Oh, errors of judgement. How I know you well! Last term, just as we were heading off for Christmas, I wrote, in a throwaway comment that I’d now like to dispose of properly, that the Black Keys’ latest album El Camino is a ‘dud’. Well, it is time to make amends. Using all the powers of apology that I acquired as Felix Editor last year, let me now say, “I was wrong”.

This change-of-heart occurred on the road from Alexandra Palace last week. We all know how difficult it is to admit changes of musical taste – God, forbid I should ever start enjoying Lana Del Rey – so do not view this Damascene conversion lightly. I was returning from the Black Keys gig [see Simon Hunter’s review here] at the aforementioned venue, through a blizzard of snow that sadly didn’t stay until the morning, when I realised my coolness towards El Camino [Spotify link] was misplaced.

My first taste of the Black Keys came from the superb mash-up of their album Brother with Big Boi’s debut, Sir Lucious Left Foot: The Son of Chico Dusty. It has jazz, style, and an unquantifiable something that gets you moving in your chair. When I finally listened to the original, Brother, I found myself standing from my chair, leaping on the table, and dancing like I imagine I would if my life was a movie…

I should say that all of this happened about a year after everyone else had listened to Brother. “Hey man, have you heard this sweet-ass album?” – “Yeah, Kadhim, like a year ago; why are we still friends?” But then, a new album appeared on the horizon. I could love the Black Keys and get down and jive, at the same time as everyone else. Holy fucking hallelujah! The first single, ‘Lonely Boy’, seemed to live up to my dreams – a ragged chainsaw guitar riff and an impeccably cool music video.

But when the album came out, I felt let down. It wasn’t the hell-raising party I had expected. There was a change of tone; it was less bombastic and more introspective. Instead of screaming, “MY NEXT GIRL [bumb bumb bumb] WILL BE NOTHING LIKE MY EX-GIRL!” here they were singing woefully, “Operayyytor please, put me back on the line … … told my girl I’d be back, Operayyytor please, this is wrecking my mind.”

It was only when I saw them live that I began to appreciate El Camino’s softer touch (and upsettingly realised that much of its energy had been stripped out by my laptop’s tinny speakers). Brother and El Camino felt much less in opposition and more like a complementary yin and yang.

If you feel the need to point out that @theblackkeys have five other albums, then tweet, “you don’t know shit!”, @kadhimshubber. Otherwise, tweet @ImperialLibrary complaining about their Inceptrance.