Front Page Reviews & AIR

I made damn sure I was the one to write this review, but now as I sit here at my desk, I’m not completely sure why.  Maybe I’m not the best one to review the Black Keys strong new effort El Camino.  Maybe I am.  I know that I love the Keys.  Over the years, they’ve solidified that position that my fellow music junkies, I’m sure, are familiar with—even if they screw up, I’ll still love them.  They’re still gonna be in my top 5.  I’ll buy their albums on the release date, pine for vinyl, go to the shows; I once went to NYC on the Fung Wah bus for that sole, soul purpose.  But if you think that this will be a slam-dunk review, you are wrong, wise Mule reader.  You are undoubtedly wise, yet unknowingly wrong, like a bird flying south in June.

We’ve had a bit of a love-hate relationship over the years, I guess, and it’s not all guitarist/vocalist Dan Auerbach's and drummer/producer Patrick Carney's fault.  History first: I got into the Keys late.  A student of mine clued me in, and I bought Magic Potion in 2006.  My response was…are you kidding me?  I was raised to worship Cream and Zeppelin, and these were young dudes from Akron, Ohio who made it all sound new again—yet somehow still old, like albums still in the plastic but covered in a layer of dust.  I went back and got everything I could: the Big Come Up, Thickfreakness, Rubber Factory, and 2006’s brilliant set of Junior Kimbrough covers, Chulahoma.  Going backwards, everything sounded better than what was prior, especially the first two albums, which were recorded on Carney’s 8-Track from the 1980s.  It was raw and primal but also melodic and restrained, with songs like "The Lengths" and "You’re the One" providing release to the repetitive onslaught of blues licks.  If I had concerns at all, it was that the band was one-dimensional—even in concert, the guitar parts could blend.  But in sweat and lyrics and intensity, they just had it.  Seeing these guys live, the common refrain was “Are there really just two of them up there?”  The music had heat, but better yet, the shit had heart.

I miss these days...

Fast-forward to 2008.  Maybe the Keys could feel the repetition?  Maybe, like all talented artists, they wanted to grow and change.  Carney wanted a little space to create.  Auerbach wanted room to add loose, oily licks that boiled when touched.  Whatever it was, I’m not questioning their desire to grow and expand at all, and I’m definitely not questioning their desire to get the music out there.  Carney told Rolling Stone in 2010 that “we want to be as big as we can without doing anything that makes us completely uncomfortable.”  These days, my take is that bands need to do whatever the hell they can to get exposure.  TV is the new radio, and the Keys started that racket in 2004, placing a song in an ad for the movie Black Snake Moan.  They’ve gone on to assault us with so many TV placements that Colbert did a sketch about it.  They’ve also revamped their image—going from two unkempt kids, to two hipster adults clad in flannel and boots, and become master of the viral video.  10 years, seven albums, over 2 millions sold.  Who am I to question?

Well, I’m the press, and it’s my Variational Duty. When Attack and Release dropped in 2008, Danger Mouse appeared, adding some spicy bells and whistles to the blues broth.  Attack and Release still had edge, with punk nuggets like “Remember When” offsetting the welcome hip-hop explorations of “Strange Times” and ‘Psychotic Girl.”  The Keys had BlakRoc in their sights, and these guys are huge admirers of classic rap hooks, so it made sense.  But did the band lose something? 

For 2010’s Brothers, the Keys welcomed Danger Mouse back into the fold, and his production and playing helped them explode more fully into the mainstream and grab some Grammys.  The album has some ragers, “Howlin for You,” and some car-stereo gems, like “Sinister Kid.”  But what it’s most well-known for is the keyboard accents, female backing vocals, xylophone, and other accents that usher in a fuller, more experimental sound: hit single “Tighten Up” is a perfect example.  You can’t not tap your foot along with it, and there’s a hilarious video that goes along with the song.  Bonus!  We saw the Keys tour in support of Brothers, and they brought along their touring keys player and bassist, (who, strangely, seemed to face away from the stage), playing one set as a duo and one as a quartet. All cool, but still that lasting feeling…was this the same band that I had grown deathly obsessed with?  Probably not.  They were a new form of that band.  Maybe the right question is:  did I like them as much?  Or, allow me to further rephrase:  did they feel it as much as they used to? 

How the hell should I know?  I don’t.  I have no idea.  But with a bigger sound comes more players on stage, more variety, more reaching.  Minimalism and a lean, angry sound is enveloped by expectation, perhaps.  And in comparing the Keys of 2006 to the Keys of 2010, I couldn’t help but wonder about the emotion and lust and longing behind Auerbach’s (love) tortured vocals, behind the angry snare hits.  Was there real sentiment there?  Or have these guys found a formula that works, and settled into a 3 album groove of Zales commercials, accolades, and the help of the immensely talented Mighty Danger Mouse?

