The Black Keys

Magic Potion (Nonesuch)

By Crystal Nicholson
Published: September 7th, 2006 | 1:26pm

The Black Keys are not afraid to maintain a groove until it stagnates, crusts over, and stubbornly explodes anew. 2004's Rubber Factory had critics giddy, and Magic Potion continues the tradition with more grit and less twang per pound. From the uncomfortable lust of "Your Touch" to the blatant Zeppelin throwback of "Just a Little Heat," the Keys have crafted an album that is harder and darker than its predecessors.

Singer Dan Auerback and drummer Patrick Carney live in many minds as the White Stripes of the blues. But in Potion, Auerbach’s vocals are a little less Jack White and a little more Gregg Allman, and the album’s concept a little more psychedelic than garage. The Keys have achieved critical acclaim by melding a minimalist rock lineup with the schizophrenic anger of ’80s cocaine blues and the vocals of an angry Delta spirit. Critics have pointed out the discrepancy between Auerbach’s vocals and his age, and rightly so. He sings like a hardened trucker who once murdered a man for knocking over his SoCo yet can still cry over a woman (two-timing and black magical though she may be).

On Potion, Auerbach brings his vocals to a new level, and his guitar sounds and screams as if it had a band of gypsies conjuring out his its past lives. The guitar and drums, which rubbed together like raw nerve endings on Thickfreakness and Rubber Factory, now maintain the tension but with a touch of sophistication and a clearer destination of each song.

Much like the Stripe’s augmented taste for subtlety on Get Behind Me Satan, Potion shows a band with a refined palette for production. Vocals on “Your Touch” creep up on you like a strung-out voodoo doctor with a crush, and in “Strange Desire” the duo quiets the jam to let feedback and harmonics take over before sliding back in.

The only flaw of this electric time warp of a blues album lies in the lyrics. Auerbach’s words consistently drag behind the two-man army, left on the side of the road like a younger sibling who just won’t understand the movie. Aiming to craft the persona of a love-struck amnesiac in the midst of a mental breakdown, he only achieves what is childish and repetitive, simplistic and safe. In the feedback-filled opening track, “Just Got to Be,” Auerbach waters down the power with mediocre poetry: “I got to go because / Somethin’ is on my mind / And it won’t get better / No matter how hard I try.”

The most chilling vocals are consistently hair-raising yells. Wordless, thus impactive. Yet on the occasional track, the Keys manage to push the limits of traditional blues meaning. In “Modern Times,” Auerbach manages to rage against lustful liars, capitalism and modernity all to a dirty blues groove that calls only for lyrics about Texas weather and young women. Magic Potion is a cave of an album — it’s dark, encompassing, and the den of an angry beast that bites.