This has been coming for some time. There were enough quotes from the band to suggest the Kings of Leon’s stadium-sized fame had left them staring at the crowd and seeing people they never intended to invite to the party. “Use Somebody” changed everything. Suddenly the band who was used to being big in the UK (and maybe KU) – was rockin’ the BK, DQ, and Circle K. “Use Somebody” was one of those once in a career infectious rock gems that simply wouldn’t wear out. Bands have been built off tracks like this (see The Fray, Matchbox 20, even Journey). But after giving their new record, Come Around Sundown, a few spins it seems the boys from Tennessee have charted a different course. Dare I say they’ve stopped believin’?
That’s not to say they’ve made an unpopular record on purpose. It’s just that Come Around Sundown lacks the pop shimmer of its predecessor Only by The Night. If you’re looking for your next “Fans,” “Sex on Fire,” or “Use Somebody” – you won’t find it here. In fact the closest KOL gets to an accessible pop track is the first single “Radioactive.” The sing-along chorus, “it’s in the water, it’s where you came from” is further evidence that KOL’s intent was to return to their roots for their fifth studio album.
A buddy of mine suggested what Come Around Sundown was lacking was production value. Turns out the album was produced by KOL’s trusted team of Angelo Petraglia and Jacquire King. But to give it a listen you’d almost think the boys produced it themselves. It has that feel to it. While it’s clear they know their sound, the record is missing the fit and finish to make it jump off the shelves. And perhaps that’s by design.
Some will say stadium-sized success has changed KOL. Yes they’ve launched their own fashion label and demanded private bathrooms on the summer festival circuit. And Come Around Sundown was recorded in New York not Nashville, and you can tell. But at their core the Kings of Leon still make musket music. There’s always going to be a civil war vibe about the three preacher’s sons and a cousin from Tennessee. For this reason the standout track on Come Around Sundown is hands down “Back Down South.” That’s not to say it will be the biggest hit because “Back Down South” is just country enough to lose some people. “Back Down South” is rock & roll with a gun rack and a dip in its lip. It’s a single with its spurs on, and the sort of song that college kids and city workers can agree on. Think Allman Brothers, Skynyrd, even “Fishin’ in the Dark.” It’s a song built for the wide-open road. If you had to buy just one track, spend your dollar here.
The difference with Come Around Sundown is there is a lot more filler here. The record basically falls off a cliff on tracks 8 through 12. The last track “Pickup Truck” provides the only kickstand to keep the back half of the album from collapsing completely. If you’re sitting in your car trying to play your favorites off Come Around Sundown for a friend you’ll probably find yourself hitting the single “Radioactive,” “Back Down South” and maybe “Mary” and “Pickup Truck.” Three or four tracks in total. Come Around Sundown is a fine record for core fans or just let play in the background; it’s just not a string of hits. It’s a grower, and it comes at you in waves. It’s a bit like a Pearl Jam record, another band that never set its sights on winning the popularity contest.
“Mary” is another fun one and the closest to living up to the press release which proclaimed Come Around Sundown as “yet another bold and expansive statement.” On “Mary” we find the Followills putting on letter sweaters and heading into the malt shop. Caleb’s signature drawl is laid on a ‘50s style track that Dion would have loved. The boys sing about the disco and Cameron even busts out a Chuck Berry style guitar solo. It’s a surprising twist on the record and would make a hell of a music video with the southern boys crashing the sock hop. I’m not sure it stands the test of time because Caleb’s voice is a bit too scruffy for the soda fountain. But I’m glad they tried it. Brave.
More than half of Come Around Sundown tends to blend together. It sounds good, and it sounds like Kings of Leon (something many of us have decided are the same thing). But very few of the tracks jump off the record and introduce themselves to you. There are a lot of face-in-the-crowd songs here. They’re fine but forgettable. If one track had to speak for this group and rises up from the bunch it would be track three “Pyro.” It’s a beauty. Trust me and invest here. Keep hitting this one and you’ll find yourself singing along. And at about the 3-minute mark where the brothers deconstruct the track into simpler sections it simmers to a slow cooked perfection. When Caleb screams “Can you feel it” over and over – you’ll find yourself giving a knowing nod and saying “yes indeed.”
