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LOUIS XIV
KINGS OF ROCK
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The first words out of Jason Hill’s mouth downstairs at the Middle East a week ago Monday were "Bang a gong, and get it on." But the highlight of Louis XIV’s set wasn’t that song, the Lust for Life–like "Paper Doll," or their T. Rex homage "Letter to Dominique," or even their Mark-E.-Smith-on-Viagra single "Finding Out True Love Is Blind." The song that sealed the deal was "The Grand Apartment," a ringer from the San Diego quartet’s homonymous indie debut. Cornered after the set and asked why the hell that track hadn’t been included on Louis’s Atlantic breakthrough, The Best Little Secrets Are Kept, the group’s new manager, local boy and Fenway Recordings honcho Mark Kates, admitted it had taken him a while to realize the song wasn’t an AC/DC cover. The best little secret about Louis XIV is that they’re much better than their albums would lead you to believe. Behind their discs’ retro productions, which declare allegiance to the sonic fidelity and sexual infidelity of British glam with gated snare smacks, handclaps, and slithering debauchery, there’s a band vicious and restrained enough to be mistaken for Bon Scott–era bad-asses. On "Baby Doll" and "Illegal Tender," Hill tossed in off-the-cuff lead-guitar theatrics, evoking the way the original British Invasion bands pimped up their electrified talking blues with Oscar Wilde–ish dandyism. A long bus ride from Toronto spent watching The Last Waltz inspired Hill to break out the slide guitar for a run through their dust-my-broom instrumental "The Hunt," in a punkish, amplified version that came closer to lo-fi Doo Rag than leaden Zeppelin. Maybe it’s that subtle hint of deeper roots that’s led to otherwise off-base comparisons with the White Stripes, but for a few minutes, Hill played the blues as if he were trying to tell us that Jack White’s been doing it all wrong.
BY CARLY CARIOLI
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