This Might Hurt

Personnel: Ben Brookland (guitar); Swoogle (bass guitar); Dhani Mansworth (drums).
Audio Mixer: Tony Newton.
Recording information: Devil's Head Studio, Cambridge.
Photographer: Kevin Nixon .
Hard rock may no longer enjoy great demand on the radio dial, and it's far too old to compete with pop and hip-hop for internet supremacy, but it has hardly gone away, either. Instead, the style's demotion from mainstream consciousness has engendered -- nay, necessitated -- the development of a relatively prosperous cottage industry capable of sustaining moderately successful careers (read: day job optional) for select grizzled veterans and stubborn young acolytes alike -- particularly in the U.K. As a result, the late 2000s and early 2010s have produced countless young British bands bent on reviving those `70s and `80s glory years, even though these times wrapped up and wound down well before they were born. And it must be said that the first effort from Cambridge's the Treatment, 2012's This Might Hurt, pursues this goal with boundless enthusiasm and above-average songwriting hooks, if not groundbreaking creativity -- it's not like there's much left to "create" in this field. In doing so, the quintet also reaches for the absolute top of the heap, taking cues from AC/DC and Guns N' Roses for energized head-bangers like "Departed," "Shake the Mountain," and "Road Rocket." Then they swerve into Black Crowes country for swampy blues-rockers "I Fear Nothing" and "Winter Sun" (both of which highlight Matt Jones' soulful pipes), and risk a stab at Thin Lizzy's twin guitar harmonies on "Stone Cold Love." Granted, "reach" is the best they can do, as there's no "Back in Black," "Welcome to the Jungle," or even "Jealous Again" to be found here, but come on -- what did you expect? Carrying on with the by now familiar script, "Just Tell Me Why" and the rather clever "Nothing to Lose but Our Minds" efficiently check off the little boxes labeled "power ballad" and "anthemic concert singalong," respectively, and while some could see the self-explanatory "Drink, F**ck, Fight" as detrimental to the Treatment's otherwise earnest, self-respecting approach, perhaps they should just let the boys have their fun too, alright? After all, they're just relating to their peers here, and old-timers should feel gratified enough over simply having a few young `uns out there who are willing to keep this archaic music alive a little while longer. Contrary to its title, the Treatment's debut only hurts a little, and the post-check-up health benefits are surely well worth a little pin prick from that scary looking nurse on the cover. ~ Eduardo Rivadavia