After the modern-rock radio success of "Bound For The Floor" (c'mon, you remember the hooky chorus: "You just don't get it/You keep it copacetic"), you might mistake Illinois duo Local H for a one-hit wonder. Don't count on it. The band's As Good As Dead was a sonic joyride with big dumb-rock riffs and smart lyrical content that went largely overlooked. On Pack Up The Cats, Local H merges Roy Thomas Baker's fun, indulgent production with more wry commentary--witnessed in titles like "Hit The Skids Or: How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The Rock," "Laminate Man" and "All The Kids Are Right"--and the same immediate, burly rock. Scott Lucas owes big vocal debts to Kurt Cobain ("Fine And Good," "Cool Magnet," "Deep Cut," "What Can I Tell You?"), but refuses to succumb to the kind of personal and artistic tortures that haunted the late Nirvana vocalist. A healthy attitude compliments this very cohesive 15-song album. If Local H ever becomes a Nirvana-like sensation, it's all copacetic with Lucas, who bellows on "All-Right (Oh Yeah)": "You could never figure out/What was all the buzz about/I know it's me, it's only stupid me."