BLACK LABEL SOCIETY

Legend has it that JAMES BROWN used to make his new records on tour, pretty much as he came up with the hook for each song. He'd pull the bus over in whatever town the band was driving through, hustle everyone into the nearest studio, hum and point and snap his fingers 'till everyone got the idea, get it on tape, then load back up and head down the road. Listening to his biggest hits now, you can hear that simplistic, very live energy, not much lost in translation from stage to studio, nothing to slow down the long haul to the next gig.

Ladies and gentlemen, another of the "hardest working (who said 'hardest drinking'?) men in show business" — ZAKK WYLDE. In this day and age where tortured artistes sit in the corner for three years between albums, feeling their angst, the burly OZZY OSBOURNE axeman demonstrates a work ethic that's impressive as his mountain-anarchist beard. "Mafia" is the eighth BLS release in under six years, and while that does include a double-live album, the fact remains that this dude just isn't letting up.

The dirty little secret of BLACK LABEL SOCIETY is that sonically, what they're doing isn't reeeeeally that far removed from the rest of the descendents of ALICE IN CHAINS. Don't get me wrong — I'd sooner listen to BLS taking a PBR-fueled morning-after dump in an Ozzfest porta-potty than throw on a GODSMACK or STAIND CD. But it can't be denied that all these bands draw heavily from the same well, and there's more than a little cross-pollination of fanbases and ideas.

What separates BLS is Zakk's metal roots — he's been borrowing his former boss's singing style (and propensity for multi-tracked and treated studio vox) since he first stepped up to the mic. And his guitar playing, for many the main reason the band exists, is never less than ass-kickin'. Plus, let's face it, the man is a character — he's cut from the same cloth as his late and lamented friend Dimebag Darrell, and the hard rock world is in short supply of such larger-than-life road warriors. BLS could cruise for years on Wylde's roughshod charisma alone.

So after all this blather, what's up with "Mafia"? Is it good? Of course it is — the man's got an ear for quality. Do you know pretty much exactly what it sounds like? Yep — he also happens to be a riff factory, and everything on "Mafia" sounds like he coulda cranked it out in his sleep, shortly before waking up on the studio floor, horking up a loogie full of last night's cottonmouth, and cracking the first beer of a new day.

This record reminds me of PRO-PAIN, not soundwise, but in method of attack. There's a formula at work here, and it works, satisfying on a basic level. But stacked up against the mushrooming discography of the band, the formula becomes apparent, and then a little grating — it all starts to run together and seem as cheap and tacky as "Mafia"'s shoddy-looking artwork. It's crowd-pleasing, bone-basic stuff, devoid of surprises, and whether you need it depends on your personal tolerance for more of the same squealy shtick.

All is basically right in the house of BLACK LABEL — Zakk's Ozzy-meets-Layne Staley vocals, the infectious riffs, the singalong verse-chorus-verse workingman's jams tailor-made to go down smooth. "Mafia" may not set the world on fire, or leave much of an aftertaste, but think of it as the audio equivalent of a case of Bud Light. It's dependable, it goes down easy, and it's exactly what you expect. Sometimes that's all you really want.