Again, I don’t know the answer.  But before buying El Camino, I’d read in a music publication that I won’t name that the album was tighter, leaner, and meaner.  And, Mule reader, all of this was to set-up my mind-state going into the album.  And now I’ll take it track by track…

“Lonely Boy” steals a honky-tonk riff from Phish’s "Possum"  on the verse, but the sound is exactly what the Black Keys and Danger Mouse have perfected—it’s driving and textured, anchored by a grungy looped riff that would have been at home on the Big Come Up…but not encircled by keyboards and backing vocals.  I have to say, when I first heard the raw, overblown sound of the riff, my high hopes for the album tripled.

“Dead and Gone” hand-claps its way through the “I’ll go anywhere you go” chorus.  In the first two songs Auerbach has lamented lost love in what seems like hundreds of different ways, and here he’s playing the anguished role: “What took you so long?” he calls mournfully.  The song really never goes anywhere, though, seemingly getting stuck on repeat. 

“Gold On The Ceiling” borrows the glitzy, retro keys from “Tighten Up” but adds a crunching chorus and a simple yet melodic blues guitar breakdown. See below—they killed this song on Letterman.  This song absolutely rocks, I have to say.

The Keys cite the Cramps and the Clash as influences for El Camino, but the next track, "Little Black Submarine,"  is all Led Zeppelin, in the best “Gallows Pole” sort of way.  It also recalls Auerbach’s great solo disc, Keep It Hid.  When the Sabbath-esque chorus kicks in, it’s both euphoric and dreaded, and Auerbach stretches out with some Hendrix-style double-bends and an extended solo at the end.  Play guitar like this, Dan, and I won’t question your need to expand.  Patrick does the depraved work of two drummers and and absolutely brutalizes his kit—this is easily my favorite track.

With “Money Maker,” the Keys explore familiar territory and if you can imagine Robert Plant’s voice splattered across the chorus, harness Led Zep again.  The riffage is heavy and the lyrics are vintage 1970s, with Auerbach sounding both angry and impressed by the woman in question.  I can imagine this being a massive song when played live.

“Run Right Back:”  “I run right back to her…well she’s a special thing, she doesn’t read too much, but there’s no doubt, she’s written about, finest exterior, but she’s so superior, she won’t allow, and I want it now, she’s the worst thing I’ve been addicted to...”  I know that many lyrics aren’t autobiographical, but how many times has this guy had his heart broken?  Or is he just exploring blues clichés?  Solid song, but I wonder..

“Sister” is the flop for me.  It feels like filler.  Strangely, I rarely like songs that go by the name "Sister."

It has been one “Hell of a Season,” and the bass does feel needed here: it helps us to listen to the drums.  Carney rules this song, getting all Keith Moon on the chorus and breakdown, and Auerbach sprays gritty tremolo all over the solo section.  The Black Keys love to sneak really great tunes on at the end of their LPs.  This is one of my favorites.

In “Stop Stop” Auerbach admits: “They told me to stay away but I was much too weak…this love was so strong it shoulda been against the law…”  Compare this to this lyric from “The Lengths” off of the brilliant Rubber Factory:  “Tell me what you were thinking, to treat somebody so.  The care he took, the lengths to which he’d go.  The coals are hot to walk across without your shoes, but in the end, know that you’ve got nothing to lose.”  I know it's a subtle difference, but for me, one is predictable, and one isn’t.

“Nova Baby” fails for me in nearly every category.  I’m not sure how it made the album; I don’t see much that is redeeming here, or that causes it to stand out from any of the other tunes. 

“Mind Eraser,” however, is the right tune to end with.  Dense and dank and funky—they’re clicking on all cylinders here, even with the lush Danger Mouse chorus.  However, I finish listening thinking that the first half of the album is far stronger than the second.  I also have a strong desire to start it over, though I’ve been listening for days.

So, overall?  Damn good album.  I’ll probably wear it out on my stereo, in fact, I know I will.  Am I being hypocritical here?  Definitely.  I want these guys to grow and experiment and continue to make career-defining music.  And I love some of what they’ve added here—this LP hits hard, a heavy gut-punch of blues and rock that sounds better and better as you raise he decibel level.  This album is far, far better then Brothers.  But is it way better than Rubber Factory or Thickfreakness?  I’m not sure.  I know that my girlfriend Katie, a blues enthusiast and Black Keys “purist” would argue that the Black Keys lost their “sound” albums ago.  I wouldn’t go that far.  I do admit that something changed, but I think something had to change.  I just hope that they can preserve the dynamic that the band used to have, because I worry that with the added musicians and writers and singers and sounds, they might have lost that thrill of being a super-tight, ballsy duo.  The energy between these guys when they howled at each other from close range on a tiny stage was incredible, comparable to the way Jack and Meg used to hussle and cuss at each other when they were still White Stripes. 

I love this album.  I just hope they haven’t lost something.