Hear Me Out: Don't Call It A Comeback
While doing my usual day-off web surfing today, I came across an article wherein Supersoaker, the new Kings of Leon single, was discussed. In the course of reading the article and its comments section, I was reminded again just how disgusted many so-called "fans" of the band were when the Followills got haircuts and made a bid for mainstream success.
It turns out that many of these fine folks actually dig the new single; they're calling it a slight return to the sound of Aha Shake heartbreak, a.k.a. The One Hipsters Cite As Kings Of Leon's Classic Because You Look Cooler To The Internet If You Like It More Than The Obviously Better Youth & Young Manhood.
Of course, that's not what grinds my gears about the faint praise Supersoaker is getting; rather, it's the insinuation that maybe, just maybe, the new Kings Of Leon album will mark a comeback. You know, a triumphant return from those dreadful years while they were goofing off and selling millions of records.
Where the hell do these elitist dicks get off using the word comeback in this context? If Kings of Leon are coming back from anything, it's Caleb Followill's brush with alcoholism that threatened to tear the band apart. They're not coming back from career suicide; though Come Around Sundown didn't sell in the unbelievable numbers that Only By The Night did, it still did much bigger business than any of their first three records.
They're certainly not coming back from Aha Shake Heartbreak, either. As quick as the snobs are to defend it as a glorious and unflappable classic, it's merely a pretty good record being given an overabundance of praise by hipsters who will always choose a band's second or third best album as their favourite for fear of being cast out of the clique for liking something that's too popular.
And herein lies the root of the problem; most of the people calling Supersoaker a potential comeback are the same ones who groaned and bitched when Sex On Fire and Use Somebody started getting heavy rotation and selling copious amounts of records. Rather than simply be happy for a band that had paid their dues and were reaping some well-deserved rewards, every second self-professed music expert on the internet piled on the hate train. Kings Of Leon were vilified for basically no good reason outside of "regular people like them now" and "they got haircuts".
Such needless griping over an album that isn't in the least bit terrible (as those calling Supersoaker a comeback are all too quick to opine). It must be truly horrible to have to listen to an album as solid and universally accepted as Only By The Night and force yourself to hate it based solely on the fact that you don't want people to think you like music that's universally acceptable.
For what it's worth, my favourite Kings Of Leon album is still Youth & Young Manhood. It's raw, honest, and showed great potential for a group of scrappy Southern gentlemen. It had qualities I like in music; I also like it when a band works hard, broadens their sonic horizons and builds a following as they go. So, when Only By The Night brought reward and stardom, it felt deserved and overdue. It doesn't have to be a favourite to be applauded.
I suppose, such is the way of the majority of a generation that can't just be happy for others' success and only gives credit when it best suits their social interests. A generation that would have preferred a Kings Of Leon that released three albums and faded into obscurity. A generation that continues to foster and nurture artists, lending their undying support as a fan as long as they don't screw up and start earning a living from their craft. A generation that would rather find faults in success than learn anything from failure.
Kings Of Leon's sixth album is called Mechanical Bull, and comes out September 24. No matter how it turns out, here are two guarantees: Pitchfork will hate it, and hipsters everywhere will scream, "not as good as Aha Shake Heartbreak".
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