The Black Keys’ Dan Auerbach and Patrick Carney have come a long way since the day they took a break from mowing a customer’s lawn to read about themselves in Rolling Stone magazine. Their debut album, The Big Come Up, was a critical, if not commercial, success and won fans’ respect for its lo-fi, under-produced sound. That the duo could generate such a complete sound with just a guitar and a drum kit is remarkable enough; that the formula sounds as cool after four albums suggests that their most recent album, Magic Potion, is aptly named.
They’re supported on their current tour by The Kill Devil Hills, a WA six-piece whose sound was probably a surprise to all but those familiar with them. Comprised on the night of electric and acoustic guitars, bass, drums, mandolin and fiddle, they rollicked between Celtic folk, swamp rock, country rock and something I would play for anyone who asked me, What would Nirvana have sounded like had Kurt grown up in Nashville? Though at times they exceeded a support act’s license for self-indulgence, their uniquely gritty mash of raucous rock and howling roots sounds will undoubtedly have brought some trade at the merchandise table.
The break between the support and headline acts was so long that I considered investing in a sensible pair of Hush Puppies. When a drunken boys’ basketball team encamped in front of me, I considered the fashion merits of straight-legged jeans with platforms. But suddenly the Black Keys were on stage, Dan Auerbach was hurling himself into Thickfreakness and the boys were playing air guitar and high-fiving.
As the sound of drum skins being beaten like a broken-down Datsun continued into 10 A.M. Automatic, I knew Patrick Carney was on stage. The teeming swell had prevented me getting any closer, so all I would see of Carney for the whole show was his hair.
Auerbach, however, was unmissable. As inarguably solid though Carney’s stick work was, Auerbach’s energy was fixating. His voice is distinctive on record, and even more emotive live, but it’s his guitar riffing that defines the Keys’ sound. There isn’t another band in the world that has had more success in contemporising the blues for generation X and Y audiences. And the varied age of those at The Gov proved that they haven’t alienated older punters by compromising their influences. The dirty, percussive blues riffs of the Keys’ Fat Possum Records label-mate, full-time truck driver and part-time blues stringer Junior Kimbrough, remain as much an influence on this tour as they did on null The Big Come Up tracks like Busted and Run Me Down. If Kimbrough could solo like Auerbach did on Grown So Ugly, he might have given up his day job years before.
