Review: The Black Keys – “El Camino”

Jesus, it's like it's like they had a 'Complete Idiot's Guide to Hipster Appeal' on their night stand.

The Black Keys’ seventh album warrants quite a bit of reflection on their career, and not just in the fact that this band has existed for all of ten years now and have released as many albums as they have, but how they’ve grown in this environment. Most notably, the Black Keys now have one more album on their oft-compared blues-punk, garage rock contemporaries, the White Stripes, who have broken up and left on a note of high concept art. The Black Keys, meanwhile, have stayed steadfast in their ways of producing records chock full of rough-edged juke and blues that is so traditionalist (even among the distortion and feedback), that even the keep-it-simple style the Stripes have become synonymous with looks complicated. But, much like the Stripes, they couldn’t go on making the same records forever, and upon achieving major label status (and releasing the terrific and ambitious, but still traditional, Magic Potion), they decided to make a giant leap forward and drop the true blues style for a poppier, yet somehow hazier sound, and pick up Danger Mouse as producer for Potion‘s follow up, Attack and Release. And with a bigger sound and a few trophies under their belt (and, yes, like Jack White, a move to Tennessee), the Black Keys embark on the follow up to their wildly successful album, Brothers.

And it’s from there that we tell the rest of our story (after the jump).

Catching Up to 2010: Electric Comic Book Looks Back.

There’s no real reason to be snippy about how pointless it is to look back on an entire year’s worth of music and say what’s best and what was crap. There is reasonable suspicion, however, when three of the nation’s most trusted music criticism sources unanimously agree that the best album of the year is also the one most recently released. It was also the one most hyped to a point of being inescapable, just by the man’s sheer public persona. A well-oiled PR machine trumps talent, I suppose.

But could it also be that the great majority of the music, by and large, has been absolutely forgettable? Every list this year looks the same — and while that may not be a huge shocker to some, there is usually some major discrepancy among different publications. So take that with a grain of salt: the year’s best album is the one made by the guy who’s constantly hyping himself and keeping himself present in the public’s consciousness. Shocker? No. Just really disappointing.

But this is Electric Comic Book, damn it. We’re not here to debate the merits of music other than true-blue, red-blooded rock and roll, or even debase those other genres simply because it’s mainstream. That’s for the above linked critics to take care of when they’re feeling bad about themselves to do.

Instead, what we’re gonna do is go back. We’re going to take a look at some of the records we missed over the year, and judge them as if they all came out yesterday. There is no list here; only harsh scrutiny at the things that really matter to you and me. What are those things? Well. . . B.P. Fallon answers, the things we believe in.

I believe in Elvis Presley. I believe in Jerry Lee. I believe in Dr. Winston. I believe in you and me.