Rubber Factory is
more raw-assed, unrefined rock and blues from the Black Keys, and that’s
good news. Even better news is the fact that the two-man wrecking crew of guitarman
Dan Auerbach and drummer Patrick Carney throw a few monkey
wrenches into the basic Black Keys formula—sludgy, electric soul with a
coffin lid backbeat—but they don’t fuck up the record in the slightest.
Opener “When the Lights Go Out” lurches on a drag-stomp zombie beat and
brittle acoustic slide, and this pass at mournful blues could’ve gone
totally wrong, but to the Keys’ credit, sounds as authentically spooky as
any pre-WWII field recording. Same goes for a sunny shuffle through the
Kinks’ “Act Nice and Gentle,” but as with their pass at the
Beatles’ “She
Said, She Said” on Thickfreakness, the band gets to the countrified heart
of the tune and makes it their own. Otherwise, it’s business as usual on
Rubber Factory—loping, jagged sheets of hill country funk set to shaking
on an undeniable ass-rocking beat. The title’s industrial allusion is
right on the money for The Black Keys—this is hard-working,
grit-under-the-nails rock and roll, forged with heat and soot and sweat
and steel. Perfect for rent parties, demolition derbies, dry hump sessions
and sweat shop overthrows.
Rubber Factory is
more raw-assed, unrefined rock and blues from the Black Keys, and that’s
good news. Even better news is the fact that the two-man wrecking crew of guitarman
Dan Auerbach and drummer Patrick Carney throw a few monkey
wrenches into the basic Black Keys formula—sludgy, electric soul with a
coffin lid backbeat—but they don’t fuck up the record in the slightest.
Opener “When the Lights Go Out” lurches on a drag-stomp zombie beat and
brittle acoustic slide, and this pass at mournful blues could’ve gone
totally wrong, but to the Keys’ credit, sounds as authentically spooky as
any pre-WWII field recording. Same goes for a sunny shuffle through the
Kinks’ “Act Nice and Gentle,” but as with their pass at the
Beatles’ “She
Said, She Said” on Thickfreakness, the band gets to the countrified heart
of the tune and makes it their own. Otherwise, it’s business as usual on
Rubber Factory—loping, jagged sheets of hill country funk set to shaking
on an undeniable ass-rocking beat. The title’s industrial allusion is
right on the money for The Black Keys—this is hard-working,
grit-under-the-nails rock and roll, forged with heat and soot and sweat
and steel. Perfect for rent parties, demolition derbies, dry hump sessions
and sweat shop overthrows.