The Black Keys
Black is clearly this year’s colour, what with your Keys and your Lips and your Ghosts and your numerous others. The Keys are the most trumpeted of the lot, on account of the production involvement of Danger Mouse, but this a curiously underwhelming affair, very much aggregational garage rock with occasional odd 10cc-esque moments, and it’s hard to figure exactly what DM is bringing to the table. It doesn’t help that Dan Auerbach sings as if he is attempting to defecate a whole pineapple. There’s nothing wrong with being pained, but nobody wants pineapple-up-arse levels of it.
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