. And which is also why you might not have heard of the band unless you religiously peruse Guitar magazine or UK import glossies like Classic Rock or Mojo.

Black Country Communion’s “2”

—er, their second album—sounds like the work of a thriving new band. Interestingly, it also sounds like a killer classic rock collection, an album you’d have happily played from start to finish while gazing adoringly at the gatefold sleeve, back in 1979.

There’s a multigenerational bent to this blazing amalgam of Free/Led Zeppelin/ Deep Purple/Humble Pie strains, due in no small part to the fact that the group is led by one Glenn Hughes, former bassist and vocalist with the likes of Deep Purple and Black Sabbath, and a man who sings like a randy 25-year-old whose soul is threatening to boil over at any minute. The man providing the other half of the rhythm section is a generation or more younger than Hughes, but his rock pedigree is incontestable: Jason Bonham is the son of late Led Zeppelin drummer John Bonham, and his ability to mine his father’s incalculable influence on every rock drummer who picked up a pair of sticks in his wake is second to none.

The ace in the hole here is in the choice of guitarists. Joe Bonamassa is the youngest member of the band, and already a blues-rock hero as a solo artist in his early 30s. His playing throughout BCC’s “2” is a jaw-dropping assemblage of blues, rock, prog and soul influences, and his soloing is epic in a manner that is only commonly heard on records tracked—you guessed it! — back in the ’70s. Add keyboardist Derek Sherinian—who makes like Deep Purple’s Jon Lord, adding additional heft to the ensemble sounds with his Hammond B3 figures— and you’ve got an outfit that indeed encapsulates the concept of “supergroup” while simultaneously transcending such a tag.

Yes, this stuff sounds “old school” and “classic,” but there is a visceral, contemporary edge to the proceedings that places the glorious ensemble racket firmly in the here and now.

Hughes wrote the majority of the material on BCC’s “2,” and he shines from the first downbeat. The opening wallop of “The Outsider” and “Man In the Middle” lays out the BCC template for all to see — huge, indelible riffs, virtuosic, soul-and blues-drenched vocals, a throbbing, rumbling bass and drums presence, and the sort of soloing that manages to tread the fine line between passion and precision with grace and ease.

There is a Southern soul element apparent in these first two songs — they echo, in a sense, the heaviest rock of rootsy American outfits like the Black Crowes, even if Hughes is about as British as they come. This is largely due to the authenticity of Bonamassa’s blues lineage. But having a drummer with the last name of Bonham gives BCC both great power and the great responsibility that comes with it. So when we hear the distinctly Zeppelin-esque open-tuned acoustic guitars and multitracked electrics that surround “The Battle for Hadrian’s Wall” in a misty mountain ethereality, it makes perfect sense and feels wholly legitimate.

Part of what makes this record feel and sound momentous, and not just like some sort of retro-rock extravaganza, is the fact that there are no duds among the album’s 11 songs. The record flows, moves through various moods and sonic scenarios — helmed with complete mastery by producer Kevin Shirley, who deserves to win a Gram-my for the album’s bass drum sound alone — and is paced with expertise in terms of both harmonic and emotional unfolding. Which means you never get bored, never suffer ear fatigue, and never find yourself skipping certain tracks to get to others more quickly.

There are many gems parsed out in the album’s latter half, among them the killer minor blues behemoth “Little Secret,” which Bonamassa simply chews up and spits out, while Hughes howls like a man accustomed to having a few packs of hellhounds on his trail. By the time the last notes of “Cold” have ceased reverberating, the listener feels as if they’ve gone on a journey with the band, rather than simply witnessed a music industry showcase from some eager hopeful willing to do anything to gain the listener’s love.

It’s not likely that you’ll hear Black Country Communion’s “2” on the radio in our area. There really is no commercial format for this sort of modern hard rock that is neither “alternative modern rock” nor heavy metal. But if you are looking for some heavy music that you might still desire to hear a decade from now, then buy this.

Immediately.

2 [Fontana]

CD Review

Black Country Communion

3 1/2 stars

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