Yes there are moments of magic on Come Around Sundown like the intro of “The Face” where Caleb moans of a long distance relationship, “If you give up New York, I’ll give you Tennessee” before rhyming “the only place to be.” And if there is a central narrative to Come Around Sundown, that’s it. The band is at a point in its career and fame that where they’re going (New York) is in direct conflict with where they’re from (Tennessee). These themes exist all over the record including ironically placing track “The End” first on the record.
The trouble with Come Around Sundown is it never really commits to New York or Tennessee – and where does that leave you – somewhere in Maryland? I think a lot of us actually wish the boys went all the ways back into the woods like on the first couple records. While they don’t do that here, they certainly aren’t shaving every day. Some of it’s by design and some of it just appears to be not as well crafted taking a step back toward the level of Because of the Times. Come Around Sundown feels like one of those in between records bands kick out when they’ve been spending a ton of time on the road and buying their own hype a bit. And there are misfires. “Pony Up” picks up where “I Want You” left off on the last record. Clearly the guys love that canteen boogie sound because they keep coming back to it, but unfortunately it just doesn’t translate. On “No Money” Caleb continues to play out his Aladdin fantasy of being the dirty, broke, street kid who falls in love with the princess. On the back half of the record he seems to be struggling to settle down, tame the rooster, and grow up while still being the “one who gives them all a whirl.” Unfortunately the music feels just as conflicted.
But it doesn’t really matter now does it? I smile when I say the Kings of Leon are, yes, out of the woods. At this stage it’s no longer necessary for us to grade each of their albums pass or fail. All the band really needs to do is put two or three killer songs into their set list as they continue their ascension as a band. And with “Back Down South” and “Radioactive” they’ve probably achieved this goal. Everyone in the band has greatly improved on their instruments with Jared and Nathan forming a rhythm section to be envied, Cameron becoming a mini-me of the Edge, and Caleb’s voice becoming one of the most recognizable in modern rock.
So while Come Around Sundown may leave some listeners stuck somewhere between Manhattan and Nashville, it also provides insight to where Kings of Leon are at this stage of their career. Clearly Kings of Leon were more comfortable in the “here’s the church, and here’s the steeple” stage early in their career than they have been during the “open the door and see all the people” phase brought on by the runaway hit “Use Somebody.”
On “The Face” Caleb urges us over and over again to simply “ride out the wave.” That’s what KOL are doing on this record, and that’s what their real fans will do with them. Come Around Sundown does come at you in waves, and true fans will find this record is a grower and will likely get stronger once you’ve seen the new songs played live. So the only message I’d have for the guys for the next album is to stick out the hitchhiker thumb, grab a Sharpie and make a NASHVILLE OR BUST sign, and “come home” for an entire record. Both “Back Down South” and “Radioactive” show this is where the band’s real magic is.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
80. The Perfect Score for Living Hard.
This week George Steinbrenner died at the ripe old age of 80. This reminded me of an exercise I went through a few years back. As grim as it sounds, at one point I gave a bit of thought to how long I’d like to live. At one point even turning it into a math problem of sorts.
At the time I concluded that I wanted the ideal balance of living hard and living long. I don’t want to turn in the car at the Hertz counter of life and have the gas topped off and nary a dent. I also don’t want to run out of gas on the side of the road. Rather I’d like to coast in on fumes with CDs on the seats and beef jerky on the breath.
Now it’s difficult to find an entire country or tribe who as a group lives hard. The best example I could find was the Rat Pack. In Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Sammy Davis Jr., Peter Lawford, and Joey Bishop we had 5 guys who lettered in living hard. Guys who drank, ate, smoked, and wore colored sport coats. Guys who put salt on their food before they tasted it. Guys who slapped your face a bit too hard when they said hello and goodbye. Guys who chased women. Guys who called a spade a spade. Guys who handed out nicknames and hundreds to everyone they passed by. Guys who soaked up beauty, music, and humor.
