The Magnificent Seven: Chulahoma
This is the second in a series of articles that looks at seven albums the authors appreciate. In terms of criteria: they must be albums listened to only in their entirety…content and form together like houses in motion. They also must have enormous personal relevance: they are corner stones. They may not be cool, but they are us.
#6
Chulahoma, The Black Keys
I worked in a library for a while several years ago. Watchung Library is historic in structure and foundation, but very progressive in terms of practice. The library's director is engulfed in a blaze of indie, avant-garde, bizzaro art. Doug is the man. He boasts one of the most eclectically diverse art house cinema collections I've seen--he spends like over 50% of his media budget on films from Janus and Hammer. The dude eats and breathes low budget art.
It was from his insane catalogue that I picked up albums from Zappa, Beefheart, Black Lips, and the Black Keys. I had no idea who the Keys were. They were next to the Lips, so while I was just grabbin' stuff from that area, I snagged Rubber Factory and The Big Come Up.
I remember closing the joint, where after I'd usually sit in my car and play new CDs I'd grabbed from the day. Jammin' out post shift was routine.
The Keys blew me away. They had a unique sound, one that I had no idea I'd been craving: low production; hard, sharp, bluesy distortions; and an old-soul's siren from Dan Auerbach. Hooked. Yes, please. I couldn't stop listening to Thickfreakness and Rubber Factory. I'd play them everywhere. I didn't think it could get any better. It did. It got best?
I love this record so goddamn much, man. So damn much. The artwork is insane, the color, the feel of the disc sleeve. The whole physicality of the album is killer. It blew me away the first time I heard it; a trite superlative, but one of the few actual applicable uses of the phrase. I was stunned by this album. I listened to it three times at least in the car after work before I went home. I hadn't anything like it in my possession, even from them. Though Chulahoma isn't their original music, they make these Junior Kimbrough's tunes feel original. The sound is all at once piercing, inflating, rough, soft, meditative, bombastic, soothing, unsettling, and immensely soulful. Classic Keys. This is the best they've sounded. It's a definitive issue in their early badass brilliance.
This is my number one drunk album, no doubt; a title that's as relevant/meaningful as favorite color. It's mesmeric with 3-AM-Gin. And regardless of when or where I hear it--I just listened to it in the car on the way home today--it reminds me of heat and sweat and night. True blues and drinking. Blooze.
Key Track: "My Mind is Ramblin" - Sends up the whole album. Wraps it all up like an old, worn, moldy shoebox with a big bleeding, pumping, wet heart inside. It roars. I lose my mind. Every time. I'm usually on the floor by the end of it.
Pat Marino appreciates coming out clean on the other side.