Be Brave

This lovably ragged Texas combo staggers through these tracks like pub crawlers teetering on the edge of blackout. At first blush, Be Brave comes across as yet another excursion into ‘60s garage-rock revivalism. Several numbers — especially the bluesy title tune and the twanging, tempo-shifting “Night Might” — suggest early Stones or Them. But more often, the album leans towards twisted versions of honky-tonk country (“Between Us,” “You Can’t Only Love When You Want To”) and acoustic folk (“Dare I Say,” “Da Da”), keeping the focus on Ryan Sambol’s strangled warbling. “A Walk On the Beach” and “Friday In Paris” manage to goose up the energy level a notch. Beneath the messy surfaces of these tunes is a stubborn integrity, with nothing slick added to ruin the music’s creaky appeal. Though Sambol’s lyrics are often lost in his slurred delivery, a punch-drunk romanticism emerges in songs like “Laugh At Sex, Not Her” and “All You Can Hide Inside.” In its own shambolic fashion, Be Brave is an inspired effort, loaded with slack-jawed charm.