Brothers,
the Black Keys
When I saw the Black Keys live, I was at a concert festival
with my older brother, his girlfriend – before they started dating, and before
she and I became friends, and a group of my brother’s friends who adopted me at
various points in time during my life.
Every time I hear anything by the Black Keys, I instantly think of that
friend-type-family that is important, because you chose it.
They’ve been a staple in my “top five favorite bands” for
years now. The sound is endless,
timeless, big and small at the same time.
Most people don’t really chose their favorite band as their desert
island album. Mine fluctuated
between Arcade Fire’s The Suburbs,
another one of my favorite artists;
Brothers, the album that combines classic rock and contemporary soul; and
R.E.M.’s Automatic for the People. The last one is my dad’s choice, mostly
because it reminds him of when my brother and I were little, and he was
teaching us how to ski at his Dad’s house in Twain Harte. Better, simpler, younger days, when
everything seemed a bit easier.
That’s the beauty of music, albums can remind you of
beautiful things, and when the melancholy wears off, you’re left with a
beautiful song. A desert island
album can’t be something that just tears at the heartstrings though. It must be something you can listen to,
over and over, without stopping, and each time you hear it, you get a different
message. You can listen just for
the music, you can listen for just the lyrics, you can listen to it all, and it
never gets old.
“I wanted love, I needed love, most of all,” they wail in
“Tighten Up”, the 3rd song on the album. “Someone said, true love was dead. And I’m bound to fall for you.” Love songs you can listen to without being in love. The guitar sound almost harsh, and the
drums are relentless. Tune out the
lyrics and you have pure classic rock.
The first time I heard “Howling for You”, on the radio in
southern California, driving my Grandpa’s beat up old Hyundai complete with
handicap plates, I turned the radio up, roared down the PCH with the windows
down, and sang along with the lyrics.
It was as though I had heard this song before, but I hadn’t. The sound is at once old school and
contemporary, and can fill many musical cravings. So long as you’re craving something loud, lovely and
musical.
Then there’s “Black Mud”, the instrumental blues piece that
you can’t help but close your eyes and rock your head to the beat. Close your eyes and the Panamanian heat
grows more intense and bearable, because you’re immediately in the south, fifty
years ago, in a smoke filled bar with blues playing on the stage. “Too Afraid to Love You” follows in
this same vein. A sad, slow love
song, “the never ending mile after mile.
I just don’t know what to do; I’m too afraid to love you.” What is a rock album without the song
of unrequited love? And stuck on a
desert island, who can’t relate to “I wish loneliness would leave me, but I
think it’s here to stay”?
Back in college, my first Black Keys experience was through
a ski movie. I’m sure my brother
played them for me before – most of my new music comes from him or his friends
– but the first time they resonated, was watching a skier turn in slow motion
as “When the Lights Go out” plays in the background. I know that song isn’t on this album, but the memories are
important.
Desert island playlists can go two ways. One: picking an album that reminds you
of better times, better people, better memories – better than being stuck on
the island. Two: picking something
that reminds you of nothing. I’ve
got the best of both worlds in this one.
Fifteen tracks, going through all the different kinds of rock from the
ages. I have classic Black Keys,
innovative Black Keys, reminiscent of old rock and blues while continuing
forward in the musical time. Give
me Brothers, a notebook and an
endless supply of water, and I can survive the desert island. I’ll just close my eyes to the music,
and I’m by myself, and surrounded by my friends.
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