The Alabama Shakes sophomore album, “Sound & Color,” has the band shrugging of their label of revivalists and creating something that’s all their own.
When they sprang from the thickets of blues rock revivalism in 2010, seem to have been crafted from an NPR listener-approved recipe. Like a segment on the , the band found success in part because they encouraged a sense of nostalgic relevance in an older generation. After all, young folks liked it too—the Shakes included—and even if “Boys And Girls,” their debut, wasn’t a particularly interesting take on their genre of choice, it was pretty damn convincing.
Faced with the litmus test of a second album, lead singer/rhythm guitarist Brittany Howard and lead guitarist Heath Fogg quit their day jobs in the pointed search of the new and unexpected. In turn, the resulting “Sound and Color” is loaded with surprises, most pleasant.
Where “Boys and Girls” sounded a few riffs and nouns away from an album of blues rock cover songs, “Sound And Color” uses the genres only as a stepping off point and rarely looks back. The eponymous opening track is as patient and entrancing as anything on the band’s last LP, and immediately dispels preconceptions about what the rest has in store. Floating in on a xylophone, Howard’s formidable howl is kept to a smooth resonance that keeps pace with its vulnerable lyrics: “I want to touch a human being / Sound and color / I want to go back to sleep.”
Acoustic soul ballad, psychedelic bayou freakout—the album could go any direction from here, though it saves these true mood swings for later (“This Feeling” and “Gemini” respectively). Instead, they dive into their signature blues rock, and with palpable vigor. “Don’t Wanna Fight” hits as hard as anything on The Black Keys’ “El Camino.” “The Greatest,” another stand out, is unfettered blues-punk, as gloriously raw as anything the Shakes have stamped their name on.
Some of “Sound And Color”’s bizarre instincts are questionable, however. “Gemini” ventures a little too far into self-indulgent jam-band esoterica, and would likely be groaned over even if shuffled into Phish’s next festival set. Then there are the wonky lyrical moments that bring down offending songs, particularly “I don’t know whose fuck to give” on “Dune,” which essentially .
On “Boys And Girls,” the Alabama Shakes could have been written off as a revivalist project. Like the oft-debased tribute band, revivalism is limited to the material of its bygone subject, which can reign in creativity, or at least put finite restraints on it. With “Sound And Color,” the Alabama Shakes has shrugged off that label. More than ever, they sound fierce, and most importantly, like an unknown entity. When you’re working in a mode as well-trodden as rhythm and soul, thatap an achievement in and of itself.
