Recommendations of the Editorial team
The Black Keys’ last two albums showed the Akron arena-garage blues-rock duo exploring beyond their own comfort zone. 2024’s Ohio Players brought collaborations with Beck, Dan the Automator and Noel Gallagher. Last year’s “No Rain, No Flowers” was made with A-list pop producers like Lana Del Rey confidante Rick Nowels and hip-hop/R&B veteran Scott Storch. DOn their 14th album, singer and guitarist Dan Auerbach and drummer Patrick Carney return to the essentials: a collection of songs by other artists, inspired by the shared journey of two lifelong friends and die-hard record collectors.
A decent chunk of “Peaches!” is dedicated to the northern Mississippi blues, which has always been a core element of their sound – very similar to their 2019 album “Delta Kream”, which is also based on cover versions. The Keys delve into songs by RL Burnside, Junior Kimbrough and Jessie Mae Hemphill, with second guitarist Kenny Brown and multi-instrumentalist Jimbo Mathus providing depth and definition. These versions are often not particularly explosive or even rousing.
In a way they are introverted, they exude a pickup basketball naturalness that adds something to the deep grind and bitter crunch of the music. The press materials for the album reveal that Auerbach’s father was diagnosed with esophageal cancer in 2025 and is being cared for in Auerbach’s home in Nashville. It’s hard not to hear a camaraderie on probation in this record – the sound of two guys with their arms around each other’s shoulders and looking in the same direction together.
Raw, direct, undaunted
The Keys don’t stay in the delta all the time. The rockiest moment is a ride through Ike Turner’s Chicago blues banger “You Got to Lose”, based on George Thorogood’s ballsy version from 1977. “Peaches!” was recorded with the raw immediacy of one-takes – but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t polished with care.
Their reimagining of Willie Griffin’s Crate Digger gem “Where There’s Smoke, There’s Fire” transforms an eerie shimmy into something with the ghostly intensity of Bob Dylan’s 2000s roots invocations. Even when the keys are just hanging out, they leave a reverberating echo.