The Darkness couldn't have arrived at a more bizarre time in mainstream rock music. With scores of pedantic nü-metallers, insipid garage rock revivalists, and happy-go-lucky mall punks currently occupying the charts and airwaves, a ragtag bunch of English boys with a fondness for the grandiose, lighthearted classic rock of yesteryear would seem unlikely candidates for success. But, lo and behold, in the summer of 2003, the group's first album managed to debut on the UK charts at number 2. Does this seemingly unprecedented display indicate a musical sea change of sorts, signaling a Nirvana-like about-face from the somber sounds of Staind and Creed back to the jubilant spirits of Van Halen and Def Leppard? Probably not. The Darkness aren't out to save music. They're just out to rock and have a little fun while they're at it. And after grunge's decade-plus reign on the Clear Channel kingdom that is mainstream rock, such a sentiment is more than a welcome change.
The Darkness rocks, there's no question about this. But what do they sound like exactly? The Darkness play a no-frills, tongue-in-cheek brand of good ol' rock-n-roll, taking cues from the more brazen qualities of AC/DC, Led Zeppelin, Queen, and early 80's glam. All this may sound a bit dubious, considering the fact that the aforementioned advent of grunge officially made it resolutely unfashionable for bands to make legitimately fun music. But, surprisingly enough, the formula works.
The first four songs off of Permission To Land are essentially flawless, all featuring supremely rocking guitar solos, ridiculously campy lyrics ("I want to banish you from whence you came" is one line that comes to mind) and those ingratiatingly catchy melodies. The opener, "Black Shuck", a song about a deranged canine wreaking havoc on "a town in the east", revs up the AC/DC factor- as well as the Marshall stacks- to 11, while "Get Your Hands Off My Woman" features an anthemic chorus that would make all but the most hardened of scenesters crack a smile. On "Growing On Me" and the album's leadoff single, "I Believe in a Thing Called Love", the Darkness exhibit a bit more of a sensitive side without losing an iota of their hard rock bravado.
Other highlights include "Givin' Up"- essentially "Mr. Brownstone" for the Generation Y set- and the two best songs Freddie Mercury never wrote, "Stuck In A Rut" (check out singer Justin Hawkins' maniacal laughter and cries of "thank you, master" in the bridge), and "Friday Night", which details an extracurricular activities schedule via the most saccharine melody this side of the Electric Light Orchestra.
The only missteps the band seems to take are on the ballads, which seem a bit hamfisted, to say the least ("Love Is Only A Feeling" wouldn't be out-of-place on a Nickelback record). To put it another way, the Darkness are at their best when they're balls-to-the wall rocking.
Say what you will about their penchant for mustaches and unitards, (I tried my best not to mention the group's appalling fashion sense up until now), campy videos, theatrical bric-a-brac, or histrionic vocals, but the fact remains plain and simple: the Darkness write genuinely good songs and rock hard. If you can get past all of the faux- (I certainly hope it's faux)rock star posturing and put aside all of your post-grunge pretenses for half-an-hour, you'll be in for an indisputably rollicking good time.
