Turns out, we’re not feeling venomous about this standard…
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[5.86]
Edward Okulicz: When I think about how someone might tackle a standard, I wonder if the approach sits along a continuum of conservative to innovative, or if it’s some kind of 2D, 3D or 4D matrix. This definitely leans towards reverence, although if it’s a throwback, it’s not a pure one, there’s a bit of a hazy desert sun going over the delta here. Whatever it is, sometimes it’s hard to mess something up. But the downside is finding that sweet spot of being really special is hard as well. Absent a really great voice, this was always doomed to be inessential even if it is crunchy and satisfying.
[6]
John S. Quinn-Puerta: The Black Keys get muddy on this one, taking a swing at Junior Kimbrough’s version of a country blues that’s been around in recorded form since 1941. The result is less Turn Blue and more Rubber Factory, wholly given over to the drone of delta blues, repeated slow slide hits baking in the southern heat. Auerbach’s vocals are less filtered than they’ve been in years, rhythmically in tune with his lead guitar and Carney’s drums. The atmosphere masks the rhythmic precision at play, as the guitar doesn’t scream so much was plaintively moan.
[8]
Ian Mathers: I know it’s the easiest thing in the world to accuse the Black Keys of turning the blues into pablum (fun, too!), but for chrissakes compare this thing to the guy they presumably revere. Sometimes there’s nothing worse than the misrecognition of being loved.
[3]
Jeffrey Brister: It sets up its vibe from the first notes and does absolutely nothing to upend or subvert expectations. Is that good or bad? Does it matter? It’s tightly performed, trimmed of anything remotely resembling fat. No overstaying its welcome. Just six minutes of blues, played with the precision of expert musicians that make it look easy.
[8]
Thomas Inskeep: The Black Keys play country blues like they’re embalming it.
[2]
Samson Savill de Jong: The Black Keys are lucky Sticky Fingers is one of my favourite albums of all time, because this is just a Rolling Stones song. Probably because they’re doing essentially the same thing, adding some electric guitars and rock elements to some old country blues. It sort of just stops at the end, which I guess is true to the original, but I’d love it if it could explode out more, really let the energy take you away.
[6]
Harlan Talib Ockey: It’s easy to be skeptical of a late-career covers album, especially when it involves a standard as hallowed as “Crawling Kingsnake.” Rather than simply clone the original, however, the Black Keys have brought us a sprawling psychedelic epic. Solos creep back and forth along the wooden floor like ivy, in no hurry towards any destination, and Auerbach sings with renewed self-assurance, like he no longer cares if you’re listening. It’s a welcome change from the just-give-’em-what-they-want-and-go of Let’s Rock, and you get the sense that not only do the Black Keys love the original song, they loved reassembling its circuits into a brand new machine.
[8]