The Black Keys, Rubber Factory (Fat Possum) 9+
I’ve never been a fan of most blues revivalists, at least the ones who so slavishly tried to be authentic that they usually lost what was magical about it in the first place (guilty parties include John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers, Cream, Stevie Ray Vaughan, even the White Stripes in more reverential blues moments). Millions would bitterly disagree with that take, but I just prefer the mavericks, from Hendrix’s soulful space excursions to Captain Beefheart & The Magic Band’s dadaist deconstructions to Jon Spencer’ Blues Explosion’s often misunderstood, playful revival show. On 2002’s The Big Come Up, The Black Keys’ Dan Auerbach displayed an awesome vocal maturity for one so young, with pipes reminiscent of Paul Rodgers (Free, Bad Company). 2003’s Thickfreakness focused their youthful energy into killer hard rock riffs. Rubber Factory takes a big leap into world class songwriting.
True to its namesake, the album was recorded in a former rubber factory, kind of sounds like it. The mix follows the Free template in trimming down the sound to its sparest, most primal essence (interestingly members of Gang Of Four listened to a lot of Free while brewing up their own spare sound). The space enhances the impact of every tom tom and guitar chord (incredibly free of cliché despite their reliance on blues-based scales). And it’s endearing to hear that even after their recent success, it sounds like they haven’t upgraded the shitty guitar amp that’s probably held together with band aids. The tones are decidedly fuzzy and distorted, but the playing is utterly disciplined, almost staccato, occasionally rising to a roar far more abrasive than on previous albums.
”When the Lights Go Out” starts out at a sinister shuffle accented with deep tom toms, while the catchy “10 A.M. Automatic,” with its sharp garage-punk riffs that The Cramps would have lovingly exhumed, deserves to be a hit. Two covers actually match, if not improve on the originals. The Kinks’ “Act Nice And Gentle” is given a jaunty, almost country-ish style they wouldn’t tackle until Muswell Hillbillies. “Grown So Ugly” is an old Robert Pete Williams blues tune originally covered by Captain Beefheart & his Magic Band in 1967. Black Keys rock it hard like Led Zeppelin/early AC/DC, with a masterful vocal performance on the break. Every tune offers seemingly endless hooks sturdy enough to hang your leather on, some ass-shackin’ boogie rhythms (if only more 70s butt rock achieved this simple but elusive objective) and now and then, a surprising twist of a phrase or pop melody.
At its most explosive moments, or even the rustic, sparkling, “Wild Horses”-type balladry of “The Lengths,” Rubber Factory rekindles fond memories of the long forgotten, mighty Mule. But hear this – Black Keys are not destined for indie rock obscurity. Regardless of what the flavor of the month is, these songs will be impossible for the masses to deny once they find ‘em.
