Thursday, April 12, 2007
| People love talking about the Kings of Leon. Recently, they've been described as a bunch of Calvin Klein models doing Creedence Clearwater Revival covers and had their nuts and tight jeans talked about so much, it's impossible not to imagine front man Caleb's testicles as some rare denim encrusted dish that you might find on the menu at The Ivy. Tonight, at the 200 capacity 100 club, radio competition winners and photographers jostle for position to hear tracks from the UK Number 1 album Because of The Times as well as the hits – it is a live radio show, after all. A nervous Caleb steps up to the mic, closer to the crowd than he would like and looks towards the floor, mentally counting himself in. "We're tired of all the stories and celebrities showing up at gigs" Caleb recently admitted and it shows. Close enough to toss used plectrums at the skulls of at least ten peroxide blondes gripping the stage, Caleb winces, closes his eyes and kicks off a brooding set full of enough bluesy venom to blow away the paparazzi and turn onlooker Alex Zane's curly hair straight. Because of The Times isn't loaded with must-buy iTunes downloads but tonight the songs fit snugly between the honkey-tonk shindig of debut Youth & Young Manhood and are allowed to become much bigger than the album itself. Sloppy, chunky riffs match the primal beats and it's impossible to believe that these tunes came from anywhere else than whiskeytown, USA. New single On Call turns into a rumbling exercise of call and response crowd participation, managed with the kind of care that wraps everyone in a celebratory hurricane. The pleading, worn chorus and screeching bare boned riffs lead to the single note bass solo and it's clear that the Kings have come of age – this is the elegantly designed nuclear comedown. Losing the beards and country farmhand look isn't a mistake – they want to blow apart the image of being coke-snorting pretty boys from nowheresville and be judged by their songs rather than the cut of their jeans. The somber rumble of On Call gives way to unashamedly hick ho-down Black Thumbnail. The crowd dance, swing and jive like a line dancing disco gone wrong. There's head bangers, girls dancing in circles and seedy blokes circling like predators. It's like the club scene in Thelma & Louise orchestrated by the guys on stage who appear to have arrived from Brokeback Mountain. Molly's Chambers turns into a high kicking stallion, and sees Caleb regain his stride, ditching the nerves and baiting the blondes with taunting gestures before instantly turning back to the job at hand. He screams, he mumbles and he delivers lines with more man-don't-give-a-fuck machismo than Snoop Dogg driving an Enzo the wrong way down a one way road in Romford on a Saturday night. If you ever thought they didn't mean it or cared more about their Calvins creeping over their 1972 Levis, you've been proved wrong. Because of The Times has one standout single on it but it no one gives a shit. Tonight, the Kings are both fast and slow but as free and liberating as drinking a bottle of Jack in front of your teacher and fuck, it feels good. |
1 comment:
Well said.
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