“Kangaroo Heart”
from the album Fur
2005
Download a free MP3 of “Kangaroo Heart” from The Crutch.net
It’s a bit of a bitch to craft a blues-rock album less obvious than Iggy Pop rolling around in peanut butter. The Black Keys defied most odds last year to accomplish the feat with the excellent Rubber Factory, but their unlikely success might have unfairly overshadowed Fur. The Archie Bronson Outfit cleverly distinguish themselves from their countless bar-trapped peers by adding a bit of a Black Sabbath edge and a touch of psychedelia to their most raucous rawk — and checkmate a lot of the competition in the process.
At first, you might be tempted to tag the ABO as yet another simple-riffing rip-off. Their hooks are brash, loud, and attach themselves to your ears like an insistent saloon whore. However, the extra touches they use to spice up their particular brand of straight-shooting rock are the key to their seduction: “Islands” begins with an ill-auguring repetition of two alternating chords, then drops an extra-sleazy guitar lick in the mix and shifts to doozy of a bar-shaking chorus stomp. Psychedelic feedback hums and strange squawks drive the wordless chorus of “Here He Comes” into red-eyed fury, and the daughter-stealing opening riff of standout “The Wheel Rolls On” benefits from ominous high-pitched guitar hums under its feet, which eventually release their tension into a cataclysmic drumbeat. These smaller songwriting touches, which are repeated on a larger compositional scale to translate into chorus avalanches and earthquake bridges, do wonders for a band that would have a hard time claiming uniqueness in any town.
However, despite the brawling strength of their upfront rock challenges and the wise, smaller elements with which ABO pepper their arrangements, the best indicator of the band’s strength is the quality of their slower moments. Most blues-rock disciples use gentler tempos for breathing space, with little to no substance behind the clichéd ballads that ensue. Not so here; “Bloodheat” and “On the Shore,” evenly dividing the album’s two sides, are no less ominous or charged than their rip-roaring peers. “Bloodheat” is the fucking definition of “swagger,” shaking its hot hips to lilting rhythms and chalky hooks, looking for a poor sap on whom to unload its concealed six-shooter. “On the Shore” actually sports a bittersweet melody at a Will Oldham pace; it’s a well-conceived break from the album’s general focus on six-string riff-slinging and bass bounce.
It goes without saying that a band that trawls the well-plumbed waters of blues-rock isn’t going to find new treasure — but for all the oafs who think they can do this “seedy rawk” stuff with ease, it’s surprising how few blues-rock bands actually remain in the memory. Can you think of more than five of the Archie Bronson Outfit’s peers? Probably not. Most are flavors-of-the-month. With Fur, the Archie Bronson Outfit make a bid for a longer shelf-life, and their debut’s seething urgency will almost certainly lodge in your memory like a hatchet.