Louis XIV’s CD not quite fit for a king
March 5, 2008
Sick Dogs…Sick Dogs and Ponies Louis XIV Atlantic Records Rocks like: Kasabian, Bloc Party, Hail Social
out of
Louis XIV, a quartet of musicians from San Diego, Calif., keeps listeners guessing with its latest release, Slick Dogs and Ponies. When “Guilt By Association” comes through the speakers, you think you are in for some upbeat, dance-style rock. As track eight rolls around, though, perceptions change, and Louis XIV tones it down. Suddenly what began as purely fun, up-tempo rock is unplugged, acoustic and melodious music that channels the greats. Slick Dogs and Ponies is hiding something up its sleeve, leaving listeners both surprised and intrigued.
Stylistically, the band tends to stick with heavy electric guitar, thumping drumbeats and high-pitched rock ‘n’ roll vocals. This choice is all well and good, but what sets Louis XIV apart from the usual fare is its surprising range within the constraints of traditional style. Everyone knows the letdown one experiences when a band has one good song, then changes only the lyrics while keeping the same familiar beats throughout the entire album. Louis XIV proves that keeping in step with the familiar while reinventing just enough to keep listeners interested is entirely possible. No two tracks are alike, and some are on separate ends of the musical spectrum.
Strangely, at times Louis XIV sounds much like The Beatles, a departure from the majority of the album’s Kasabian/Bloc Party-sounding tracks. Typically, songs are guitar-heavy and dance-worthy without being electronic. Guitar riffs, echoing, harmonious vocals and funky keyboard add a ’70s flair to modern rock.
When Louis XIV’s sound is stripped down, however, what remains is the same vocals listeners recognize, but in another world. The new musical niche is one in which vocals are further appreciated and reflect the musical styles of yesterday. A strategically placed cover of The Beatles’ “Eleanor Rigby” only strengthens this association. This rendition is interesting, to say the least – a truly modern take on a classic. When the real Louis XIV comes through, the band’s sound is akin to the greats. While comparing Louis XIV to The Beatles might elicit controversy similar to when Lennon loosely compared his band’s popularity with Jesus’, the linkage is apt and logical.
Clearly, Louis XIV is no rival to The Beatles in musical caliber or popularity, but at moments there is a glimpse of its influence. The quiet strings of “Hopesick,” paired with layered vocal harmonies that culminate in a chiefly instrumental decrescendo, stabilize the parallels. Even in the hyped-up, hybrid acoustic/electric title track, “Slick Dogs and Ponies,” strings find their place among the mad blend of electric instruments adding a cohesiveness to the album. “Air Traffic Control,” with its distant violin, simple piano and acoustic guitar, is the cherry on top of The Beatles-influence sundae. Following the album-closing trend of the toned-down and unplugged is “Thief in the Choir.” Spreading the love and the ’60s style, this song showcases complementary piano notes and fittingly choir-like chorus: “There’s a thief in the choir, one that I admire. / He steals the spotlight, and I am to blame.” This oddly inspiring song about misplaced blame is a graceful end to a slightly perplexing album.
Slick Dogs and Ponies is just like March – it’s in like a lion and out like a lamb. The reasoning behind this atypical stylistic approach, listeners will never know. Maybe it is to keep people talking. No one talks about the usual. Whether it was a strategic move or merely musical multiple personality disorder, Louis XIV hits all the right notes. Keeping the public guessing has its perks and its drawbacks. Some stylistic confusion creates intrigue, too much leads to disinterest. Riding the wave of the inventive intrigue-creating variety, Louis XIV leaves listeners wanting more and wondering what the band will do next. However, the ultimate question on the lips of listeners: Will it be Kasabian or The Beatles? The answer lies only in the collective mind of Louis XIV – and only time will tell.