Kings of Leon

Kings of Leon prove that the garages of Southern America are filled with more than leather skinned young men without pupils, cranking out batches of crystal methamphetamine between frustrating sessions carving out the perfect soap box derby car for his sister’s kid. There are rock bands in there too. This one threw together the best example of rock and roll seen and heard in 2005.

It’s a lo-fi, scrappy—even sloppy (a good thing) record with twelve tracks that command attention. Never boring or cumbersome—and there’s a definite unquenched thirst as you look forward to hearing the songs again, to catch something subtle (but important) missed first time round.

You’ll find biker-bar ferocity (“Pistols of Fire” and “Razz”) juxtaposed with a just-right, jangle rock approachability (“The Bucket” and “Taper Jean Girl”). It’s ok to feed these bears. Maybe it’s the vulnerable vocals that bleat and crack like you’d expect—no, hope from a Kentucky (Tennessee, whatever) punk rocker that’s had doses of Lou and Mick (before they should have called it quits). “Girls are gonna love the way I toss my hair / Boys are gonna hate the way I sing” bemoans frontman Caleb Followill on “Velvet Snow.” Maybe I’m in touch with my feminine side, but I like it.

Speaking of feminine, “Soft” is overtly sexual—in a surly teenage pornographic way. Too arrogant. Too experienced. How perfect. Long-live rock!

For more info see: kingsofleon.com