If there's one thing that's certain about 2, the straightforwardly-titled second outing from Duluth's Retribution Gospel Choir, it's this: unlike the bulk of material from frontman Alan Sparhawk's other band Low (his primary project for the past two decades), this record will not be ignored.  For years, Low made its name on its tantalizingly gentle, whispery aesthetic; by contrast, 2's in-your-face, anthemic classic-rock wallop hits you immediately on the record's first track and lead single, "Hide It Away," which may be the most fist-pumping hunk of melodic guitar pop Sparhawk has ever offered up.  You will bow down to its awesome rock awesomeness, and it's gorgeous, mile-wide hook will guarantee that you'll be quite happy all the while you're doing it.

Alan Sparhawk formed Retribution Gospel Choir in the mid-aughts as one of a number of Low side-projects seemingly designed to give him the chance to rock out in precisely the ways his main band assiduously avoided (another being the Zeppelin-y blues vehicle Black Eyed Snakes, in which Sparhawk barked his distorted vocals through a tinny harmonica microphone).  Originally, the RGC lineup included Mark Kozelek (Red House Painters, Sun Kil Moon), whose professed love of Neil Young's chunky, grizzled Crazy Horse guitar sound made him a natural partner in the project.  Kozelek has since left the lineup, but he produced the band's first full length in 2008 -- and while a Sparkawk-Kozelek pairing always seemed like one of the great never-fully-realized dreams of indie rock, Sparhawk's sole leadership just might be exactly what RGC always needed in the first place.  Because even though the pair's shared love of grungy riff and melodic hook is abundantly clear, it's the muscle in Sparhawk's voice that knock these songs over the back wall.

It's actually rather funny to be talking about Alan Sparhawk in terms of vocal muscle and assuredness, since part of the appeal in his early performances with Low was precisely his nonchalant lack of those things.  But having matured into the best kind of capable, compelling rock n' roll singer, Sparhawk now seems to relish that role, and on 2, he and Retribution Gospel Choir build songs around his commanding rock presence and obvious interest in power-pop epiphanies.

After "Hide It Away," 2 wavers a bit from it's spellbinding opener's promise, with some detours into near parody (or perhaps full, willing parody -- it's not entirely clear) of hoary rock tropes in the name of arena-rock ecstasy.  "Workin' Hard" hails from the KISS school of rock rave-ups (it's precedent more "Shout It Out Loud" than "Detroit Rock City," though), while "White Wolf" sounds like the bastard child of Styx and Aldo Nova -- a second-hand interpretation of third-hand rock cliches. But that might be exactly both songs' unapologetic intention.  The balance of the tunes seem to achieve their rawk bona fides without sacrificing any of the hard-won gravitas Sparhawk has built up over the years through Low's earnest, aching songs and tensile, restrained performances.  "Poor Man's Daughter" sounds like it could have been a Low tune, reconfigured with multi-tracked Sparhawk harmonies and Eric Pollard's propulsive drumming.  The epic "Electric Guitar" achieves a twofer: it paints a haunting lyrical landscape but delivers it in cathartic, martial power-chord clothing (and it also comes along at exactly the point one imagines it would be placed in a RGC live set -- right before the encore -- to work the crowd into an air-drumming, lighter-lofting hysteria).  The record's only clear failure is "Something's Gonna Break," a three-minute orgy of noisy nooding who's resolution in its final thirty seconds only makes the preceding experience all the more frustrating, assuming you even stick around to discover it.

2 probably won't rank among the brighter suns in the Sparhawk firmament, such as Low's Long Division or Secret Name, but in the end, that's not a problem; its methods are just different enough that it still achieves its intended ends.  Once upon a time in a galaxy that seems far, far away now, Sparhawk's name was associated with music that seemed closer to ghostly lullabies than rock songs; it's been fascinating to watch his projects evolve from whispery to withering ever since.