Keep it in the family
by Paul Tyree-Francis, ArtsEtc. writer
It’s a bird! It’s a plane! It’s CCR circa 1969! Just when rock and roll needed a good ol’-fashioned cock punching comes Kings of Leon and their hot-off-the-presses Youth & Young Manhood, a welcoming stew of just about every rockin’ influence one can think of. Trying to place lead singer Caleb Followill’s slurry vocals is difficult enough, as they fall somewhere between Mick and the Stones, Iggy and the Stooges, and just about every deep-fried Southern vocalist from Chris Robinson to Ronnie Van Zant. Just about two-thirds of the time one can’t understand a goddamned word of Followill’s mumbling/ screaming.
Perhaps the most welcoming feature of KOL is that pressing play on Y&YM brings about at least one “Who is this?” from a patron of whatever room one’s in, followed by a healthy helping of foot movement and then a good dose of rocking out. Who are these pleasantly disheveled, Stillwater (of Almost Famous)-looking lads?
KOL is comprised of three brothers, Caleb, Jared, and Nathan, and cousin Matthew. The brothers are sons of Pentecostal evangelist Leon Followill, from whom their name is derived (well partly, as their grandfather is also named Leon). Yeah, they’re keeping it in the family, and I guess that’s part southern tradition, but perhaps that’s why they rock so hard. They say they have this chemistry out of love and the fact that they have been in a permanent school for a total of one year. The brothers spent up until about 1998 on the road between Oklahoma City and Memphis with their father, traveling from church to church, which is where KOL got its start.
Evidently, southern Pentecostal churches involve lots of “hootin’ and hollerin’,” as this is where KOL began. Says Nathan Followill, “There are lots of elements of [playing in churches] in KOL. Because basically in church you’re not up there for show; you’re just up there to provide for the service. You become so close when you’re playing; it’s not like you’re pressured that if you mess up you’re going to be in big trouble … You’re just up there feeling the music, as opposed to worrying the whole time. You’d be amazed at the way we’d play in church. I mean, it was rockin’ — 15-minute songs, people out there dancing. Getting with it.”
Perhaps this is a reason that the band members seem so down-to-earth. They purport that they aren’t cocky, and though they play staggering rock music, one is inclined to believe them. The record speaks for itself. It speaks of growing up a bit, a bit of their past, but really just resonates in a capacity that rock music hasn’t for quite a while. Though garage rock tried to take it there, it couldn’t quite, having been far too enraptured in its own being (with the exclusion of a handful of artists, namely the White Stripes.)
Perhaps the commonality between the two is coming from nothing and having nothing to lose. Music speaks the loudest when it comes out of nowhere, when it isn’t superceded by hype, when one is persuaded by the first song on a record to forget about the neighbors and crank it.
Every song on Youth & Young Manhood is a single. The faster songs crescendo when it’s needed and throw a fist in the air whenever possible. The slower songs don’t even drag. Standouts include “Red Morning Light,” “California Waiting” and “Molly’s Chambers,” but they’re all quite good. It’s a bit tried and true, but it’s not often that a band releases a major-label debut album with a distinct sound and a buzz solely based on their music.
