It’s virtually impossible to find a single thing wrong with the seventh effort from rock duo The Black Keys. Not that I was looking for flaws, mind you – I was too caught up in the music to do anything other than enjoy it. But if I was somehow distracted from the relentless pound of Patrick Carney’s drums, and if there was a way I could be diverted from Dan Auerbach’s rasping, freakishly arousing voice and tight riffs, then I’m sure that my initial statement would remain the same.
El Camino starts off with a bang and never lets up. Not even slow and moody “Little Black Submarines” offers a respite from the heart pounding, foot stomping melodies that are used to drive the entire album, since by the second half it picks up as well. And really, that’s just fine by me. Being left breathless and flustered by deliciously raucous rock and roll is exactly my idea of a great time.
In short, the album is like a Southern fried, drizzled in butter and slapped on a biscuit wet dream. And yes, everything comparable to food should be considered a success.