We are honored and greatly appreciate Mr. Champagne taking the time out of his schedule to write a post for Fell in Love with a Drummer. Hopefully it's not the last. Hope you enjoy.
--Mike
As I steadily approach the unfathomable age of forty that looms just over a year away and as a parent of a four year old daughter who proudly displays an independent streak (which comes from my wife because I am a natural born coward), I have come to terms that my current level of social and cultural awareness can succinctly be described as “late to the party.”
Hence, it seemed only fitting that as I read the Best Albums of 2010 that I give a middle aged shout out to two albums released in 2010 that deserve at the very least honorable mention…on January 29, 2011…
...you get the point.
When I was first introduced to the Kings of Leon two years ago, I did so with the agreement I would listen to their albums in chronological order. I remember being pleasantly surprised by Youth and Young Manhood. The Kings’s debut sounded to me like raw southern garage rock, and, at moments, Caleb Followill’s voice was Dylanesque. By the time I finished listening to their mainstream breakthrough, Only by the Night, I thought I could summarize their catalog by the following: comparing Only by the Night to Because of the Times was the equivalent of Aha Shake Heartbreak to Youth and Young Manhood – lesser efforts that certainly had their moments. "Slow Night So Long" makes me wish I was fifteen years younger on a Friday night while "Sex on Fire" still propels me to pull my car over to the side of the Garden State so I can make out with my wife. Although those albums had their highs, I was still distracted by their lows.
As I prepared to listen to Come Around Sundown, I really wasn’t sure what to expect. It’s been well documented that Kings of Leon have had mixed feelings with regards to finally attaining respect and success in the US. When I listen to the album and I studied the jacket (downloading music without appreciating the jacket is like pouring a bowl of cereal and never glancing at the box), it’s apparent they’ve embraced their fame. On Come Around Sundown, the Kings have created a vehicle that can maintain their mainstream status ("The End," "Radioactive," "Pyro," "The Face") while staying true to their roots and Tennessee flair ("Back Down South," "No Money," "Pickup Truck"). While there are some radio friendly songs, there are no softballs like "Use Somebody" that are merely attempts to garner a following from people who really have no genuine appreciation of music to begin with.
Kings of Leon are a better band than that. The world of modern classic rock is one where a baton is passed. From Townshend to Springsteen, from Bono to Cobain and Vedder, now the baton is in Caleb Followill’s hands...Whether he likes it or not.
My parents were older than my friends’ parents. My mother is 73 and my father would have been 77. As a lover of classic films (was anyone ever more debonair than Cary Grant in Alfred Hitchcock’s North by Northwest?) my father once told me I was born a generation too late. As a result, I have always been a huge fan of the Gaslight Anthem’s 59 Sound. To me, there’s a timeless quality about the Gaslight Anthem. I truly believe their style has a natural appeal whether the listener is in his late teens or late thirties.
This feeling is only reinforced by their sophomore album, American Slang. No one will ever confuse Brian Fallon’s lyrics with Bob Dylan’s songwriting, and yet I am compelled by them. Fallon, in a voice that is reminiscent of a young Springsteen at times, means when he sings,
“And your tattooed knuckles, oh how they grind, try to be a man, tough, just like your father.”
And yet whenever I listen to upbeat favorites like "Stay Lucky," "The Boxer," or even the contemplative "Queen of Lower Chelsea," it’s a bittersweet experience because I am reminded of what my father once said to me. He was right.
And I feel the same way about American Slang as I do the band. The Gaslight Anthem should be huge. Although they are significant today, they should be sold out. But they belong to a different generation. They belong to a time when people truly devoted their time to devouring and dissecting an album repeatedly. Sadly, I truly wonder if The Gaslight Anthem’s 59 Sound and American Slang can be appreciated in an ever increasing world consumed by the 59 sound bite.
