Even if you don't recognize the name Kyle Thomas, you may know some of his associations. Seth Bogart, better known as Hunx, cites him as his best friend. He was the frontman of stoner-metal outfit Witch, but wasn't the band's best-known member. (That honor goes to the band's drummer and all-around indie-rock hero J Mascis.) He was a part of sprawling Vermont hippie collective Feathers back when you could use the term "freak-folk" without feeling embarrassed for yourself. But to a specific portion of the rock-nerd underworld, Thomas is foremost known as King Tuff, Playground Legend (at least among those who proudly flaunt 3" Burger Records badges on their jean jackets). If that name doesn't ring a bell, here's a quick briefing: His charisma is magnetic, his shows are akin to cheap-beer-soaked tent revivals, he combines the stadium-sized guitar licks of Erik Cartwright with the bratty whine of Eric Cartman, and his solo debut, 2008's Was Dead, was the sort of album most scuzz-loving musicians would incinerate their garages to make.
Though long on distortion and short on subtlety, it would be a stretch to dump Was Dead in the "lo-fi" category. Though Thomas worked on the album completely by himself, it was better-produced (or, if you prefer, recorded less crappily) than modern dirtbag-punk classics like Jay Reatard's Blood Visions and Ty Segall's Melted. It was a record packed to the brim with energy and irresistible hooks, with its best moments ("A Pretty Dress", "Just Strut", "Animal") going a long way to prove why the enthusiasm toward Thomas' solo project is well justified. If you were expecting King Tuff's self-titled sophomore album to be Was Dead 2: The Resurrection, don't hold your breath. This is both a good and bad thing.
Irreverence is paramount to being in a garage-rock band (unless you're, say, Women, there are few things more boring than a garage band that takes themselves too seriously), and Thomas has this in spades. In "Keep on Movin'", he shouts out arcane dance moves and, in his own words, lets his guitar (whose name is Jazijoo) drool. He lets out a comically puny bark in "Stranger". He gives his songs titles like "Loser's Wall" and "Swamp of Love", which sound like landmarks where misfits in the Deep South meet to make out. The album art bears the image of a cartoon bat holding a Gibson guitar and a magic wand. Clichés frowning upon judging a book by its cover need not apply here.
King Tuff's aforementioned cover looks exactly like the kind of decal someone would slap on the bumper of their beaten-to-shit 1976 Camaro, and for the most part, the music sounds perfect for playing inside such a vehicle while attempting to see if it can still hit 80mph. There's the too-appropriately-titled opener "Anthem", carried by a double-neck lead begging to be greeted with devil horn gestures. There's the Lynyrd Skynyrd-esque boogie of "Stranger", the freewheeling and fun "Baby Just Break", and climactic closer "Hit & Run". Album highlight "Bad Thing" is Hunx's Hairdresser Blues spiked with brown liquor, equipped with a supercharged chorus. Completely free of arty abstraction, the good parts of King Tuff were designed with maximum impact in mind.
Unlike most of his contemporaries, Thomas' chief value as a songwriter is his accessibility. While most of his top-shelf contemporaries have wandered out of dive-bar stardom and into the world of indie rock-at-large, they have also drawn a clear line in the sand between themselves and fans who may not be receptive to their sound. Thomas, on the other hand, has no problem meeting those fans in the middle.
At times, this creates problems for the album. Tunes like "Unusual World" and "Evergreen" sound like quieter holdovers from Thomas' 2010 album under the name Happy Birthday, and sound out of place here. Both songs provide breathing room between the album's stompers, but perhaps a bit too much breathing room, to the point where they feel like filler. "Loser's Wall" and "Keep on Movin'" drift at midtempo, leaving you with the feeling that Thomas has written these songs before, only faster and better. One of the many great things about Was Dead was its near-relentless pacing, making it a breeze to listen to over and over again. King Tuff feels like the couch surfer friend you invite to your house party, the one who's often charming and fun but will not leave until every last drop of beer is gone.
For all his mishaps in attempting to broaden his style, the gambit Thomas takes on "Swamp of Love" is the one that pays off. A wistful piano ballad at its core, the song wildly benefits from Thomas' romantic croon and the climax that bookends it. It's actually kind of difficult to imagine this as the kind of song King Tuff had in him. Through all the hits and misses artists go through while expanding their songwriting breadth, surprises this satisfying are why artists step out of their comfort zone in the first place. Even though it's nowhere near as consistently great as Was Dead, it's nice to witness a songwriter like Kyle Thomas treading unfamiliar territory instead of delivering more of the same. It gives hope that his next great album won't sound like his last great album.
