While Oasis dream their Beatles dreams, the young British upstarts in Gomez envision the Mississippi Delta, dusty roads and American rock & roll circa 1971.| Ten years ago this might have been hopelessly, cluelessly retro, but today, when new skool hip-hop rules and Britpop and alternative flounder, the time may be right for a band whose members not only recall Canned Heat but probably own the boxed set.

Beginning its North American tour at a smallish, sold-out Vancouver club, the quintet showed why its bluesy, classic rock-sounding debut, Bring It On, has created a buzz on both sides of the Atlantic. Relying on its three vocalists, as many guitars, bass and drums, Gomez created drama out of the dynamics between Ian Ball's and Tom Gray's unhurried acoustic riffs, Paul Blackburn's and Olly Peacock's midtempo rhythms and Ben Ottewell's arena-size, Eddie Vedder-meets-Dr. John voice. The band plumbed hidden corners of the blues in tunes like the high lonesome "Make No Sound" and the squishy "78 Stone Wobble," while concentrating on a groove that brought out the dancing Deadheads for songs like the soaring "Here Comes the Breeze" and the infectious, good-natured "Get Myself Arrested."

The groove was definitely the star of the show. But, though not Cirque de Soleil by any means, Gomez do offer a focal point in the owlish Ottewell. With his overfed-at-prep-school looks, he could be an escapee from the Barenaked Ladies, an appearance at odds with his room-shaking vocals.

It's that very dichotomy -- the privileged complexion belied by the gravel road voice -- that makes Ottewell the embodiment of the conflict in Gomez' defiantly bluesy music. And no song more perfectly encapsulated the band than its set-ending "Tijuana Lady." The track's gentle acoustic riff and wistful chorus could have come off of The Basement Tapes or Every Picture Tells a Story, while the yearning sentiment of the words firmly personified the dreams lurking in the Northern souls of the Gomez boys (all are in their early twenties).

By dispensing with the gloss, power-chords and arena-sized hooks of Britpop and concentrating on a stonier groove, Gomez offer an alternative for those too old for Korn but too hip for the Black Crowes. And while Bring It On's tracks pumped up the crowd -- a shoulder-to-shoulder mix of hipsters, music industry types and fans -- a handful of new tunes, from the band's recently-recorded, yet-to-be-released and tentatively-titled follow-up God's Big Spaceship proved Gomez may be more than the next Spin Doctors. Two drinkalong anthems in particular, the barroom buzz of "Fill My Cup" and the Mideast-inflected "Hangover," equaled if not surpassed the quality of the easy-flowing material of their debut. The raucous, rollicking encore of the Talking Heads' gospel ditty "Road to Nowhere" proved Gomez's rock & roll heart doesn't stop beating at the Seventies.

Gomez' fellow Brits in opening sextet Mojave 3 also walk a decidedly retro path; lead vocalist and songwriter Neil Halstead seems to still be dazed and confused from the shock of hearing Blonde on Blonde for the first time. Nearly half the songs in the band's set -- which mixed material from its debut, Ask Me Tomorrow, as well as its latest, Out of Tune -- sounded inspired by a line or melody off that landmark Dylan album.

That said, the band's glimmering folk-pop shimmered far more strongly live than on disc. Augmented by a pedal steel and Hammond organ, Halstead's acoustic strum and the effortless harmonies of his and bassist Rachel Goswell's vocals came wrapped in a lush, symphonic grandeur only hinted at on Out of Tune. "Who Do You Love" and "Some Kinda Angel," both from Out of Tune, were obviousstandouts, mixing the evocative, languid dreampop of Halstead and Goswell's former band Slowdive with classic Sixties songwriting values for blissed-out pop reveries. Like headliner Gomez, Mojave 3 are able to re-imagine their American obsessions into something both reassuringly familiar and quietly subversive.

SHAWN CONNER(May 4, 1999)