The Two of Us
"24-25," the opening song on this, the third LP for Norwegian duo Kings Of Convenience, is the most unexpectedly-touching ode to platonic male partnership since the final reel of Superbad. Aesthetically speaking, the João-Gilberto-on-a-rainy-day acousticism of KOC has little in common with that foul-mouthed teen-flick frolickery, but the subtext is the same: even when our fellas have eyes for the ladies, their hearts beat for each other.
“She’ll be gone soon, you can have me for yourself” Erlend Øye and Eirik Glambek Bøe sing, in Simon-and-Garfunkel-esque harmony, as if offering a promise to each other. And, when they croon in unsion “what we built is bigger than the sum of two”, forgive me if I might start crying into my sentimentalized homoereoticism.
Suitably enough, the album that "24-25" kicks off is, itself, called Declaration of Dependence. It’s been five long years since Riot on an Empty Street, a half-decade in which this duo went their separate ways; Øye, most notably, fronting The Whitest Boy Alive. But, even as they were seeing other people, they were destined to stay together; no matter how far they strayed, together was where their hearts always laid. And, with this album, and this title, they make a clear point: being in a duo is comparable to being a couple.
Just the Two of Us
Aside from its glorious bromantic subtext, Declaration of Dependence finds Bøe and Øye staying true to the ideal they defined with the title of their first album: Quiet is the New Loud. Where Riot on an Empty Street found them stepping away from their two-guys-with-acoustic-guitars angle —like on the Øye-powered, dancefloor-friendly "I'd Rather Dance With You"— this third disc is almost completely stripped back to the two of them.
This, of course, only increases the intimacy of the sentiments; whether these Kings are singing about mischievous reunions ("So we meet again after several years," in the impossibly jaunty "Boat Behind"), about spending some time apart to see if you'll come back together ("I'm letting go to see if you'll hold on to me," in "Renegade"), or remembering that the endless traveling opportunities of touring need to be treasured, not seen as a burden ("Freedom and its Owner").
This speaks of a greater thought at play in Declaration of Dependence: even if it's looking through the world at the prism of the band —even if, for Øye and Bøe, the world is their band— that doesn't mean that they have a narrow world-view.
"Rule My World" is the obvious example of this; as indicated by its possessive title, it personalizes the relationship between songsmith and politician, lamenting the fact that elected leaders often become self-appointed moral police, to the extent of killing on behalf of citizens who never asked for it.
Given the song is so soft —so, indeed, quiet— it won't come across as too ruthless to listeners; but Bøe and Øye can be ruthlessly honest in their songs. Long ago, they perfected the art of singing softly but carrying a big lyrical stick. And, after trying their hand at being the only one singing, they've realized it's a trick they turn best when they're together.
Record Label: Virgin/Astralwerks
Release Date: October 20, 2009
