by James Christopher MongerThe power trio is not a term to be used lightly -- for every Blue Cheer there's a blink-182 -- but when it's applied to the electrifying cacophony emitted by the Muggs, it's almost not enough. The Detroit-based threesome is a power trio the way that Led Zeppelin or Black Sabbath were -- Robert Plant and Ozzy are cultural icons, but it's what went on behind them that launched a million rock bands. Muggs guitarist Danny Methric's solos transcend the blues that spawned them by sneaking out of their major and minor trajectories without a care in the world, while drummer Matt Rost and bass player Tony DeNardo -- the latter switched to the lower register on a Fender Rhodes after suffering a hemorrhagic stroke in 2001 that left his right side paralyzed -- sound as if they're joined at the shoulders. This is stadium rock trapped in a club and looking for a way out with every intention of burning the roof down -- not in a Great White kind of way -- that brings to mind '70s classic rock like AC/DC, Humble Pie, and Mountain. What sets the Muggs apart from questionable blues-rock revivalists like the Kings of Leon is their complete lack of pretense. Perfectly rendered guitar rock is at its essence the simple practice of fusing together a bass and guitar lead that jumps into the pit of your stomach and stays there, something the Muggs have obviously mastered on standout cuts like"Need Ya Baby,""Monster," and the Hammond-driven"Hard Love," but they're not above taking the listener through a space rock mid-section that owes more to Piper at the Gates of Dawn-era Pink Floyd than it does Ten Years After. It's that perfectly balanced allegiance to both discipline -- these gentlemen are obviously no strangers to the rehearsal room -- and balls-out rock & roll hedonism that makes this self-titled debut, when inserted into the medium of your choice, turn up all by itself.