So I looked it up. How long did each member of the Rat Pack live?
Frank lived to 82.
Dean lived to 78
Sammy lived to be 64
Peter Lawford lived to be 61
Joey Bishop lived to be 89
Divided by 5 that equals 74.8. But I was mostly focused on Dean and Frank and 80 is right between them. So that was it. If you live the right way, you should only live to be about 80. Maybe a touch less.
And I’m OK with that, because I think that’s the right amount. The human body is a pretty amazing vessel being able to endure what we put it through. If you live to 80 you’re getting 20-25 years of the golden grandparent time, yet it’s still short enough to leave them wanting more.
In a lot of the reports on Steinbrenner’s death they refer to his “animal spirit,” one reporter calling him equal parts boor and buccaneer. I’d take that as a compliment. I once had a psychic tell me that I shouldn’t let go of my “leopard side of life.” She was referring to the realization that we’re only on this earth for a short time and we should devour it. We should live hard.
Before I studied abroad in Australia my junior year of college I’ll never forget an older student (who had just returned from Australia) stumbling up to me at a party drunk and with wild eyes. He grabbed me by the shirt and said simply, “Do Everything.”
The difference with people like Steinbrenner and the Rat Pack is they took that “Do Everything” approach to their entire life not just a Saturday or a semester abroad. They lived hard. And while they may have only made it to about 80, their obituaries aren’t about regular guys named Frank and George – rather they’re about larger-than-life characters named The Chairman and The Boss. Rest in Peace.
At the time I concluded that I wanted the ideal balance of living hard and living long. I don’t want to turn in the car at the Hertz counter of life and have the gas topped off and nary a dent. I also don’t want to run out of gas on the side of the road. Rather I’d like to coast in on fumes with CDs on the seats and beef jerky on the breath.
Now it’s difficult to find an entire country or tribe who as a group lives hard. The best example I could find was the Rat Pack. In Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Sammy Davis Jr., Peter Lawford, and Joey Bishop we had 5 guys who lettered in living hard. Guys who drank, ate, smoked, and wore colored sport coats. Guys who put salt on their food before they tasted it. Guys who slapped your face a bit too hard when they said hello and goodbye. Guys who chased women. Guys who called a spade a spade. Guys who handed out nicknames and hundreds to everyone they passed by. Guys who soaked up beauty, music, and humor.
So I looked it up. How long did each member of the Rat Pack live?
Frank lived to 82.
Dean lived to 78
Sammy lived to be 64
Peter Lawford lived to be 61
Joey Bishop lived to be 89
Divided by 5 that equals 74.8. But I was mostly focused on Dean and Frank and 80 is right between them. So that was it. If you live the right way, you should only live to be about 80. Maybe a touch less.
And I’m OK with that, because I think that’s the right amount. The human body is a pretty amazing vessel being able to endure what we put it through. If you live to 80 you’re getting 20-25 years of the golden grandparent time, yet it’s still short enough to leave them wanting more.
In a lot of the reports on Steinbrenner’s death they refer to his “animal spirit,” one reporter calling him equal parts boor and buccaneer. I’d take that as a compliment. I once had a psychic tell me that I shouldn’t let go of my “leopard side of life.” She was referring to the realization that we’re only on this earth for a short time and we should devour it. We should live hard.
Before I studied abroad in Australia my junior year of college I’ll never forget an older student (who had just returned from Australia) stumbling up to me at a party drunk and with wild eyes. He grabbed me by the shirt and said simply, “Do Everything.”
The difference with people like Steinbrenner and the Rat Pack is they took that “Do Everything” approach to their entire life not just a Saturday or a semester abroad. They lived hard. And while they may have only made it to about 80, their obituaries aren’t about regular guys named Frank and George – rather they’re about larger-than-life characters named The Chairman and The Boss. Rest in Peace.
