As much as working in a record store keeps you in a pole position to be first to hear the latest and greatest (although, in this day and age, that's hardly a given), there's a certain beauty to being a latecomer. Not only is it humanly impossible to actually be on top of everything that you're supposed to listen to, but arriving at something at your own pace releases the weight of expectation that can squash so many albums like a proverbial grape. While they've never been The Strokes or Franz Ferdinand in terms of hype, The Black Keys have been a band to check out for the better part of a decade now. Brothers, their sixth LP, is my introduction to the band, and even though it wasn't a matter of conscious abstinence on my part, it's been well worth the wait.
I must admit to hearing a track here and there that often leaned toward the greasy side of sludgy. And I'm aware enough of the group's circumstances to know about 2008's Attack And Release, which featured production from Danger Mouse and is often credited with expanding their sound. But no matter how they got here, the most impressive thing about Brothers is how it quite simply doesn't sound like the work of two guys—and I'm not just talking about the obvious matter of all those overdubs done in-studio. They're creatively circumnavigating their limitations without abandoning what makes them unique or getting too busy.
From The Spinanes to The Inbreds, from godheadSilo to the mighty White Stripes, duos nearly always explode into their careers with their audience focusing on what they don't do rather than what they do: "They don't have a bassist! Rock with no guitars? I gotta hear this!", and so on. But inevitably, this character trait leads to a lot of dull follow-up records that sound the same—unless they find a way to turn a corner. The best have done this, and I'd happily put The Black Keys in that category. While everything here clearly sits in the general niche of blues/rock/r&b/soul, it's passionate, varied, and classic without being predictable. What's more, Dan Auerbach and Patrick Carney never lean too heavily on studio games to fill out their sound—no matter what's going on, you feel the casual communication between these two gents, especially in Carney's loosey-goosey drumming. Sticky, groovy, sexy and haunted, it's straight-up a really great record.
Now go away; I've got a back catalogue to check out.