Kings of Leon bring American Arena Rock to life
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After 22 years, Kings of Leon maintains a veil of impenetrability that no celebrity can ever fully pierce.
Over the course of two hours and more than two dozen songs on Friday night at the Dos Equis pavilion, the last dregs of a surprisingly balmy summer, it was possible to be struck again by the work – impressionistic lyrics against melodies captivating rock, surging guitars and explosive backing vocals – as well as the improbability of the lasting success of this group. (American rock music has not seen the strongest growth over the past decade.)
âShe’ll lend you her toothbrush / She’ll throw your party / Kill me, kill me,â says a line in âMilk,â 2004’s Aha Shake Heartbreak. On paper, it’s baffling, but on Friday night, hearing about 20,000 people refer “Milk” to the group, the words sounded like scripture.
This fusion of the weird and sacred leads with the Followills – brothers Caleb, Jared and Nathan, and cousin Matthew – a very glorious story about growing up and witnessing revivals in their father’s Pentecostal tent, but from a way that feels deserved and internalized, rather than an easy and sensational marketing hook like it was at the start of the band.
“This fusion of the eerie and sacred leads with the much-vaunted Followills backstory of growing up and witnessing revivals in their father’s Pentecostal tent.”
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The synthesis of the profane and the spiritual extends beyond biography. When you see yourself, Kings of Leon’s eighth studio album and the impetus for its first Dallas stop in four years, is rich in the kind of soulful, deep-fried Southern impulses that initially turned heads, but morphed into the kind of expansive, arena-friendly songs that have become second nature to these multi-platinum, Grammy-laden Nashville sons.
As Caleb, who took care of the vocals and guitar duties on Friday, noted, the Kings were a “down-to-earth” man at Dos Equis: Matthew was absent, given the recent birth of his daughter. The remaining Followills were supported by familiar faces: Liam O’Neil on keyboards with Tim Deaux and Chris Coleman of Dallas on guitar.
The six musicians, located on a stage flanked by oversized video screens, surrounded by haze and a relentless riot of lights, did an atmospheric and efficient job of the night’s setlist, rarely letting a song fade away. before tearing into another.
The audience and performer were in sync throughout, as the very lightly masked crowd greeted the deep cuts with as much enthusiasm as the well-worn tubes.
Indeed, the start of the evening, moving from the opening “When You See Yourself, Are You Far” to “The Bucket” to “Supersoaker” to “Taper Jean Girl” to “Revelry” to “Manhattan” and a culminated with “Sex on Fire”, was an invigorating reminder of what got Kings of Leon to be where they are and what they are still capable of.
The visceral chants extended and contracted as needed. The skinny guitar lines intertwined with the pulsating bass and thumping drums, while Caleb Followill’s pinched and passionate tenor soared above it all.
Kings of Leon has always been more than the sum of its massive successes and proved it time and time again on Friday night. Standing inside the Dos Equis pavilion as the music surged like a wave over the ecstatic audience, to the far corners of the lawn, had to understand – and more importantly, feel deeply – this basic truth. .
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