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If Jesus hates Cleveland as the blue collar bad asses in Amps II Eleven contend on their hard-luck debut, it's no wonder. Cleveland is a city that sweats Straub, treats nicotine as a sacrament, and works for a living. It's a place where the hair is greasier than a bucket of the colonel's finest and knuckles bleed, not hearts. No band better embodies the long nights and short tempers that define Cleveland rock and roll than Amps II Eleven, five hard rock Hessians whose roar is only outsized by their bar tab. Formed from underground Ohio favorites Stepsister, Southern Trespass, and Shuteye in late 2002, Amps II Eleven's Rust Belt rumble is equal parts raw rock blitz and baked, Budweiser boogie. Frontman Matthew Chernus howls like a drunk at last call, recounting battles with the bottle and back alley beatdowns in a hundred proof holler. Guitarists Aaron Dowell and Attila Csapo come with diesel-fueled riffs and leads heated enough to boil water. Bassist Tony Erba's Rickenbacher growls like an underfed Rottweiler, while drummer Steve Callahan locks the groove in as tight as these boys' clenched fists. It all comes to a head on the band's self-titled debut, a half hour of power that reaffirms the Midwest's grip on real, dirt-beneath-the-fingernails rock and roll. Curled-lip kiss offs ("2% Rippers") slap bellies with dirty funk work-ups ("Blood Runs Black") and loud blasts of pilsner punk ("Bourbon Sprawl"). It's a hangover-in-waiting, a rock and roll gutcheck that spares no liver or larynx. So dust off your denim, order another round, and let's see what you're made of, tough guy.