If it has been a long time since you have been hideously offended or a long time since you've heard a rock album that's a straight-up thrill to listen to, then the answer to your problems has arrived in the form of Louis XIV's major label debut LP, The Best Little Secrets Are Kept.
Louis XIV, the rock group obsessed with lurid lyrics and excessive riffs, takes its name from the French monarch, who was renowned for his extravagant lifestyle and general hedonism. This allusion testifies to their wit and historical acumen, but if that sounds incredibly dry and contrived don't worry-this is the first and last time Louis XIV have anything to do with subtle wit or sophisticated allusions.
The rest of this album is all about the dumb fun of rock 'n' roll and being horny. The music on The Best Little Secrets Are Kept rarely strays from the crunching guitars of mid-'60s garage rock, the hand claps and otherworldly melodies of T-Rex, or the shuffling, beat-driven rock of early '60s Rolling Stones. The lyrics are dirty enough to send AC/DC running for a bottle of 409.
The first stroke of genius on this record is \Finding Out True Love is Blind,"" a bare bones arrangement presided over by the lead singer, Jason Hill, who here sounds like the bastard child of Ziggy Stardust and Bon Scott circa Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap. This song is about which kinds of girls Louis XIV likes, which it turns out, is all of them: ""I want miss-little smart girl, with your glasses and all your books / and I want a stupid girl who gives me all those dirty looks."" There's something in this song to offend everyone, from ""Hey carrot juice, I wanna squeeze you away until you bleed,"" to ""Well, chocolate girl, you're looking like something I want.""
But the sex-obsessed lyrics of Louis XIV are not used solely to raise eyebrows. They also perfectly complement their music. When combining Bowie, Bolan, The White Stripes, Rolling Stones and Bon Scott, what else would you sing other than things like ""Pledge allegiance to the United States of Me"" and ""We don't even have to go to the pool if you want me to make you wet?"" The answer: Nothing else would fit, and nothing else could be better.
The best moment on this album is the transcendent ""Hey Teacher,"" where strings, garage rock, ridiculous falsettos and hand claps accompany a student's sexually charged exchange with his teacher. It is proof that the best rock happens when a group is not trying to do much more than have a good time, and be really, really filthy.
