Four fairly interchangeable albums in, Ohio’s best guitar-and-drums duo stick with manly sludge blooze your uncle could’ve rode helmetless to ages ago, neither appreciably better nor worse than the new CD by ’70s boogie brontosaurs Cactus. There’s some heavy-hearted wailing, a dance number for AC/DC fans, and at least one track that jazzbos might identify as harmolodic. If the Black Keys sped up a little, their stodginess might feel more songful. But part of their charm is that they don’t.
Now Hear This:The Black Keys – “Your Touch” WINDOWS MEDIA