Emphatic, Catchy, but Humorless

Anarchism and alienation, like vodka, go down best when not served straight. The hemp-hailing Kottonmouth Kings serve their brand of anarchism and alienation quite stoned. They neglect, however, to spike it with a sense of humor, the ingredient that might have turned this suburban white-kids’ rap concoction into a natural high.

“Royal Highness” is fairly listenable before collapsing under the weight of its overstuffed playing time of 73 minutes. Decent hooks, some irresistible bouncing or pounding beats and intermittent wired punk-rock energy help carry the better stuff.

Still, the CD ends up a sour and dispiriting experience because it forces us to keep extended company with a trio of rappers who put everything into sullen attitude and can’t find the wit to skewer targets inventively or the self-mockery to find some humor in their lot.

Rappers Saint Vicious and D-Loc often resort to the slurry-voiced drawl Sly Stone employed on “There’s a Riot Goin’ On,” a depressing but great album that had reason to be stoned and alienated: It was looking at the state of black America in the wake of the King assassination, the ascendancy of Richard M. Nixon and the crumbling of the ‘60s promise for healthy change.

Kottonmouth Kings, which also feature O.C. punk-rock veteran Brad “Daddy X” Xavier as producer and third voice, want to pull off a “Riot” for the suburbs, but it’s a dubious proposition.

The group’s rage and shiftless disdain for society seem real enough. But let’s face it--the stakes in being a “bong tokin’ alcoholic,” who annoys the police and the good burghers of the neighborhood watch by looking disreputable and playing car stereos too loud, don’t amount to much.

That’s where humor could have saved the day. By finding absurdity in their lot as would-be rebels in the sleeping suburbs, Kottonmouth Kings could have stated their critique of O.C.’s fetish for tidy, undisturbed living and rampant work-and-spend materialism, while having some fun with it.

Instead, notwithstanding the unintentionally goofy (and overused) stoned slurring and Beastie Boys’ singsong nursery-rhyme refrains that crop up, they come off as a hip-hop update of ‘60s radical-chic types who think nose-thumbing at “the system” and “society” (yes, the lyrics repeatedly invoke both of those cobwebby buzzwords) is itself enough to make them cool.

Instead of humor, they offer equal amounts of self-pity and self-satisfaction. They rap about needing to dose themselves with booze and weed to blunt the pain that society inflicts on them, or, conversely, boast about how superior they are for spending their days stoned and hanging out instead of sober and at work.

Setting aside serious consideration of content, probably the best way to approach this CD, there’s something to be said for the combination of a bouncy groove and an all-in-a-lather shouting delivery in “Suburban Life” and the catchy, bleary sing-song refrain of “Life Ain’t What It Seems.”

Most of the album’s production is sparse, with a focus on emphatic, sometimes monotonous beats and straightforward, rhythmically uncomplicated tag-team rapping that leans toward rhymes shouted in unison.

The tense lassitude of Public Enemy’s wheezy, dislocated urban street-scene production comes into play on “So High.” Xavier’s punk band, Humble Gods, helps the rappers rip through “Spies,” a hard-core singsong number in the mode of the Adolescents.

Easygoing pop-reggae lightens “Dog’s Life.” The most distinctive and believable tracks are “Big Hoss,” in which a brother’s phone conversation with his imprisoned sibling plays with a sense of believability and tenderness, and “Misunderstood,” a sort of hip-hop update of the folk-blues style that represents rap’s deep roots.

The bottom line is that Kottonmouth Kings are reasonably capable, but not fun or endearing. There’s no merriment in their party-to-rebel stance. The next time they fire one up, maybe they should call Cheech & Chong.

* Kottonmouth Kings and Sprung Monkey play Friday at the Galaxy Concert Theatre, 3503 S. Harbor Blvd., Santa Ana. 8 p.m. $10-$12. (714) 957-0600.

Albums are rated on a scale of one star (poor), two stars (fair), three stars (good) and four stars (excellent).