Retribution Gospel Choir, 2

It took me until a full minute into “Workin’ Hard” to get it. I’d been enjoying 2, the aptly-titled second album from Retribution Gospel Choir, definitely, right from the first ringing chords of “Hide It Away,” but I didn’t really get it. When the choppy, almost Van Halen-esque guitars came in, though, followed by the blue-collar, shout-along chorus, it finally hit me: this, right here, is frontman Alan Sparhawk’s classic rock band.

And hey, I can’t blame the guy — playing for so long in minimalist, low-key indie-rock outfit Low, Sparhawk’s bound to need an outlet for loud, raggedy-edged guitars, belted-out vocals, and thundering drums, which 2 has in spades. Where Low is all about restraint, on 2, at least, Retribution Gospel Choir is about full-on bombast and rocking the hell out; it’s a bareknuckled punch of an album, where even the lighter, more upbeat tracks could probably still beat you down if they had to.

All of which is a good thing from where I sit, especially given how well Sparhawk and cohorts Steve Garrington (also of Low) and Eric Pollard pull it off. The two aforementioned tracks are the album’s highlights, to be sure — “Workin’ Hard” is packed full of honest, down-to-earth swagger and may well be the single best classic rock track I’ve heard since I was a kid listening to KLBJ on nights when the clouds were low and I could pick up the signal on my car’s crappy stereo, while “Hide It Away,” with its insistent, military-sounding rhythm, roaring guitars, and pleading/soaring, almost Band of Horses-esque vocals, is definitely the closest I’ve ever heard Sparhawk come to a genuinely, defiantly uplifting song. The latter is one hell of a milestone, all by itself.

Most of the other tracks on here fall somewhere in-between. There’s “Your Bird,” with a sinister, stutter-stepping beat and bitter lyrics about how “You want to sing your little song” (which makes me think of Arcwelder’s kissoff to Nirvana, “Remember to Forget”), and there’s “Poor Man’s Daughter,” the stark, spread-wide-open noise of which sounds like either Joel R. Phelps or Arbouretum covering Neil Young, I’m not sure which, and then, further on, there’s “Soemthing’s Got to Break,” where Sparhawk spends the bulk of the song singing through what sounds like a transistor radio, ’til all three band members come collapsing in near the end and it all turns into a Queen song minus Freddy Mercury.

Things head downhill after the halfway mark, unfortunately — “White Wolf” and “Electric Guitar” are both middling, particularly after the other stuff on here — but are redeemed somewhat by closing track “Bless Us All,” where Sparhawk and company ride an unrelenting, heartbeat-like rhythm throughout, using a sparse, hypnotic melody to meditate on, well, I can’t tell what the hell they’re meditating on. Religion? The death of a relationship?

Sounds like it could be either, but the end effect is like a somber prayer meeting where all eyes are downcast as everybody sings along. The hardworking rock band’s packed up and left the building, leaving the choir itself behind, at least ’til next time.