Straight outta Columbus, Ohio, Gaunt spent the first half of the 1990s playing the same sort of monochromatic punk rock that seemed to be the primordial sonic sludge that spawned a million other bands. Their early releases were crafted solely from spitfire energy, but more recent albums found them slowly evolving some songwriting legs; 1995's Kryptonite had enough well- earned punk- pop thrills to be clear- cut evidence of Gaunt's crossover potential. Bricks and Blackouts, their major label debut, aims for a breakthrough- album sound with its radio- friendly melodies and irrepressible enthusiasm, but it falls just short of being a definite winner.

Gaunt makes it clear from the start that they haven't lost their step; Bricks and Blackouts opens with a bubbly squeal of feedback, just prior to tearing into the three- chord caffeine- jitter frenzy of "Anxiety." Likewise, longtime fans who may be put off by Gaunt's move to a major label shouldn't be disappointed with kicked- out jams like "Glitter," "Far Away," and "Duh," a fuzzbomb that's a stylistic nod to Gaunt's old drinking buddies, the New Bomb Turks. However, Gaunt's newly- developed pop powers still need some work; their best efforts tend to resemble Superchunk B-sides ("97th Tear") or, oddly enough, Ned's Atomic Dustbin ("Mixed Metals" and "Pop Song"). It's catchy, to be sure, but not terribly distinctive.

Gaunt's hook- writing prowess bodes well for them in the future, but the Achilles' heel of Bricks and Blackouts is the inconsistent songwriting; a great bridge or chorus doesn't always make up for an otherwise mediocre song. There's enough indication that Gaunt still has a good shot at alt- rock stardom, though.

-Nick Mirov