Don’t Take The Red Pill

Sweden-based Blues Pills’ self-titled debut album is filled with an homage to the large and intense sounds of the late 1960s’ rock offerings, marking a stark contrast to the pop-rock and Top 40 hits that Sweden typically exports.

Lead singer Elin Larsson’s vocals evoke the wail of Janis Joplin while the rest of the band tap into the intricacies of Jimi Hendrix and Grand Funk Railroad. In some ways, listening to the Blues Pills is like being transported back to the era of the Vietnam War. In other ways it’s 1990 and the Black Crowes are once again in reign over the rock scene in the run-up to the atom bomb of Cobain and crew.

Even the album cover taps into the reminiscent vibe, featuring the flowery psychedelia of Milton Glaser that ad agencies peppered across the landscape 45 years ago. The purple, bare-chested vixen poses nonchalantly while the sun and moon flank her from each side, balancing her out in an acid-laden motif.

Album opener “High Class Woman” features the earth-shattering guitar riffs of Dorian Sorriaux and the noisy bass of Zach Anderson, supported with the rolling pensiveness of drummer Cory Berry.

“Devil Man” spits out some sweaty melodies through a grime of vintage-sounding amps that speak to the times when smokey blues bars made it fun to listen to bands even though it was virtually impossible to breathe.

Blues Pills taps into a natural, raw energy that often escapes even the most earnest rock bands in the laptop-music era, bringing a deep, human connection to the album. The group is clearly on a trajectory toward solidifying itself as a true force of blues rock in the 2010s.

But before they get to that point, the members of Blues Pills need to transcend the style and kick in more substance. The musicianship and vocal chops on display are enviable, no doubt. The artistry is sound. However, the songs need a little something to make them more memorable. More hooks or catchier melodies could give the sonic palette a color that mirrors the album cover, and more faithfully evokes the blistering power and charm of the traditional marriage of blues and rock.