Hey, remember how before they were enormous Kings of Leon were like this spiky little redneck punks who sounded a bit like a Nashville Television? Well it seems to be a fading memory for the Followill Brothers too.
The quartet's seventh album WALLS (it stands for We Are Like Love Songs apparently) plays by the rules that have been inspiring grown men to wear their ties as bandanas for some years now.
In fact, if you play the opening track, Waste a Moment in one window and their uber-hit Sex on Fire in another, you may notice that a) the vocals enter at the exact same moment, b) the harmonic progression = major to relative minor c) the choruses enter after precisely 53 seconds and d) they begin with "wuuuuuh".
What's frustrating about Kings of Leon is you can still discern the jagged corners of the band they sanded away for stadium success: the breakneck changes of Find Me inspire their most alert performance on record for years.
However, for the most part this is half-assed (Reverend, Muchacho) or half-baked: Caleb Followill aims for an Interpol-esque doom on Only, but sinks rustily.
I prescribe a team-building exercise, call in Brian Eno, shake things up a bit.
(Sony)
