By Steve Weinstein
By Bryan Bierman
By Lindsey Rhoades
By Chaz Kangas
By Ben Westhoff and Sarah Purkrabek
By Jena Ardell
By Jesse Sendejas Jr.
By Katherine Turman
Then again, Kings of Leon have always done an amazing job of asserting themselves without necessarily having the goods, and that's kind of the essence of rock 'n' roll. Nothing ironic here: The Southern band of (mostly) brothers favors lyrics almost exclusively about fucking, fighting, and drinking, powered by brawling guitar riffs and locomotive strength. They also have a funny, distinctly glam way of toying with rock conventions of masculinity: In one moment Caleb sang about underage girls, and in the next he was yowling about cross-dressing and erectile dysfunction. "Soft"their whiskey-dick lamentwas played at twice its normal speed, with the band just barely holding onto the reins as it sped happily toward premature ejaculation. All told, the Kings fit almost three albums' worth of material (all they have, really) into an hour and a half.
So what's wrong with all that? Rock, corrupted by the effect of big concepts on small minds, already has too many preening voice-of-a-generation poseursand not enough bullshit artists. Paradoxically, the greater the Kings' sonic ambitions become, the less they have to say. In new tunes like "Charmer"a histrionic vamp that sounds like "Pretty Woman" gone death metallanguage falls entirely by the wayside. At Roseland, Caleb pretty much screamed his way through the whole song.
Essentially, the Kings' new Because of the Times is an experiment in how far the Kings can go fueled by meat-and-potatoes rock traditions, style, and the sheer force of their own presence. More often than not, that's pretty far. The funny thing about this band is that all the things about them that people deridethe clichés, the arrogance, the simplicityare the same things others celebrate as classic rock 'n' roll brilliance. Caleb is skinny enough to fit somewhere in between.