A Healthy Dose of Skepticism for Cracker

Marxist philosophy dominated the ‘80s school of college-alternative rock--Marxist as in Groucho saying he wouldn’t want to belong to any club that would have him as a member.

David Lowery graduated summa cum laude from that school as front man and chief songwriter of Camper Van Beethoven, one of the half-dozen or so most worthwhile bands in the ‘80s underground rock scene.

But four years ago, having abandoned Camper’s prescient genre-hopping style (which incorporated punk; elaborate kitchen-sink psychedelia; Appalachian folk ballads, and sprightly Balkan beats), Lowery unexpectedly found himself in the rock ‘n’ roll winner’s circle as leader of Cracker.

With guitarist Johnny Hickman, an old high-school buddy from Redlands, as the other indispensable cog in a changeable lineup, the band built a large cult following in 1992-93 with an album and an EP that featured straight-ahead, country-tinged rock ‘n’ roll colored by Lowery’s offbeat, lyrical sensibility.

Its next release, “Kerosene,” improbably sold a million copies. In keeping with Marxist philosophy, Cracker promptly fled the club with “The Golden Age,” a more introspective, more ornate, less crustily funny work than its predecessors.

Cracker had its fling touring in amphitheaters with the success of “Kerosene Hat” but gave up its membership in that club and is back in more humble clubs--such as the Coach House, where it headlined Monday.

Lowery, Hickman, bassist Bob Rupe and two hired hands on drums and keyboards didn’t seem displeased returning to a venue Cracker had played a couple of times before its platinum fling.

The 95-minute set, played to about 300 fans, exemplified how rock ‘n’ roll can best be used not as a vehicle for star trips, but as a reliable folk remedy for getting stuff off one’s chest and out of one’s system and feeling at least temporary relief.

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The good medicine flowed from the start with two rockers from Cracker’s new album, “Gentleman’s Blues.”

“Been Around the World” and “Seven Days” rumbled and grooved in the way that only good, unpretentious, Stones-related rock ‘n’ roll can.

Other styles cropped, including a couple of fun country twangers led by Hickman, but the essence of the show was pounding out hard-charging music that was tough but never sour.

A spirit of fun, or at least release, colored a set that included six songs from “Gentleman’s Blues” and a smattering from three other albums and an EP.

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Lowery has tousled blond hair and a craggy long face that might make one mistake him for a rocking cousin to Lyle Lovett. As does Lovett, he has a skewed outlook that lets him carve some individual space for himself out of familiar styles.

His distinctive leathery rasp has a note of wise-guy mischief in it. That enabled Lowery to register a sort of disgusted amusement in songs such as “The Good Life,” a wry look at the underwhelming realities of the supposed rock ‘n’ roll caravan of fun and glamour.

“Down miles of empty road, with acolytes in tow, you could be Persephone,” Lowery sang. His invocation of the Greek goddess, who spends half her time in the shadows of hell, put his own skewed spin on a charging, meat-and-potatoes Tom Petty-ish rocker.

The ballad “Big Dipper,” the most memorable song on “The Golden Age,” took a more somber, straightforwardly lamenting stance. It evoked the elusive true romance Lowery seeks, only to have his chances squelched as he pursues the more questionable romance of the rocker’s life.

With Hickman playing fluent, varied leads that called to mind Mick Taylor or some of Joe Ely’s always-capable lead-guitar sidekicks, Cracker nailed the rockers.

Songs such as the oom-pah-pah waltz “I Want Out of the Circus” and a polka that Lowery sang in Czechoslovakian (or so he said) helped vary the pacing, but the rockers were the gist. Among them were a cover of Status Quo’s “Pictures of Matchstick Men” (a song that Camper Van Beethoven also played) and two of Cracker’s best-known numbers, “Teen Angst (What the World Needs Now)” and “Low.”

Cracker struck a healthy balance by casting a skeptical eye on rock’s glamour while embodying the music’s power to get those ya-ya’s out.

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Everything--that’s the name of the opening band from Virginia--played light, tight, funky rock that might find favor with fans of the Dave Matthews Band and other H.O.R.D.E.-festival associated acts. “Hooch” was an appealing party anthem, but Everything--and we mean everything--was too polished to make the band much more than a less-interesting heir to the Doobie Brothers.