When their songs become boring to the point of annoyance (which inevitably happens on every track), their go-to fix is a reverb-soaked crescendo of guitars accompanied by Followill’s strained voice crying out something forlorn and profound, e.g. Or at least that is what they appear to believe on “Back Down South.” Since the guys hail from Tennessee and their dad is a preacher, that means if they lay down a fiddle track underneath the guitars and repeatedly sing “I’m going back down south now,” then they’re authentic Southern-fried rockers like Lynyrd Skynyrd and have automatic credibility. Sorry, Kings of Leon, but reverb a good record does not make.
Perhaps the band thinks that dousing every chorus and opening guitar riff in reverb gives its music an authentic, serious sound. Lead guitarist Matthew Followill busts out a competent, albeit boring and predictable, guitar solo during the middle eight.Īll the tracks on Sundown have something in common (other than their glaring mediocrity), and that’s reverb. The bluesy ’50s guitar riff and harmonized “aahs” are not enough to distract from the whining scream of Followill’s voice, which he intentionally cracks like a pubescent teenage boy at the end of every chorus. The rhythm recalls The Beatles’ “Oh, Darling!,” but then again, the Fab Four could belch out their lyrics over a xylophone and it would still be more innovative than Kings of Leon. “Mary” is Kings of Leon’s borderline offensive attempt at retro-rock balladry. Lead singer Caleb Followill laments, “This could be the end / Cause I ain’t got a home / I’m out here all alone / I’ll forever roam.” Deep shit. The album begins with “The End.” Those cheeky bastards, could this be a modicum of humor? As the song strides in with screechy, ethereal guitars and then cedes to a lone bass-line and simple drumbeat, you realize there is no intended irony here, just overreaching, inflated stadium production. From the rumpled haircuts that probably cost more than their amplifiers to the skinny pants and the vests worn over bare chests, there is no doubt that these guys worship the idea of being “rock stars.” Nothing Kings of Leon does appears effortless, yet that seems to be precisely the image they desperately want to project.