Kings Of Leon - Because Of The Times

So they’re back, the three brothers and their cousin, with a new album that marks a departure from the previous long players.


What the fuck is going on with the mad ‘80’s guitar riffs and atmospherics in this album? I love Kings of Leon; I was just as gutted as every other person who seemed unable to get tickets for their forthcoming Newcastle show (apparently selling out in 7 minutes).

Perhaps by coincidence, the new album opens with a 7 minute song called “Knocked Up”. A weird Christian cowboy has got some weird Christian cowgirl pregnant and they have to run away before God strikes them down or their Dad’s ground them and perform a makeshift abortion with a garden hoe.

The guitar that squeals in after 30 seconds or so hurts my ears when I’ve got it on the iPod and it makes me think that I’m listening to a guitarist from one of those dreadful Funeral For A Friend types playing with Johnny Cash’s backing band. I’m yet to make it through this song.

By the time “Charmer” starts, Caleb’s vocals sound like that horrible lass off “The Grudge” and that fucking guitar is there again. Honestly, get fucking rid of The Edge. The rest of the guitar sounds like Bleach-era Nirvana to this ugly twats lugs.

“On Call” kicks in and I’m already starting to lose patience, but this song is better, clearly the single of the album. The vocals and the words are perfect man, no matter how many times it’s the same line over and over again. Actually, I fucking love this tune.

Next up is “McFearless”. I was hoping it’d be an ode to a new red hot chilli based burger at the famous golden arches, but no such luck, I like it as much as I’d probably like said processed cow sandwich. “Black Thumbnail” is better, but yet more stupid effects, this time on the vocals for “My Party”.

“Ragoo” takes its name from the jars of pre-made Italian sauces for pasta. I’m now wondering what has happened to Kings of Leon, Eddie Van Halen is now playing guitar. Weren’t these fuckers meant to be forking hay and delivering calves in dungarees? I’m picturing them in spandex with silk scarves and tassels tied around their wrists right now.

The acoustic guitar of “Fans” takes me back to the Byrds, but the vocals are somewhere between that cunt out of Counting Crows and that homeless bloke who stands at the roundabout down Shields waving at the ships.

By the time I get to “Arizona”, I’m starting to wonder when they got Phil Collins in on the drums and Phil Collins’ session guitarist in on lead.

Honestly, this album is such a massive disappointment to me, I’m devastated.

Maybe it’s just me, but the things I loved about this band from the previous albums seem to have disappeared.

If they’ve grown up, I suggest they get back to their roots, and if that means burning down black churches and nailing gays to crosses, then so be it.


Cheer yourselves up with some fretwankery from the lead guitarist in the number one Phil Collins tribute "Faux Collins"