Lots of bands practice a sort of primal and vital rock and roll these days, but they always seem to have a schtick. The Hives go on stage, play their balls off and outrageously claim to be the best band on the planet. You know that they know that they’re no such thing, but you also know that somewhere in the band’s mythology they have created characters so hip that they are above criticism or failure. Art Brut, too, have created a wall of irony so thick that I’m still not sure if they want to drink Hennessey with Morissey.
I’m not saying that these bands’ reworking of good old garage rock is a bad thing; sometimes image manipulation is necessary to add dimension to otherwise minimalist music. But every once in a while these bands need to realize that music can stand on its own without Karen O’s rockstar posing or Jack White’s red/white/black imagery. And music is what
Recognition is swinging in the Black Lips’ direction just in time for their breakout release. A gumbo of Nuggets-style garage blooze, country, warped pop and a flagrant disregard for political sensitivity, Good Bad Not Evil matches the swagger and the sound with enough rough ‘n ready riffs and sloppy hooks for three albums by lesser garage goblins.
I can imagine their creative process. “Hey guys, let’s write a song about Hurricane Katrina.” “Oh, okay.” Band jams for a little while, singer walks up to the microphone “O Katrina why you gotta be so mean / you broke my heart way down in New Orleans / I can’t believe what I saw on the TV screen / O Katrina why can’t you be serene / O Katrina why you gotta be so mean.” Band repeats the lone verse and then stops playing. “Do you wanna do another take?” “Not really.”
If the songs were classics but the production poor, the album would be in great danger of failure. Many a good punk band has fallen into lifeless, dull Pro-Tooled tripe that masquerades as “audio clarity” recently, just ask the Strokes about their last album. Instead, the sound is the sort of warts and all recording that only seasoned amateurs can pull off. For every instrument that gets lost in the mix and every word rendered unintelligible in the fray, there are nearly a dozen moments where the band transcends their limitations into something truly wonderful.
Highlights of this lo-fi gem of noisy rock include the earnest/sinister/hilarious “How Do You Tell a Child That Someone Has Died?” which includes spoken lyrics like “He was killed by a motorist in a drunken act of rage / let him live on in your heart / now we must turn the page.” But rather than the kind of tongue and cheek campfire sing-along a lesser band would put you through, the track is a thousand yard stare of malevolent Stones attitude that you can’t help but take a little seriously. On the opposing end of the spectrum, the band cops some pop smarts from Phil Spector on their tribute to juvenile delinquency, “Bad Kids,” which takes the famous “Be My Baby” drumbeat to the other side of the tracks. It’s hard not to like an album with such an effortless command of atmosphere.
Who knows, offstage these guys might be a bunch of well-adjusted accountants and clerks. And even if they are, it wouldn’t matter. They just put out one of the best surprises of the year.
http://www.myspace.com/theblacklips
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