When I think of The Black Keys, I think of the 2010 Nintendo DS game FIFA 11. Random, I know, but their song “Tighten Up” is featured on the soundtrack. On lazy weekends when I wasn’t playing soccer myself, I kept busy with virtual trick plays, constant slide tackles and the impossible task of choosing between jersey colors for my team. While my eyes were dazzled by the insanely realistic graphics and gameplay (it was 2010 on the DS, okay?), my ears were unconsciously listening and storing the soundtrack in my brain. “Tighten Up” stuck out the most because the fuzzy guitar wahs buzzed through the tiny speakers on each side of the top screen just enough that I could feel it in my fingers.
The Black Keys has stayed on brand with its buzziness throughout the years, and Peaches! is no exception. If there’s one thing The Black Keys does well, it’s distortion: crunchy guitars, vocals and bass keep their music distinct and instantly recognizable, with Dan Auerbach’s singing standing out.
Peaches! is a cover album. It's a new interpretation of blues and rock artists like Earl Hooker, Junior Kimbrough, Dr. Feelgood/Wilko Johnson, Arthur Crudup, Big Lucky Carter and Willie Griffin. Patrick Carney and Auerbach started playing these songs as uplifting jams after Auerbach’s father was diagnosed with esophageal cancer. Over time the tunes transformed into a living, breathing project.
Let’s start with the singles.
“You Got To Lose” (originally sung by Earl Hooker) has been gaining traction since February here on Studio One, and I, for one, am always excited to see it pop up during my shift. There’s no other way to describe it: It is so obviously The Black Keys. It feels like Auerbach bumped his effects up just a touch, with his voice extra scratchy and sharp, blending seamlessly into his Fender guitar.
“Where There’s Smoke, There’s Fire” (originally sung by Willie Griffin) came out next, with Auerbach loosening up the effects on his voice. The saxophones and guitars are elevated, fuzzy and bright, almost overtaking Auerbach during the choruses. The lyrics are hungry and incendiary, with firefighting as a metaphor for physicality and intimacy.
The rest of the album is similar to the singles, but nothing else really stands out.
Of course, I had to go back and listen to the originals. Blues in the early to mid-1900s was rather straightforward. Many songs follow the same algorithm: say the title of track over and over, move to something vaguely similar to the theme and repeat. The Black Keys added in another level of oomph, with the reimagined sound more gritty and rocky rather than soft and plucky. The duo picked songs with motifs of love and frustration: themes that could go hand-in-hand or tear each other apart. I wonder what was going through Auerbach’s mind when he and Carney were choosing these covers, as there’s obviously grief wound up in this album. I admit, though, I kept waiting for something different and mind-blowing, something that would stop me in my tracks and make me say, 'Now, THIS is something else,' but the album just flew past me.
I thought “Fireman Ring the Bell” (originally sung by R.L. Burnside) and “Nobody But You Baby” (originally sung by Junior Kimbrough) would slap me in the face, shake me and call me a fool, but no dice. Both are over five minutes (“Nobody But You Baby” clocks in at 7:13), which usually indicates diversity and experimentation, but the length unfortunately didn’t differentiate anything. They just stretched out the jam.
The singles are representative of the sound and interpretation of the rest of the songs on the album. I’ve had a lot more time to sit with them and process what I’m hearing, and I imagine as I listen to the album more I'll find it catches me emotionally when I need it. Blues music has been around a long time and sounds simple at first glance, but every blues song is jam-packed with a story and a feeling.
There's nothing earth-shattering with this album, but the duo is paying homage to the pioneers who came before them. Melancholia doesn’t always need complex ideas and allusions in order to be expressed. Sometimes complicating a feeling transforms it into something you don’t even recognize. You can save the intricateness for the music itself.
Still, I fear nothing will ever amount to “Tighten Up” playing alongside a handheld soccer video game on a rainy weekend.
