The Hellacopters are asking for it. Here they are in 2006, still playing the same hooky, unabashedly retro sound they perfected with 1999′s Grande Rock. Face it, these Nordic hell-raisers’ approach hasn’t aged a day since 1972, let alone that nearly decade-old record: take two parts Cheap Trick, one part MC5 and one part KISS, stir it together with a neo-garage rocker’s sense of reverence, then airlift the whole damned concoction to the frosty North, and you have the Hellacopters. It’s a formula – tested, proven and replicated many times over. And still they have the audacity to name their sixth and latest album Rock & Roll is Dead…like it’s some kind of news or something. Didn’t they know garage rock was over by the Strokes’ second album? Haven’t they even heard of indie folk or disco-punk? Look, dudes, we don’t know how you do things up in “Scandinavia”, but down here, rock and roll doesn’t need saving. We’ve got a little thing called the Montreal scene, and it’s treating us just fine, thank you very much.

Except the Hellacopters aren’t really trying to save rock and roll…and maybe that’s the problem. Rock & Roll is Dead, from the title on down, is a post-mortem, preservationist exercize; a celebration of everything that was great about the Hellacopters’ various influences. It’s like traditionalist folk music: a little dour, a dash self-important, and occasionally even fun (in a timid sort of way). A noble effort, to be sure – but where’s the fire? I can’t imagine Blind Willie Johnson sounding anywhere near as lame as the average choirboy revivalist on the folk festival circuit; and while the Hellacopters’ new record is rarely “lame,” I can’t exactly imagine classic-era Mick Jagger, Rick Nielsen or Fred “Sonic” Smith sounding this uninspired, either.

But let’s give credit where it’s due: opener “Before the Fall” delivers the goods, even if its copped Chuck Berry riff and nonsense lyrics deliberately evoke a mood of rock nostalgia. What follows, however, is a mixed bag. “Everything’s on T.V.” achieves the dubious goal of being the second of two songs about the pitfalls of mass entertainment in the last six months, although to their credit the Hellacopters had this one in the bag before OK Go’s “Television, Television”. Still, does the world really need one protest song about the boob tube, let alone two? Next, “Monkeyboy” digs even deeper into the cliche pile, revisiting the old “monkey on my back” colloquialism with an added dose of corny slapstick. So what if both of these off-tracks come wrapped in finely-crafted power pop sheepskins? They’re still weak, and no amount of rose-tinted studio sheen can disguise it.

Granted, the Hellacopters pick up the pace soon enough. “Time Got No Time to Wait for Me” is a genuine air-guitar anthem, perfect for closing the album, while “Bring It on Home” evokes Zeppelin in title and punk in execution. But for every impeccably-performed moment that works, there’s another (equally impeccable) one that just falls on its face; like “Leave It Alone”, a too-clean attempt at Exile on Main St.‘s Anglo gospel, or “I’m in the Band”, which sounds like that song the kids played in School of Rock…except with lyrics that smack of the egotistical rock-star solipsism we all thought alternative rock had taken care of.

Look, anyone who’s read my reviews on Blogcritics or Pea Pod should know by now that I haven’t the slightest beef with “retro rock”. Hell, most of my favorite current bands could be and have been described as such. I just love rock and roll; I think it’s the greatest music in the history of the universe, more pure and real and exhilirating and powerful than the combined outputs of every classical composer you could list. And I stand by that. But it’s all about execution. Some bands make vibrant music that sounds old but feels new; some just dig out the same tired old riffs and hope nobody’s paying attention. Some bands create music which rests comfortably beside their influences; some just sound good while the CD is playing. Groups like the Sights and the Hard Lessons from here in lower Michigan, or the Hives and the Flaming Sideburns from the Hellacopters’ native Sweden, pull off the “retro rock” label; they transcend it and they do it well. The Hellacopters used to do that, too. But today? Let’s just say it sounds good while it’s playing.

Reviewed by Zach Hoskins