All-American Reflect: Obits are a little bit Brooklyn and a little bit rock ?n? roll.

Listening to Obits will make you feel more American. I Blame You, the Brooklyn-based quartet’s debut LP, won’t inspire you to join the National Guard, pay your taxes, or buy a GM—that’s Alan Jackson’s job. But Obits is a good rock ’n’ roll band, and the Creedence Clearwater Revival-on-punk-rock-steroids feel of I Blame You will make you feel gritty and rebellious. All of the necessary ingredients are present and accounted for—boogie bass lines, chattering rockabilly rhythms, and squealing guitars. “Pine On,” with its muddy, piston-driven garage rock, sounds as American as a tidal wave of cold Budweiser slamming into Mt. Rushmore. That sort of thing shouldn’t really be possible for Obits, because they’re from Brooklyn, home of the blog band and Grizzly Bear. There’s nothing contrived about I Blame You, though. The individual members have been playing in bands long enough that if they’re ripping off anyone, it’s probably their own discographies. Guitarist/vocalist Rick Froberg played in San Diego’s Hot Snakes and Drive Like Jehu. Guitarist Sohrab Habibion and drummer Scott Gursky played in D.C.’s Edsel and Shortstack, respectively. The souped-up rockabilly that flavored Hot Snakes is particularly present here, but where Froberg’s old bands capitalized on manic intensity, Obits is all about space. Filling that space is Froberg’s voice, which was one of the best rock voices of the ’90s. On “Light Sweet Crude” his sandpapery larynx makes him sound like the cranky stepson of Iggy Pop and John Fogerty. Not that he’s limited to hollering—he pulls off sing-along girl-pop just fine on album closer “Back and Forth.” “Fake Kinkade” finds Froberg, who is also a visual artist and designed the I Blame You cover, singing about painter Thomas Kinkade—the QVC mainstay who sells mass-produced prints of his works, enhanced by the brush strokes of “skilled craftsmen” to look like real paintings. “I’ve seen this world without disruption/Everything so peaceable and bright,” sings Froberg, describing Kinkade’s syrupy, bucolic vision of the United States, a perspective that’s probably the diametric opposite of his band’s aesthetic. On I Blame You, Obits’ take on Americana is far darker, and, unlike Kinkade, Obits doesn’t have to fake anything to make its product appear legit.