Why can't I get into this album? Let's face it, a quick glance at THE KILLS' credentials suggests it should be right up your reviewer's alley seeing as he's usually a staunch admirer of all things garage-y, dirty and minimal: bases The Kills seem to have got covered in the making of "Keep On Your Mean Side".
Besides, they've obviously quickly mastered the art of establishing the requisite rock'n'roll ID cards. Although they're actually called Alison and Jamie, they insist - in true 'Comic Strip Presents' tradition - in being referred to as VV and Hotel (not Vim, thankfully); they've also toured and trashed equipment with Primal Scream and - best of all - have laid down the tracks for this album at Liam Watson's Toe Rag Studios in London's East End - the very mecca used by dearly beloved Jack and Meg for recording their much-acclaimed "Elephant."
All column inch-winning stuff, then. The trouble is, when you begin to scrape away the hastily applied rock'n'roll veneer, there's precious little substance lurking beneath. Despite the de rigeur Charley Patton-exhuming riffs and all the sneery, mascara-ed posturing, it seems The Kills really have bugger all to say.
OK, "Keep On Your Mean Side" isn't an unmitigated disaster. Indeed, there are a small clutch of tracks that suggest things could get rosier around here. For the proof, try "Kissy Kissy", where a nicely lysergic, mantra-style aura (reminiscent of the third Velvets album) takes over; or "Black Rooster" ("she got a rattlesnake gun in the basement") where the sexual tension for once is palpable; or the rattleabilly punky blues of "Fuck The People". Sure, the title's a standard sneery platitude, but the wheezy harmonica and arrogant chord changes rein me in here.
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The remainder, though, is either way too obvious or mediocre by half. I was trying to avoid calling them 'White Stripes lite', but frankly songs like "Superstition," "Pull A U" and "Hitched" can't dispel this over-riding impression, despite their desperate attempts to butch up their bicep-building fuzz blues riffs. Somehow I can't see Page and Plant shitting themselves - or Jack and Meg White for that matter. Frankly,until The Kills can write something to rival "We're Going To Be Friends" or "Hello Operator", then this is going to be a fruitless exercise, whatever the hyperbole says.
So there you have it. Our easily-pleased 21st Century media seem to have deemed it undeniable that The Kills will ride on The White Stripes coat tails with their credibility intact and that they'll be mentioned in a lineage that includes great bassless outfits like The Cramps and The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion. At least on the evidence of "Keep On Your Mean Side" this seems both premature and a grave error. To these ears, it's purely style over substance and that's not good enough at all.
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