Kings Of Leon: Aha Shake Heartbreak

By RUSSELL BAILLIE

(Herald rating: * * * * )


The Kings of Leon arrived last year with debut Youth and Young Manhood sounding like the weirdest retro-collision in rock in recent memory - 70s southern boogie meets New Wave New York art-school.

That's still the way they sound on the follow-up. Only much better.

Aha Shake is the sound of the Followill clan - who, if they are to be believed, are three brothers and a cousin raised on the road by their father, a defrocked preacher - taking the garage rock manifesto and warping it.

They may be based in Nashville, but it sounds as if the Kings of Leon are embracing their Big Apple - and Anglo - influences even more.

You still get an album that cusses a lot, and yodels some, while giving Franz Ferdinand a run for its money as the most enjoyable set of twitchy rock you'll hear this year.

Frontman Caleb might have shaved for the occasion but his diction sure hasn't improved any.

It's almost a pity there's a lyric sheet as the misheard interpretations can be entertainment in themselves. And less dubious, too, especially as it sounds like the temptations of the road have proved too much for these alleged good ol' boys.

But Caleb has still got some good lines, even if he seems curiously anxious about premature hair loss - "she saw my comb-over" he frets in Milk and "18, balding, star, golden fallen heart" he proclaims in Bucket.

And he's got some funny ideas about what makes his ideal woman: "She'll loan you her toothbrush and she'll bartend your party," he muses, again in Milk, one of a couple of ballads which remind of an out-take from Nirvana's Unplugged set.

The comparisons get stranger from there. Opener Slow Night So Long sounds like a tribute to the famous intro of Joy Division's Love Will Tear Us Apart.

King of the Rodeo's use of the line "Let the good times roll" suggests the Cars' hit as played by demented hillbillies, and Taper Jean Girl reminds of garage rock Strokes, albeit that band being fronted by a particularly sozzled Tom Petty.

Pistol of Fire is two minutes-plus of southern boogie featuring a perfect eight-bar riot of a guitar solo (from Jared Followill) and Caleb's repeated howl of "aiyah" should get a place in The Dictionary of Phrases That Only Make Sense In Rock'n'Roll.

There's filigree guitar seemingly borrowed from Television's Marquee Moon on Soft, an apparent ode to erectile dysfunction.

But that spot of bother doesn't stop Caleb adding a wee yodel to the next track, Day Old Blues ("Girls are gonna love the way I toss my hair / boys are gonna hate the way I seem"), before it boogies violently (Four Kicks), square-dances (Velvet Snow), then ends with a strung-out waltz (Rememo).

It's hilarious. But musically there's more here than most of their garage rock contemporaries, whose two albums are one too many.

You get the feeling the Followills will be letting their freak-flag fly high for a good while yet.

Label: RCA