He rocked his way to the season 7 ”American Idol” win. But with his new self-titled album, he’s facing some much tougher judges: the CD-buying public

Honoring a time-worn rock & roll tradition, David Cook is trying to coax his drummer out of a prone position. ‘‘Hey, I didn’t make you go out and drink last night!” he ribs the reclining stickman. ”You’re at work, bitch! Don’t lie on the couch and look at me like I just killed your dog.” Soon they are all back at it inside Hollywood’s famed SIR rehearsal studios, where hard-rock bands have long given their chops a workout before hitting the road. This afternoon, the hardest and loudest sounds are coming out of Studio 6, where Cook & Co. are running through songs from the American Idol winner’s forthcoming major-label debut. ”Bar Ba Sol,” the heaviest song from the new album, builds from thick, bottom-end-rattling riffs to screaming solos, and Cook is letting loose the kind of grungy wailing that might make less gifted singers bust a corpuscle. The metalheads down the hall must surely be impressed.

The song ends, and the mood is broken as Stevie Salas, the musical director who helped Cook put this new band together, bursts through the studio door, phone to his ear. ”David, this is my ex-girlfriend,” he announces, ”and she told me to give you a pinch on your cute little ass from one of your cougar fans.” Cook winces. ”I am passing it on verbally without giving you the pinch,” Salas reassures him.

And therein lies, if not a pinch, a rub. Idol hasn’t churned out many rockers before Cook — certainly none who actually won the competition — and the singer is now facing a big challenge: How feasible is it to rock like a mofo while still wooing the mom-and-kiddie crowd that helped him win in the first place?

The self-titled David Cook (due in stores Nov. 18) aims to split that difference. It’s a guitar record, full of gut-busting singing, but also mainstream, melodic, earnest, and anthemic almost to a fault — in other words, what you might have expected from a smolderingly affable Midwesterner who staked his entire Idol career on a Collective Soul cover. ”There was always a dialogue between the A&R guys and David and myself,” says Rob Cavallo, the noted rock producer (Green Day’s American Idiot, among others) who oversaw Cook’s album. ”We were trying to strike the right balance between something 100 percent true to David as an artist, and at the same time satisfying all the supposed needs or desires of the cougar set, or whatever you want to call it. Or,’‘ he corrects himself, backing up over the C-word, ‘‘I should just say his Idol audience — that’s the best way to say it.”

Like all post-Idol debuts, David Cook was made preposterously quickly. Almost the entire 10-week recording process happened without Cook, who was still on the road with last summer’s Idol package tour. Cavallo oversaw tracking back in L.A., and Cook would e-mail demos from his tour bus, songs concocted during frantic hotel-room writing sessions with guys from the Goo Goo Dolls and Our Lady Peace. It was an on-the-fly collaborative process he calls ”completely organic and at the same time completely absurd.”

Even so, Cook says he’s thrilled with the result. ”I managed to convince enough people to give me a little bit of carte blanche,” says the 25-year-old singer. ‘‘I wanted to make a record that had some meat to it, where no song was disposable. I’d put this record up against any record out right now. That’s not a cocky thing. To me, it’s my kid. I want to try to prove the 56 million people who voted for me right.”

Whatever happens, Cook clearly won’t have a career like either of the two previous Idol winners. The 2006 victor, Taylor Hicks, benefited from older-lady mania in his TV run before getting dropped after one fast-fizzling album, while 2007′s Jordin Sparks went from being the show’s least buzzed-about champ to scoring a surprising string of fizzy, teen-oriented pop hits with her debut disc. Cook’s situation is more like that of Carrie Underwood, who similarly exited the show with a distinct musical identity. But while Underwood had country radio waiting with open arms, Cook’s soul-searching lyrics, Idol roots, and dearth of tattoos may hurt his chances within his chosen genre. ”I’d like to see him on the rock charts,” says Cavallo. ”I don’t know that it’s gonna go there. I think it’s gonna find its audience on the Hot AC and pop charts.’‘ First single ”Light On” is making solid headway at Hot AC, though the power ballad’s rock edge is a tougher sell at rhythm-oriented Top 40. ”David Archuleta’s song ['Crush'] is the more natural fit,” says Sharon Dastur, program director at New York City’s Z100, ”but I think Cook has a great shot at Top 40 as well.”

His coronation anthem, ”The Time of My Life,” sold almost a million downloads. He also set a Billboard record by having 11 of his Idol performances debut in the Hot 100 at once. The question is whether Cook can still find the same love now that he’s getting out from under the covers. If there’s a hopeful precedent to cite, it’s Idol also-ran Chris Daughtry, who saw four of his similarly riff-heavy tunes crack the Hot 100′s top 20. Still, Daughtry was able to buy himself a little distance from the Idol franchise in ways Cook can’t, first by (a) not winning, then by (b) scowling a lot. Cook does affect a glowering look on his album cover, but as viewers know, a warm, easy smile comes more naturally. ”I do take music seriously,” he says. ”I don’t think you can do this and not. I don’t think I’m gonna be putting out a Weird Al record anytime soon. But I don’t take myself all that seriously. I’m kind of a goober from the Midwest who hit the lottery.”

The night after the band’s final rehearsal, Cook is doing a friends-and-family-only gig at the Viper Room, working out any last kinks before his appearance on Saturday Night Live. Backstage, the singer is telling his bandmates he’s battling an unexpected case of anxiety. Guitarist Neal Tiemann, a holdover from Cook’s pre-Idol band, the Midwest Kings, is surprised. ”You’ve done more nervous-making things than this,” he says. No kidding. ”Yeah, in a sense…,” Cook replies, unable to explain why he’s so intimidated by the hundred or so friendly waiting souls. ”I think we’re finally a band,” he says. ”It’s something I’ve been looking forward to for about a year now, just to have a moment where it felt like…well, like it felt a year ago.” In other words, back when he was still playing clubs — pre-Simon, pre-Archuleta, pre-makeover, pre-king of the world.

There’s a knock on the door, and Cook’s girlfriend, season 2 Idol contestant Kimberly Caldwell, makes an entrance. ”I told you not to let her in!” Cook barks, affecting a preshow boys-club paranoia. Break-a-leg smooches are exchanged before Caldwell exits with these parting words: ”Be wonderful! Be fabulous!” Then, realizing her mistake, she corrects herself. ”I mean, be hardcore!”

Out on stage, Cook isn’t long into the mini-set before he mentions that the last time he played the Viper Room, an A&R guy told him he needed to find another line of work. A middle finger of vindication follows, along with a nice vocal raspberry. As the set progresses, he seems proudest after the thundering ”Bar Ba Sol.” ”And you guys thought you were at an American Idol concert!” he crows at the song’s conclusion. Then he looks around a little sheepishly, as if remembering what bad form it might be to bite the hand that brought him here. ”I had to say it once,” Cook murmurs with a smile, before moving on to a power ballad.

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