Monday, May 3, 2010
Soda Fountain of Youth
I’m 35. I live in White Bear and work in downtown Minneapolis. One of the highlights of my day is going out of the office to grab some lunch. My wife has had trouble grasping the importance of “eating out” for lunch. And I’ll confess that a few of the brown bags she’s packed me may still be sitting in our office refrigerator waiting for the quarterly purge from the cleaning crew. Eating lunch out of the office is almost like “recess” for grown ups. It’s amazing how a brisk walk around the skyways or sidewalks (especially when the Thursday Farmers’ Market is in season) can reset your day out of the doldrums.
When I do treat myself to grown up recess, one Minneapolis lunch place I love is Ginelli’s for some good old fashioned styrofoam plate and plastic utensils pizza. On a recent trip to Ginelli’s I was surprised to find a little wisdom at of all places, the soda fountain. Before you suggest the aspartame has gone to my head, consider that it’s possible to accurately describe the stage of life you’re in based on your approach at the soda fountain.
Take me for example. That’s right the same 35 year old who has to rationalize eating lunch out or risk the risk the adult detention consequence of the brown bag. What phase of life am I in? That’s easy. I’m in the fill the cup mostly full with Diet Coke before splashing a little regular Coke or Cherry Coke on top years. This mix allows me to feel like I’m drinking pop without actually drinking pop. What does that say about me? Well clearly I’m in the “it’s not about me” phase of life. OK sure, I’ll allow myself a little splash of the real thing on top, but mostly I’m focused on holding it all together. That’s what happens when you have an eight year old and a twelve year old both in sports. We’re the parents who actually buy those oversized calendars where each day has its own square big enough to fit a regular sized calendar in it. And once we fill in all of the kids activities the only blank squares left each year are December 24 and 25 – unless God forbid someone at the new rink in Vadnais comes up with a Santa’s Slapshot Tournament. And we are not alone. In general it’s safe to call age 30 to about age 50 the 7/8ths Diet cola with 1/8th splash of the real thing so you feel like you’re living years. The 1/8th splash might come in the form on an annual guys trip, date night, or letting loose at your summer party. Any way it comes enjoy it, it’s all you’re getting.
Compare that to ages 0 to 29 when the approach at the soda fountain is to take a cup and fill it with a little bit of everything. The kids call this drink a “suicide,” but I think it’s far more optimistic time of your life. There was a great headline in a recent airline advertisement which asked a simple but haunting question, “When was the last time you did something for the first time?” That question is a beautiful reminder of our formative years growing up when the oversized calendar squares are all about you, and every experience is a new experience. Your job is to drink up life and keep pressing levers. Sample, mix, burp and repeat. If adults are set in their ways and see the world in black and white – anyone under 30 is growing up way to fast if they don’t see the world through Technicolor glasses.
While the suicide days of my youth have passed, don’t feel sorry for me. I still have one soda fountain stage to look forward to. Look in anyone’s refridgerator over the age of 50 (or certainly 60) and you’ll likely find whole milk and not a drop of diet soda. That’s because when we become empty nesters and our kids go to college it’s time to get a bit selfish again and rediscover ourselves at the soda fountain. Our later years are about replacing experimentation with experience. After 50 years you should have been paying enough attention to know what you like. And you reach a point in your life where it makes more sense to count blessings than calories. It’s time to once again fill the glass with Coke Classic and crushed ice, not compromise.
I read a great quote from Jack Nicholson that captured the honesty of the golden years, “With my sunglasses on I'm Jack Nicholson. Without them, I'm fat and 60.” I love that. From age 50 on it’s no longer about cutting corners or holding your breath. You know what you like, you know the trade offs and you make decisions accordingly. And there’s something cool in the confidence that can only come from age and experience. I remember asking my grandmother once why she drank whole milk when the whole world was switching to 2% or skim. She didn’t stutter, “Whole milk is better, and it’s what I like” she said.
