There was a time, during the late eighties, when hard rock had become a make-up strewn, pale imitation of itself. Bands like Guns ‘n’ Roses led a revolution that saw punk attitude utilised to put the guts back into the genre only for grunge to come along and reset the stage. As with any decline in commercial fortunes, there was a tendency to revisionism, with fans, magazines and labels quickly disassociating themselves from what had gone before in their hurry to embrace the latest fad, and, in doing so, a crucial element of the hard rock scene was overlooked – it was fun! Trends come and go, of course, but great music (and the sense of exhilaration that comes from hearing artists whose sole motivation is an unflinching passion for playing) lasts, and, in recent years, a number of bands have returned to the booze-soaked, hedonistic world of hard rock. As a case in point we have English band The Treatment. Formed in 2008, the band has seen members come and go and released two well-received albums to date (2011’s ‘this might hurt’ and 2014’s ‘running with dogs), but it’s ‘Generation me’ that may well see these denim-clad, die hard rock ‘n’ rollers finally hit pay dirt. A furious reassertion of the blazing power of hedonistic, good-time rock, ‘Generation me’ is the hard rock album the band have always promised to make and from the very first grinding riff, it’s clear that The Treatment mean business.
The album opens with instant anthem ‘Let it begin’ with its chorus of “you can’t stop this runaway train” acting as both a promise and a threat. Vocalist Mitchel Emms (who joined last year) turns in a tightly honed performance with plenty of grit whilst Tagore Grey and new comer Tao Grey trade licks like it’s going out of fashion. It’s a brilliant opener for both album and live set and there’s no doubting the band’s convictions as they lay waste to everything in their path. Next up is a track that presumably references the band’s spiritual father entitled ‘the devil’. With its minor key opening riff and throbbing bass, it packs a dark and sinister punch that sounds like AC/DC filtered through a Motley Crue lens and with a hint of Alice Copper pantomime thrown in for good measure. The band take things up a notch with the full-throttle blast of ‘tell us the truth’, Dhani Mansworth’s drums threatening to undermine the very foundations of the building as they pound out of the speakers. The title track is no less meaty and there’s a strong road-rock vibe driving the song forward as the band lay down a series of suitably greasy riffs. In contrast, ‘Backseat Heartbeat’ has a strong acoustic vibe that sees the band crafting the sort of anthemic power ballad that would have stormed the charts in the golden days of hard rock. Like Bon Jovi without the artifice, ‘Backseat Heartbeat’ is a genuine mix of hard rock attitude and pop sensibility that satisfies on every level.
‘Cry tough’ kicks off the second half of the record with a ferocious riff that draws on that AC/DC vibe, Mitchel singing directly to doomed youth over a track that rocks like a hurricane. ‘We are beautiful’ is pure rock heaven with a lyrical conceit that recalls the Manic Street Preachers’ ‘you love us’ without the bitter irony. With some sweet harmonies on the chorus, ‘we are beautiful’ is an album highlight and a definite candidate for live bombshell. ‘I know she knows’ is a paired back rock monster so horny it should carry a health warning, with the band strutting through the song in eye-wateringly tight trousers and threatening to deflower every daughter in the place on their way. With a more classic rock vibe, ‘Bloodsucker’ has a bluesy flavour that is irresistible, whilst ‘better think again’ is an unstoppable brew of heavy beats, staccato riffs and attitude that sounds like a modern take on ‘I love rock ‘n’ roll’. The album concludes (already???) with the fast paced blast of energy that is ‘light the sun’, a song that takes sweet harmonies and just a touch of nostalgia to end the album on a resolute high.
‘Generation me’ is pure, good time rock ‘n’ roll for a generation that seems to take itself far too seriously. Where, in the eighties, rock stars were gods that walked the earth, now it’s more common to read about the rigours of touring and the misery of life on the road, the endless jabbering of social networks demystifying the music world to a horrifying degree. The Treatment redress that balance, and, having absorbed myriad influences from across the years, are hell bent on making rock ‘n’ roll an immersive, escapist experience once more. Not afraid to be rock stars, The Treatment sing about the unstoppable power of rock and threaten to overdose the listener with their rampaging hormones… lock up your daughters: rock just got dangerous again.
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