Kings of Leon delivers all the pleasures of crackerjack southern rockabilly without a trace of nauseating hick-chic irony. Perhaps this is because these boys are actually from Nashville. And they really are all brothers, born and raised southern Baptists, ready to raise hell-fire. You're not going to get much more Southern than that.
The Kings' new LP 'Holy Roller Novocain' would serve well as the soundtrack to a sweaty night of dancin' and debauchery around the whiskey still, or perhaps as great getaway music after the cops come to break the shindig up. There are some who might call it good ass-whoopin' music, as the swinging tempos will certainly get your heart pumping, and the tails of weird love in “Molly’s Chambers” will put you in a strange mood for action. To wit: The relentlessly charging title track fueled within me a powerful desire to buy a late seventies Plymouth and bust it down to Vegas, and fate be damned, let the chips fall where they may. This LP, like strong cactus-drugs but without withdrawal, just might kick start the placid soul.
Fortunately, the tunes are presented with little ornamentation or digital shenanigans. It's straight-up roadhouse production throughout, a refreshing choice that brings the skill and energy of the group to the forefront. The performances are spot-on, with an interesting tension coming from the struggle between the worked-up tempo of the band and Caleb Followill's lazy southern vocal style. It's a sweet dichotomy.
I don't know if you will ever bust up a liquor store in West Memphis and tear down to Mexico at 90 mph, but I suggest you keep a copy of Kings of Leon's 'Holy Roller Novocain' in the glove compartment just in case. |