So the next time you find yourself searching in vein for the fountain of youth, remember you can learn more from the soda fountain. Namely sometimes it’s about you, and sometimes it’s not. But either way life is all about pushing new levers and filling your cup. And if we’re lucky, free refills.
When I do treat myself to grown up recess, one Minneapolis lunch place I love is Ginelli’s for some good old fashioned styrofoam plate and plastic utensils pizza. On a recent trip to Ginelli’s I was surprised to find a little wisdom at of all places, the soda fountain. Before you suggest the aspartame has gone to my head, consider that it’s possible to accurately describe the stage of life you’re in based on your approach at the soda fountain.
Take me for example. That’s right the same 35 year old who has to rationalize eating lunch out or risk the risk the adult detention consequence of the brown bag. What phase of life am I in? That’s easy. I’m in the fill the cup mostly full with Diet Coke before splashing a little regular Coke or Cherry Coke on top years. This mix allows me to feel like I’m drinking pop without actually drinking pop. What does that say about me? Well clearly I’m in the “it’s not about me” phase of life. OK sure, I’ll allow myself a little splash of the real thing on top, but mostly I’m focused on holding it all together. That’s what happens when you have an eight year old and a twelve year old both in sports. We’re the parents who actually buy those oversized calendars where each day has its own square big enough to fit a regular sized calendar in it. And once we fill in all of the kids activities the only blank squares left each year are December 24 and 25 – unless God forbid someone at the new rink in Vadnais comes up with a Santa’s Slapshot Tournament. And we are not alone. In general it’s safe to call age 30 to about age 50 the 7/8ths Diet cola with 1/8th splash of the real thing so you feel like you’re living years. The 1/8th splash might come in the form on an annual guys trip, date night, or letting loose at your summer party. Any way it comes enjoy it, it’s all you’re getting.
Compare that to ages 0 to 29 when the approach at the soda fountain is to take a cup and fill it with a little bit of everything. The kids call this drink a “suicide,” but I think it’s far more optimistic time of your life. There was a great headline in a recent airline advertisement which asked a simple but haunting question, “When was the last time you did something for the first time?” That question is a beautiful reminder of our formative years growing up when the oversized calendar squares are all about you, and every experience is a new experience. Your job is to drink up life and keep pressing levers. Sample, mix, burp and repeat. If adults are set in their ways and see the world in black and white – anyone under 30 is growing up way to fast if they don’t see the world through Technicolor glasses.
While the suicide days of my youth have passed, don’t feel sorry for me. I still have one soda fountain stage to look forward to. Look in anyone’s refridgerator over the age of 50 (or certainly 60) and you’ll likely find whole milk and not a drop of diet soda. That’s because when we become empty nesters and our kids go to college it’s time to get a bit selfish again and rediscover ourselves at the soda fountain. Our later years are about replacing experimentation with experience. After 50 years you should have been paying enough attention to know what you like. And you reach a point in your life where it makes more sense to count blessings than calories. It’s time to once again fill the glass with Coke Classic and crushed ice, not compromise.
I read a great quote from Jack Nicholson that captured the honesty of the golden years, “With my sunglasses on I'm Jack Nicholson. Without them, I'm fat and 60.” I love that. From age 50 on it’s no longer about cutting corners or holding your breath. You know what you like, you know the trade offs and you make decisions accordingly. And there’s something cool in the confidence that can only come from age and experience. I remember asking my grandmother once why she drank whole milk when the whole world was switching to 2% or skim. She didn’t stutter, “Whole milk is better, and it’s what I like” she said.
So the next time you find yourself searching in vein for the fountain of youth, remember you can learn more from the soda fountain. Namely sometimes it’s about you, and sometimes it’s not. But either way life is all about pushing new levers and filling your cup. And if we’re lucky, free refills.
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