by B. J. Carter
Coastal Journal Staff

“I don’t care what nobody says/we’re gonna have a baby.”  Welcome to the world of Kings of Leon, probably the best newish American rock band that sounds American.  If you don’t already know it, their backstory is legendary.  The Brothers Followill toured the deep south in a much different fashion when they were kids--their father was a traveling evangelist, taking his boys from sticky-hot backseats of station wagons to sweltering army tents along with him.  Logically, they grew long hair, formidable beards, and formed a swinging blues-rock band with their cousin when they became young men; their debut is called Youth and Young Manhood.

Because of the Times is the risk-taking follow-up to their criminally underrated Aha Shake Heartbreak.  It finds whiz-kid producer Ethan Johns (Ryan Adams) back to man the board on this gnarled classic played in a swamp of reverb, ghostly backing vocals, and Edge-y effects that often sounds as apocalyptic as the title suggests.  In fact, the title comes from the name of a Pentecostal tent revival they used to attend with their dad.  I’m sure he’d be proud.

The end of the world begins with the prospect of fatherhood on “Knocked Up,” a seven minute late-night meditation through country back roads and steady rain.  Where they learned how to hone their pathos into perfect 2:59 pop songs on Heartbreak, they get downright spacey and cinematic on their third album. 

The syncopated drums thump softly enough on “Knocked Up” to conjure the idea of rain hitting a windshield, and a sterling little guitar line plays windshield wiper as the drama unfolds.  “I’m always mad and usually drunk/But I love her like no other,” Brother Caleb murmurs with the quiet desperation of a man just trying to keep the car on the road and an eye on his very pregnant girlfriend passed out in the passenger seat as they drive to Nowhere.  They’re all doomed, especially the unborn child, and you can’t help but pull for them as he frets, “We don’t quite know where we’re gonna go.”  They don’t make songs like this anymore.

Because of the Times splits most of its billing between this kind of spooked, sensitive song and experimental rock hybrids that sound like splintered bits and pieces of songs welded together.  If there’s one sticking point for fans of their earlier albums it’s that these songs sound a little unformed, pitching them closer to the “Yeah Yeah Yeahs” version of indie rock than the Southern-Strokes tab they’ve had a tough time shedding.  But the most successful stadium songs (and make no mistake, KoL was thinking big with this record) are experimental numbers like the “McFearless” and “Camaro.” 

But catharsis is never clean, is it?  “McFearless” nails the gravitas the band strives for with Brother Nathan’s skittering drums, Brother Jared’s see-saw bass line, and skyscraping guitar atmospherics, while “Charmer” is simply one of the stranger songs of 2007.  Brother Caleb howls/screams something like “Whoa” or “Oh” or “Ow” intermittently over grumbling, hulking bass as he cries, “She stole my karma, oh no!”  Not even Karen-O would dare.

They’re still having woman troubles, but where they used to just shrug it off and toss back another beer, now it’s starting to get to them.  This isn’t your usual album about the cons of the fame-game.  There are souls at stake here.  KoL sound concerned that their roguish adventures might be poisoning them.  Because of the Times is all about shouldering responsibility at exactly the moment you’d much rather hop into your rusty Coup de Ville and just run.  “I must show/It’s my show/I must go” Brother Caleb muses on “McFearless,” but he sounds like a man waiting to be convinced.  “On Call” echoes the sentiment in a rousing chorus that entreats “I’ll come a-runnin’” as Cousin Matthew does some soul-searching with a Lynyrd-Skynyrd guitar solo. 

The single best moment comes on the oldtimey “The Runner,” where Brother Caleb decides that the best course of action might be to hunker down and console himself with his Pentecostal past:  “I talk to Jesus/Jesus says I’m OK.”  Well that’s good enough for me.