Say what you will about Terry Knight, he's one of the few American producers to come to grips with the notion that American rock bands are generally inferior to their British counterparts. He had Grand Funk Railroad imitating the Anglo-heavies right from the start during his bid for kingpin superstardom, and it just might have worked were it not for the extreme limitations imposed by the band's lack of talent.

As it was, GFR piddled around in unlistenable noise until the release of E Pluribus Funk, on which they somehow managed to recycle the English formula with commendable results. A bit weak on the old intellectual stimulation, but it was tight, heavy, exciting and a lot of fun. Then came the break with Knight, compounded by the breaking up of their power trio, with the addition of keyboardist Craig Frost. And then Phoenix, probably the worst album ever made. With GFR forsaking the English gods and still drowning in their considerable lack of talent, the future looked dark for the boys from Flint.

Enter Todd Rundgren, he of magnificent albums and multicolored hair. Whose reputation as a producer, John Mendelsohn points out, stems mainly from getting his name on the back of a lotta folks's albums—a few of which (e.g., Badfinger, Fanny) he's managed to ruin with weak, tinny sound. "This project," he said, "will either re-establish Grand Funk as stars or effectively end my career."

You can rest easy, Todd, for while We're an American Band isn't exactly a cosmic masterpiece, it is indeed a highly enjoyable, hard-rockin' funfest. The title tells the story. Grand Funk is finished with the Anglo-imitations and will henceforth concentrate on hard-driving American rock & roll. To hell with the ideal—from here on in Grand Funk is gonna strive for the attainable!

Rundgren's primary contribution has been to give the band a fuller, lusher recorded sound, which works especially well during "(Workin' on) the Railroad." The sonic emphasis has been shifted from guitarist Mark Farner to Frost and the result is a song with a lot more depth and pure feeling than anything the band had heretofore attempted. "Creepin'" and "The Loneliest Rider" also operate in this vein, succeeding almost as well despite being the latest entries in the Farner Social Commentary Sweepstakes. The next entry will definitely be one too many.

"Walk Like a Man" has a tough, ballsy riff that infects the entire song with a gruff, macho feel. Here, as elsewhere, it's obvious that the increased frequency of drummer Don Brewer's lead vocals isn't merely accidental. His voice is much harder and harsher than Farner's and makes for an easily-discernible rise in the levels of tension and authority in Grand Funk's songs. Brewer's vocal really makes "Stop Lookin' Back" into a creditable reaffirmation of the old "pull yourself up by your bootstraps" ethic, despite his jungle drum solo at song's end that doesn't make any kind of sense.

"Ain't Got Nobody" and "Black Licorice" are both solid all-purpose boogie numbers, the latter being about (horrors!) miscegenation. But the title tune is the album's real goodie—the definitive AMerican single. Despite a few factual inaccuracies (groupies do not say "C'mon dudes, let's get it on"), it really moves out nicely, saying what it's got to say then getting its ass out of there. What more could you ask?

Well, even the Mets once won a World Series, so it really isn't all that incredible for me to say that this new Grand Funk album is definitely OK. It doesn't excite me like E Pluribus Funk, but, in defining their musical objective and then realizing it, this band has taken a huge step forward in its battle for critical respect. No doubt about it, on this disk Grand Funk Railroad aren't bad at all—for an American band! (RS 143)

GORDON FLETCHER