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One of the few peculiar things left about Kings Of Leon in the wake of the Top 40 top coat that has veneered them as of late is the fact that veteran fans still attest to their amazing live show. Whether or not this is an empty claim meant to justify their most recent and even emptier chart-topping album Only By The Night is debatable, but the quality of their performances is not: to any longtime follower expecting rowdy, rosy-cheeked hooligans stomping the stage ‘til the cows come home, the show will have certainly lost its luster.Reminiscing about “the good ol’ days” always feels indulgent, but in the case of Kings Of Leon, little is more accurate. Where once were chain-smoking Southern punks strutting around and erratically reeling to sloppy, raucous tunes are now four mindful rock stars, giving the crowd just what they want – nothing more, nothing less. Lead singer Caleb Followill’s once warbled and incoherent vocals damning boners-gone-soft and overzealous virgins have given way to hackneyed anthems about bone-rattling sex and the pangs of life on the road, fitted with epic harmonies and tasteful choreographed gyrations alike. And with the other three members – Matthew on licks, Jared on slaps, and Nathan on skins, all of the Followill clan – now playing second fiddle to Caleb, it’s no wonder that true fans prefer to speak of Kings Of Leon in past tense.
Fortunately, Kings Of Leon caters to their decidedly divided fan base in their own subtle ways, just wryly enough to careen over the heads of the unwitting newbies and under the radar of commercial scrutiny. After churning out the predictably powerful hit, “Sex On Fire” – and after the thunderous applause ended, of course – Caleb quipped that everyone who came to hear that song was free to leave. As always, they offered a set that was fair to both their discography and rival camps of fans, mashing recent favorites like “Ragoo” and “Use Somebody” together with the classics, from “Razz” to “Taper Jean Girl.” And, even though the chance of rubbing elbows with one of the few true dwindles from show to show as the Family Followill makes its move from auditoriums to arenas, actually running into one of these fellow veterans makes it all strangely worthwhile. After all, there’s something to be said for the odd fan that waits a decade for their favorite band to be recognized in its own country.
