story by Charley Rogulewski
photo by Jo McCaughey

It's a Thursday afternoon in mid-February. The Kings of Leon are supposed to be in Japan performing their collection of neo-Southern rock ballads, but a finger injury to lead singer and rhythm guitarist Caleb Followill has them lounging at home in Nashville. The injury is a self-inflicted gash on the right hand caused by slashing guitar without a pick. It is giving a much needed break from the road of sex, drugs and rock and roll that brothers Nathan, Caleb, Jared, and first cousin Matthew Followill have been on since the release of their balls-to-the-wall debut of Southern-fried fury, 2003's Youth and Young Manhood.

The three brothers grew up on the road, packing into the family car on Mondays and vagabonding from church to church throughout the Bible Belt. Their father Leon was a preacher. Tuesday through Sunday they'd be at various church events where their mother played piano, Nathan backed up on drums and Caleb and Jared pretty much just slept. Sometimes they'd stay in hotels if they were paid well, other times home was the church parsonage. They grew up sheltered beneath the evangelist stigma. No drinking. No sex. No smoking. No going to movies. No mixed bathing. No wearing shorts for men. No make-up or cutting your hair for women. And no rock and roll. Absolutely, none of that damn loud rock and roll music!

FOLLOWILL'S INNER VIEW "That's what everyone expected on the second record - was for us to be a little ballsy and come out and really show our Southern heritage and take command of our Southern rock scene or whatever the fuck they call it. But, no, instead we did the opposite. We're brutally honest on this record and talk about shit that most bands are too scared to ever admit: that they had a bout with impotence with a supermodel or that they are going bald..."

They just got bored. That's how Nathan Followill explains the band's musical crescendo to me in our phone conversation. Their parents spilt in 1998. Divorce is frowned upon in the religion so their pops stopped preaching. It was a catharsis for them. Every red circle with a line through it was lifted. The brothers were on their own. They had been raised a certain way their entire lives and here they were, with the gates of do-whatever-the-fuck-you-want wide open. And they walked right through them - discovering marijuana, wild women, rock and roll, and some other stuff they refused to talk about in the presence of a tape recorder. For instance, here's what Nathan had to say when Chicago Innerview rang him up:

Nathan Followill: You're not a police officer are you?

Chicago Innerview: What? Uh…I'm actually calling from the national corrections facility about something that happened in your neighborhood two nights ago. No, I'm kidding. I'm fucking with you. I'm with Chicago Innerview.

NF: [laughing]

CI: Why? Should there be a policeman calling you right now? And what's the story behind that?

NF: No, I just don't want a cop recording any conversation with me without my defense attorney present. [laughing] I'm just fucking with you…We're breakin' the law as much as we can and enjoying it while it lasts.

CI: Becoming rock 'n' roll's biggest rebels? Stuff like that?

NF: Definitely. Chairs are going out the window. I promise you.

CI: But hopefully no dead hookers?

NF: Ahh…in the pool or out of the pool?

And now back to our story. The Followill clan moved to Nashville with their mom to make sure she got settled in. Caleb was working construction and Nathan was attending Freed-Hardeman University when they started collaborating on songs. They started from scratch. None of them really played any instruments. Nathan hadn't touched the drums in six years. He was rusty. Then the same old story of how most things happen in the music business happened…someone who knew someone who knew someone…

Nathan: Before you know it, we had a record deal and they were ready to put our band together for us. We were like 'we wanna buy our 15-year-old brother a bass. He's never played before, but he's gonna do it.' And they laughed. Then we said we were gonna get our cousin, who's 16. 'He's gonna get a guitar, move in with us, and he's gonna play guitar.' And they laughed again and said, 'Okay. We'll see you guys in a month.' And then they came down a month later and we rocked their asses off in our garage. And they have never given us any shit, man. They're like, 'good work.'

After their first CD, the Kings of Leon were labeled as (my God it's so uncreative) "a band that looks like they came off the set of Almost Famous." They were being pigeonholed by what they wore and not by the way they sounded. They seemed too good to be true, and too youthful to be any good. Their baby faces were covered up with long hair and handlebar moustaches. They had their image and it seemed that their music went along with it. Frontman sang with a hoarse voice that sounded like he had been drinking SoCo and smoking for years, but Caleb Followill wasn't even old enough to buy liquor. I have a feeling these exact words were already written about them too…the whole sounding-hoarse-from-whiskey-but-not-old-enough-to-drink tidbit. This was what the Kings of Leon were becoming, this label. They knew it too. So they had to do something about it.

Nathan: Kings of Leon. It's one of those things where we don't mind that you have to live with something for a little while before you truly get it. That's the way we are. At first look, with the first record especially, you see these hairy boys with huge hair and tight pants. That's what everyone expected on the second record - was for us to be a little ballsy and come out and really show our Southern heritage and take command of our Southern rock scene or whatever the fuck they call it. But, no, instead we did the opposite. We're brutally honest on this record and talk about shit that most bands are too scared to ever admit: that they had a bout with impotence with a supermodel or that they are going bald. Most bands want to write about sweethearts...

The sophomore slump. It's a band's second album unleashed to the thirsty public that is anticipated to suck. Critics foam at the mouth to say it will suck even before hearing it. That's where the Kings of Leon are today, flipping the bird to all the anticipation. Aha Shake Heartbreak was recorded on live analog. Just the four band members in one room. One take. If someone fucked up, they started back at the beginning.

Nathan: Basically, half the songs on the record are good because we were all trying to outdo each other. Like, 'I'm not gonna be the one that messes up motherfucker! You're gonna mess up before I mess up!'

Aha Shake Heartbreak is their pseudo "sophomore jinx". I'm not gonna say it's great, but it's damn good. I'm not foaming at the mouth, but biting my lip for what's next already. While delivering some catchy numbers that you'd never get sick of hearing, Aha has the same effect as Youth and Young Manhood. After listening to it, you feel the Kings of Leon will be able to do great things someday, perhaps put out one of those classic CDs that goes on to become timeless. The energy is there, but it's missing that amazing guitar solo or ridiculous riff that makes you want to throw your bra off and at them, or that message that makes you totally understand the meaning of life and want you to sell your soul for rock and roll - you know, that damn loud rock and roll music we keep talking about. But the Kings of Leon are mature enough to know themselves that they aren't at this point yet. Maybe it's not even what they want.

Nathan: One thing we've kept and been able to keep was moderation. We're not gonna be stupid. I mean obviously there is a bunch of shit to do out there, and we've got all the time in the world to do it. We saved that for after our first record, then we went fuckin' buck wild crazy. I can't share any of that. 'Buck wild' means not being able to talk about it with a tape recorder on. That's why I asked if you were a cop earlier. We're just having fun, ya know?

Kings of Leon :: with the Features :: Metro :: March 4.