Bro, have you heard of Kings of Leon, man?

If you, like me, have been a human being for the past year or so, at some point, no doubt, somebody has come up to you, probably after a few beers or a joint or something, and said something similar to the following:

"Yo, dude, have you ever listened to Kings of Leon? They rock pretty heavy, bro."

Fuck Kings of Leon. Fuck them and their bandwagon dickhead fans. I hate everything about them, especially the way their fans like to abbreviate the band's name "KoL." Fuck that. You suck too much to get an abbreviation. If they don't call the E Street Band "EsB," then there's no way in hell you get an abbreviation.

Anyways, when people ask if I've heard of Kings of Leon, it bothers me. As someone who follows music fairly closely (like a peeping tom, generally from a few hundred yards away with a pair of binoculars), I've known about Kings of Leon since their 2003 debut album, Youth and Young Manhood. It wasn't particularly my cup of tea, but judging by their appearance and the second single off the album, "Molly's Chambers," they had potential. Enough of my blathering, I believe this early appearance by the band on Letterman will make my point:



You can see from the clip why I had hope for the band's future. They seemed like a bunch of generally well-intentioned weirdos with bad 70s haircuts and jackets playing simple, catchy garage rock.

I'm not going to sit here and pretend that I followed the band all that closely, mostly because, as far as eccentrics playing 60s and 70s tinged garage rock, Jack White was crushing it at the time. Anyways, sometime in 2008, Kings of Leon released their fourth album, Only by the Night. Given the hype surrounding the record, one would expect that the Kings had finally fulfilled the promise suggested in their debut, having possibly added a few influences, tightened up the songwriting, maybe thrown in a marimba or two for good measure. But no. If selling out had a soundtrack, it would be Only by the Night. The album reeks of corporate influence.

First of all, Kings of Leon's whole schtick seems to be that they're southern men, trying to be good, upstanding Christians while surrounded by the temptations of the rock and roll lifestyle. I hate to break it to you, fellas, but this crap is played out, having been executed far more effectively by Lynyrd Skynyrd, the Allman Brothers Band, and more recently, Ludacris.

The songs are atrocious, as well. The lead riff of "Sex on Fire" could probably be played by the drummer from Def Leppard. That's not an indictment of good, simple rock songs, but if you're gonna throw in a lead riff, it should probably not sound like a synth line from an Usher song. Of course, the music would be bad enough in and of itself if you spoke Portuguese or something and were unable to make out the lyrics, which are laughably terrible. This is the sort of vague, paint-by-numbers crap that embodies both a surefire hit and the end of decent music as we know it. You could use somebody, huh? Well I could use somebody to puncture my eardrums so I don't have to listen to any more of your cliched claptrap.

I'm surprised more people haven't jumped on Kings of Leon for being the sellouts they are. I mean, Green Day took a bunch of crap for American Idiot. Granted, the band's presentation of the album was a desperate cry for attention from 14 year olds (despite the fact that they released what was ostensibly a political record and 14 year olds can't vote), from the guyliner to the red, white and black outfits (Jack White was pissed), to the arena-rock theatrics. At the end of the day, though, American Idiot had a message, even if it was the sort of oversimplified vilification of George W. Bush that wouldn't be out of place being sponsored by the letter "F" on Sesame Street. What exactly is Kings of Leon trying to tell us? Sex is on fire? We all could use somebody? Wow, fellas. Real earth-shattering stuff.

I'll leave you with two very simple indictments of Kings of Leon. Firstly, in a recent issue of Rolling Stone, Will.i.am said they, "saved rock and roll." So, Kings of Leon saved rock and roll, according to the man who almost single-handedly destroyed pop music. High praise. Secondly, just try and picture Lionel Richie singing the lyrics, "Yeah, this sex is on fire." You can't do it, can you? And if a band's lyrics are too embarrassing for Lionel Richie to sing, should you really be listening to them at all?