You've already heard of most (if not all) of these bands. Hell, you may have read about them in Newsweek. In the past year, they have increasingly become staples of rock writing in any publication brave enough to touch the subject. The British music press, as usual, seems to have the most blind enthusiasm in endorsing them. The Strokes, The White Stripes, The Hives, The Vines, The Yeah Yeah Yeahs, The Catheters... these are The Next Big Things. These are The Bands That Will Save Rock and Roll. Any such declaration begs two questions at the same time: Does rock and roll need saving? And is this what rock and roll is?

Let's take the second question first. Given the evidence presented in the music press as of late, rock and roll is a heady, abrasive sound, agressive in execution and ancient in structure. Rock and roll is simply four-bar blues cranked up to maximum volume, loaded with swaggering attitude and sweat and grime and — most importantly — spunk. Every one of these records drips with testosterone, whether the vocalist is male or female. Rock and roll seems to be, more than anything, a delirious male sexual ecstacy, a screaming ejaculation, a glorious unloading of pent up sexual tension. In other words, rock and roll is a big swinging dick.

I'm not necessarily making judgements on this analysis. It may, in fact, be very correct. But if these are the big swinging dicks that are going to save our souls, shouldn't we take a long, hard look at how big and swinging they really are? Assuming that rock needs more cock, are these bands really up to the job? After all, size does matter.

I have rated each band on two criteria: "length," or the immediate impressiveness of the sound, and "girth," the true measure of how much meat is actually there. The average for length is 6, and the average for girth is 5.

The Strokes
Julian Casablancas sets the tone for Is This It in the first lines. "Can't you see I'm trying? / I don't even like it." The honest simplicity of this adolescent theme comes up again and again on the record, through numerous tales of failed or sure-to-fail relationships. "Alone we stand / together we fall apart," he tells one anonymous girl, and we believe him. In fact, he makes himself sound like the worst boyfriend in the world — noncomittal, wishy-washy, sex-obsessed. But it takes balls to admit to being that much of a hopeless male. He always scores points for trying, even when he's bound to fail.