KEY POINTS:
Rating: * * *
Over three albums the Kings Of Leon have taken great delight in revelling in their southern rock roots to create a sound that fires up the rebel within.
First there was the defiant 2003 debut Youth and Young Manhood, then the boisterous Aha Shake Heartbreak in
2005, and while last year's Because Of The Times was more polished, it still had delicious mongrel moments like McFearless and Charmer.
And their off-the-record antics have also been intriguing - from the story of the three Followill brothers being sons of a travelling preacher man to their rock star larks a few years back when success went to their heads. And rightly so, because what else are a bunch of young rock 'n' roll stars expected to do but go out, get laid, and then sing about it?
However, on the Nashville, Tennessee quartet's fourth album life is a little different, it seems. They've grown up a bit and got the shagging out of their systems.
So on Only By the Night the Kings Of Leon are more likely to seduce you than work you up into a sweaty, hot-blooded lather.
And while the album is still rooted in southern fried rock 'n' roll, it has a stadium rock grandeur and is clearly aimed at capitalising on the crossover success of Because Of The Times.
It starts off tense, with the brooding alien bleeps of Closer. Then Crawl and first single Sex On Fire is as raunchy as Only By The Night gets.
It's the mid-section where the sweet seduction and the band's claim for stadium rock status begins. Use Somebody, with its distant opening wails and dramatic chords and keyboards, could have been on Coldplay's Viva La Vida; Manhattan melds a boppy bassline, quivering steel guitars, and Native American Indian imagery; and, for the love of a preacher's son, there's even celebratory bells on 17 which are reminiscent of 80s synth pop band Naked Eyes' cover of Always Something There To Remind Me.
Despite that latter reference these songs are among the most accomplished the Followills have written but overall the album becomes too maudlin without more of their thigh-slapping magic.
It's not until the second-to-last track, Be Somebody, where the blood starts boiling again with rumbling drums and frontman Caleb Followill's throaty mantra of "I loosen my tie ... you can't get enough".
At 42 minutes long it's beautifully lean, and songs like Revelry get stuck in your song-whistling subconscious, but the brazen, rebellious spirit of the band's origins are lacking. You long for a little roughness. You know, like a good rub with a healthy growth of stubble? Or a bit of whiskey-soaked sweat beading on your brow?
Still, if this is modern day stadium rock, then all hail the Kings.
Scott Kara