I really don't want to call The Means garage rock. Countless music fans (myself included) have developed a painful kneejerk reaction to the term since its co-option by prissy NYC/London major label acts over the last couple of years, and it's really no surprise -- the legions of NME-backed hacks have taken garage rock out of the garage and into the posh studio, rendering the genre name all but meaningless. However, The Means are a garage rock band in the pre-baggage, pre-MTV2, pre-Strokes sense, and they're quite a good one at that.

On their second album, The Means further their exploration of what it takes to compose the perfect punk rock shakedown, the grimiest blues riff and the filthiest melody, paying homage to the works of John Reis (Drive Like Jehu, Hot Snakes, Rocket from the Crypt, Sultans), Ian Svenonius (The Nation of Ulysses, Make-Up), Shelby Cinca (Frodus, Decahedron) and Kurt Cobain, while injecting a Zeppelinesque bombast into their reinterpretation of the '90s dirt rock canon. This is rock and roll that you can believe in, rock and roll that indulges itself in wanton thrashing without becoming so self-absorbed that it's no longer entertaining.

Snarling examples of gleeful destruction abound, channeled into honest-to-goodness song. On "Cheap Whine", The Means plow through an unrelenting Nirvana chord progression, matching Bleach's balance of dirtiness and catchiness. The vocalist goes berserk during the brief, writhing "Campaign Blvd.", and a quasi-Eastern guitar lead echoes the vocal, creating a mesmerizing grind similar to Yank Crime's more adventurous tangents. "Blondes Behaving Badly" overcomes its title's token bad boy chic and delivers the goods via classic rock swagger and a slightly scrubbed-up vocal approach; it's the one instance where The Means compete with The Hives et al at their own game, and the results are thoroughly rocking and wholly legit. Best of all is "Australians", an infectious riff rocker that gives way to an onslaught of skree in its final moments.

The rest of the album is a mixed bag. Almost all of the tracks are well-written and passionately played, but a number of them ("Alright That Down" comes to mind) sound too much like stuff that other bands have already done. The Means have enough moxie to keep their derivative moments from being unlistenable, so it's disappointing to hear them rehashing other bands' material when they've proven capable of writing songs like "Australians". Speaking of "Australians", there's an unnecessary acoustic version of the song smack dab in the middle of the album. This track, along with the piano ballad "Honey Bayonet" and the minute or so of utter nonsense in "Charlize Theron, <3 <3 <3 (Blast Majesty)", breaks the album's flow and detracts from the overall experience. These are daring risks to take, but they don't work alongside the rest of the material.

The Divine Right of Means ultimately lands beyond being A Face in the Crowd, but doesn't quite reach the level of Really Being On To Something. Still, if you're willing to bear with their growing pains, The Means will reward you with some refreshing r-a-w-k.