The Kills address the greatest human canard

The Kills duo are well aware that the reality is redundant, the singer/occasional guitarist/tambourine-shaker in particular. Florida with acres of (Disney and other) themed amusement parks versus pensioners, happy sunshine opposed by regular hurricane tragedies, truth against the other Bush son governed State’s state of mind, is the place whence VV (Alison) moved from to settle in London, with a local boy Hotel (Jamie).

Contrary to the backdrop dictated by AmeriVision that is imposed in a form of cultural imperialism… upon the world, The Kills’ aim is to make a soundtrack for it that conquers the past, straddles the present and bravely walks off into the distance… far from the Uncle Sam’s parallel universe that is conveniently obscured, partial and tailored for myopic views from a porch with a flag super-patriotically flapping in the wind… It is almost like there is a truth and there is the US version.

On another level, not many genuine rock-babes [unless the plastic appeal of Gwen Stefani is your hormonal masseuse] have ever been promoted in rock biz and VV continues the valiant effort of such pioneers as Patti Smith, Chrissie Hynde, PJ Harvey, and somewhat - Shirley Manson of Garbage… And, she provides greater ocular stimulation than any of the ladeez mentioned…

Lunching with the title cut, it is one huge feast of sounds that hit low, intrigue highly and rock your trainers as they search for a connection/reasons/impetus for punk turning into disco some thirty years ago. The Kills see this LP as a [musical] journey from the famed CBGB to Studio 54 that is not adverse to the rest of the musical encyclopaedia, from minimalism to debauchery, as in their ‘The Good Ones’ video clip. In social terms - from a roll-up to queuing coke…

It all starts with mutated blues but it is far from a simple renaissance of the genre. The guitar fires licks like tomorrow never comes in a setting that is equally rough, dirty, raw and still engaging and soul-warming as a tea-cosy. These 11 tracks are set around a drum machine that sounds so common nowadays and, although Hotel and VV find ways to get round its limitations and structure songs to humanize the mechanical effect, one wonders what they could do if Dave Grohl came in for a sitting.

‘No Wow’ ought to dispel The White Stripe comparison even further as this is rockier/more garagey rather than bluesier. Despite the girl-boy set-up, The Kills kick harder, Hotel plays rock-type guitar rather than the Robert Johnson variation [dragged into the XXI century] with VV delivering her vocal in a variety of positions…

‘Love Is A Deserter’ finds her in fighting mood, ‘Sweet Cloud’ is heavy with hypnotic bass-ness to floor you, ‘Murdermile’ contrasts rocktastic basis with an unhinged female vocal [Siouxsie Sioux comes to mind] that is seductive as much as destructive and calmed by responding male vox. ‘Ticket Man’ takes a more bluesy route that ends with steps walking out of a room…

The album is named after the two’s conversation led them to a conclusion that there is “No wow” in culture anymore. And, lack of spontaneity: so, this album was written in less than three weeks and completed within 3 months. Yep, that’s what Rock’n’Roll is all about, emotional nudity and spirited gut-spilling.

8/10

‘Limited Edition’ comes preloaded with ‘45 Minute Film About The Band’ and ’Live Footage’.