Author: Emily Jensen
Let’s have some cheap thrills. Lollipops and cigarettes, madcap teenage hijinks and treacherous automobiles – bad things, things your mother doesn’t approve of, things that rot your teeth and wake the neighbors. It’s time to let loose and be ridiculous – jump on the bed, turn up the stereo and remember what a perfect guitar riff can do for your general well being. It’s time to listen to The Kooks.
The breathless, boyish quality of British pop-rock band and The Kooks’ messy, simple and satisfying first album, Inside In/Inside Out, stems from a genuine source – they’re all still kids. Lead guitarist Hugh Harris only just turned 17, and while his straightforward, basic musicianship is not exactly evidence of baby genius, his lack of experience lends the music an invigorating, juvenile optimism.
The album channels the jaunty, excitable innocence and admitted simplicity of the unsullied early rock that The Beatles started out playing in Hamburg dives, but with more modern, heavy production and a pronounced nod to the calculated sloppiness of classic punk vocal patterns.
One shining feature of Inside In/Inside Out is that it ensures room for experimentation. The Kooks are obstinate in their refusal to be immediately pinned down into one specific style, and so the entire album is a veritable playground for them to try their hand at a gamut of genres from blues to ska-punk to electronica. They are not afraid to be wrong, to try something new and never settle. Consequently, The Kooks run into some mistakes, as they muddle through the endless possibilities, at times coming off half-assed and fumblingly ordinary.
But more often than not, they end up with modest masterpieces. Case in point: “Seaside” is the kind of minimalist, clean and easy love song that draws your stomach into a magnificent twist. Running a mere one minute and forty seconds, “Seaside” is maddeningly addictive – short, unassuming, lovable and utterly fulfilling, boasting the raw perfection of a singer who’s just discovered the joy of playing guitar.
From there, “Ooh La” is another delight. The torrential, burly acoustic guitar matches well with the head-bobbing percussion, rushing fiercely beneath singer Luke Pritchard’s raspy vocals, which manages to dodge the typical nasal drone that plagues most modern pop rock. The chorus begs to be danced to with its singalong lyrics and jangly tambourine, providing a pure, precious dose of catharsis.
Other stand-out tracks include “Time Awaits,” a stripped-down, cutting venture into the most basic of gritty, greasy blues rock that spins out into a reggae-tinged swagger, and “Na’ve,” a bitter pop-groove with an accusing but good-natured attitude.
Though it’s not on this album, The Kooks shine even brighter on their unexpected cover of Gnarles Barkley’s “Crazy,” which they deftly resurrect and resuscitate on two acoustic guitars.
So give them a shot. As David Bowie’s song “Kooks” off his 1971 album Hunky Dory, for which The Kooks were named, implores, “Take a chance on a couple of kooks hung up on romancing.”
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