Soul? Not in the traditional sense; sonically, Collective Soul are the whitest band this side of Skynrd, by way of Boston.| But on the second night of a two-night stand at New York's Bowery Ballroom, the Georgia band proved that what they may lack in soul, they more than make up for in heart -- and a whole lotta love for the big guitar crunch of classic rock.

Over the course of five years and four albums, Collective Soul have established themselves as supreme hitmakers. But as much as it helps to have a healthy stock of solid tunes to pull from, Collective Soul's real strength is showmanship. The band attacked the mid-sized club like monsters of rock in full command of Madison Square Garden. As the five band members walked on stage, a bank of blinding lights lanced out over their heads and into the audience. "The hour has begun/Your eyes have now been opened," sang Ed Roland over the triple-guitar opening wash of "Tremble For My Beloved," the first cut on their latest, Dosage. The glaring white lights made it hard to keep those eyes open, but as Roland led the band into the twin radio/MTV mainstays "Smashing Young Man" and "December," it was clear that the terrain from here on out would be familiar enough for the blind to navigate.

As the principle songwriter and sonic architect of Collective Soul (having produced all four albums), Roland possesses a savvy knack for solid, hook-heavy songcraft that recalls Foreigner mastermind Mick Jones. Too polished for grunge despite the insistent riffage, too sensitive and heart-on-the-sleeve for the irony-heavy field of alt-rock, Roland shoots straight down the middle of mainstream rock. That's nothing spectacular in its own right, but Roland pulls it off with improbable panache. Songs like "Gel," "Simple," "Run," "Where the River Flows," "Shine" and the grand ballad "World I Know" won't ever change the world or even throw a wrench in the cogs, but they sound great on the radio -- and even better live.

The band does have a tendency to return to the same book of riffs with alarming frequency, but it comes across as consistent rather than lazy. Not unlike, say, an AC/DC concert, every song Collective Soul hammered out was immediately recognizable, even if it sometimes took until the chorus to tell exactly what song you were recognizing. As a result, every song packed a heady rush of "the big hit," with the sole exception being the new, somewhat aimless "No More, No Less." "We think this is gonna be the next single," announced a hopeful Roland before the number. The song failed to impress on this outing, but if the band's track record repeats itself, the next time Collective Soul rolls around, "No More" will fit right in and sound like more of the same. With this band, that's a complement.

RICHARD SKANSE(April 5, 1999)